Glee 1. Chapter 1

****Hello, you! Glad that you were intrigued enough to click on this story, despite the summary and warning :) Yes, I know it's kind of weird and kind of freakish, but hey so am I! Anyway, this is just a "scratching the surface" chapter, so it's mildly tame, as far as the kinky stuff goes…so bear with me, if you're here to get the dirty goods. Also, please be aware that this story deals with a masochist g!p Quinn and a sadist dom!Rachel…MEANING that there will be material that some will/might find offensive (including: intersex bashing, sexual humility, bondage, physical and emotional abuse, etc…but all parties involved have given their consent ;) Okay, so enough of that blabbering; on we go…**

**CHAPTER 1:**

Every time I study the torn skin, outlining still raw scratches along my bloodied shoulder blades, it gives me pleasure; a pleasure that dominates with such a vengeance that I am foolish to deny it. There is no strength left in my being to refuse this compulsion to serve the insatiable masochist that hungers for pain; the self-hating romantic that falls willingly for the dangerously unattainable. My body is designed to endlessly crave the sting of a cruel lover, one who drags me like a cadaver and savagely digs into my flesh, feasting on the poisoned organs that fail to function and work reason into my soul. I am a meal that is only appealing to the most ravenous of predatory hunters. I prefer a merciless love, or rather affair, where there is no limit to how much detestation is carved into my skin by another's hands. I prefer the feeling of a starved bite and angry slap than a velvet kiss and soothing caress. I prefer to whimper in defeat, instead of cry out in victory.

She knows this about me; she has identified my sickness and she forbids me a cure. She rather I suffer and beg her for a treatment; and when I do she denies me as I succumb to her unrelenting torture. She calls out to me, praising my valor, my strength, my endurance, only to break me down to a miserable creature that if looked at, it would appall with its dismal, pathetic appearance. I do as she says, as she orders, as she directs my body to do; if I disobey, if I should believe that I am free from her, she reminds me that I am nothing more than a lamb that she can easily slaughter, if I refuse to sacrifice myself to her supremacy. Sometimes I die for her quickly, sometimes I die slowly; no matter how I give up my ghost, she always disposes of me the same…with no bit of remorse or love.

Yet I love her so…more than is healthy, more than is just, more than is sane. She does not know this. This is something I find from her; this love I feel, is the only thing I do not throw to the wolf…to her. This love I bury so deep inside is unrecognizable; and if she were to ever come across it, she would mistaken it for another weakness in me, instead of the vigor that keeps me from dismantling completely in her hands, only so I can come back and fall to my knees before her, giving her unappeasable pride a sense of glory. For her, I will always endure the teasing: the manicured pressure clawing at my sensitive skin when I suck her hard nipples, the teeth that gnaw on my tender flesh when hovers above me and fingers herself, the cum-stained palm that strikes my face when I beg her to let me taste her, the hard tugging on my wrists when I try to break my bonds and thrust my disgusting penis into every beautiful hole that she flaunts in front of me. For her, I will always plead when she rubs her hands all over me, except for where I need them most. For her, I will always hate myself when she tells me how she will never touch the part of me that should never be loved, as she weaves her tongue into every curve, dip, and space on my tense-muscled frame, but evilly avoiding my always angrily throbbing penis. For her, I will always disallow myself healthy, just, and sane love…because there should be no mercy for someone like me; for a woman who knows no normalcy, for a woman who bears the genital-shaping of a male and has no ounce of self-love to accept her condition, her disfigurement.

I am as judgmental of myself as the doctors who have tried to force me to choose a gender, as if I was meant to have a choice. I feel as ugly as the marks she leaves on my body. I am as repulsed by my appendage as her unwillingness to touch it is. I am as destructive to myself as she is, carefully plotting against me, seeking to abuse any thoughts of hope and acceptance. I am as breathless as she wants me to be, but I comprise as much stamina that she needs me to have. I am as selfless as she selfishly demands of me; and I am as devoted to her as she is devoted to making me beg to be hers and only hers…

and I am hers, even if she is not mine. She is someone else's.

**LAST NIGHT:**

"I'm staying late," she says, as she stares at me. "No, Finn. Don't wait up; I have a feeling it's gonna take me all night to break down this _problem_," she drags her finger from my under my chin down to my collarbone. I look away, feeling the usual nerves, only to have her grab my face with her free hand, forcing me to meet her eyes; they are the color of burning wood, brown and black and fiery.

"It's not something I can just leave for someone else to do; I have to take this matter into my own hands," she grips the back of my neck and leans down until she is level with me, in my seated position. "I'm looking at it, right now, Finn…and I can already tell it's going to need my full attention."

I gulp and pull at the cuffs that have my arms pulled back behind the armless chair. I can feel my excitement when I realize that I'm completely immobile; it excites her, too. She digs her nails into the nape of my neck and grins when I try to keep quiet. "Look, I'll be home as soon as I'm done; bye, Finn."

She hangs up, drops her cell to the ground, and quickly straddles my lap. I instinctively thrust against her, earning me a slap on the face.

"Bad, Quinnie!" She points a scolding finger at me and smiles evilly. "Don't make me punish you, just yet; okay?"

"Oh ka-" I'm stopped by another slap on the opposite side.

"I didn't say that I wanted to hear you speak," she says, burrowing the nails deeper into my neck. I lean my head back, finding her sharp digs pleasurable. "Naughty, you should know how to expose your weak spots," she warns as she bites hard at the front of my extended throat. I yelp and try to bring my head forward, but she uses her other hand to hold it back. Her teeth break several layers of skin on my column, acting like saws slowly cutting through a tree trunk; then they scrape over lightly, enough to sting the reddened flesh.

I groan and thrust, unable to remain silent when she whips her tongue against my pulse point.

"No, thrusting! I don't want that _thing_ being pushed up against me!" She yells into my ear, while letting go of my neck and head, in order to effectively pinch my sides. I cry out when she kneads the tight skin lining my ribcage. "Aw does that hurt?" she mocks, as she buries her hard knuckles into my ribs. "Huh, answer me, Quinnie!"

I nod and blurt out a "yes!"

"Yes, what?" she asks, bruising my muscles.

"Yes, it hurts," I reply in a quiet whisper, because being loud will only contract my ribs, pressing them harder into her knuckles.

"I can't hear you, Quinnie. Say it loud; tell me to stop," she orders, tickling my ear with her words.

"Stop!" I yell; and with a final dig, she stops. I let my head drop forward, against her left shoulder.

"Uh oh, are you tired, already?"

I shake my head, not lifting it.

"Good, because we haven't even started, yet," she gets off my lap and stands behind me. I almost relax when she massages the stretched tendons in my shoulders, leading up to rubbing her fingertips on my scalp. I lean my head back, again; my eyes closed, unable to see the smirk on her face until she grips my hair in her fists and pulls, "Look at me!" I do as I'm told and I feel my stomach flip-flop when she stares at me with big smoldering brown eyes. She leans her own head down, until her lips are hovering over mine, "You want to kiss me?"

God, yes! but I shake my head, just to hurt her pride, like she'll hurt mine when she tells me how pitiful I am when she leaves me on the edge of an orgasm.

"No?" she asks, pulling back and raising an eyebrow. "I'll make you fucking beg me to kiss your pathetic pouting lips when I'm done with you," she says, smacking me on the mouth and pushing my head forward, again, so I can't see her. "Don't even think about turning around."

This only makes me want to look at her, even more; take in the sight of her beautiful body. She knows she can drive me crazy with just a little strip tease, so when she flings her long sleeved top on my clothed shoulder, I prepare myself for what's to come.

"You know you're in trouble, right?" I feel her whisper behind my ear, sending chills down my spine. I gasp when she wraps a bare leg around the back of my chair and waist. I instantly tug at the metal cuffs that are holding my hands back, needing to touch her smooth tan skin. Her giggle vibrates against my ear, "You want to touch me, don't you?"

I stop struggling with the cuffs, a sign that I'm not giving in to her, yet. She accepts my challenge and slips in front of me, standing over me, her underwear clad pussy inches above the bulge in my pants. I whimper when she lets me kiss her soft stomach; I missed the feel of her on my lips so much. It's been two days since she last broke me down to a quivering, begging mess; that's two days too long.

"Look at you, so damn desperate to please me," she comments, shoving my head away from her abdomen and locking eyes with me. "I bet you want to suck on my tits," she lowers herself on my hard-on, now face to face. I nod and let my eyes drift down toward her perfectly shaped breasts; her nipples erect and rubbing against the fabric of my button-up shirt. She pinches her own nipples to tease me; it works.

"Let me suck your nipples, please." I say, sounding a little more eager than I intended to, but I can blame that on my aroused state.

She hears the crack in my voice and lifts her brow. "No."

"Please, I'll suck them so good," I squeak out, as she rubs them between her thumbs and index fingers.

She laughs, "Oh yeah? Will you suck them the way you wish I'd suck that _thing_ between your legs?"

I duck my head, a little, embarrassed by the way she talks about my…_thing_… like that; like it's some alien creature. I don't blame her; even I feel disgusted imagining someone wanting to put their mouth on it...neither it, nor I, deserve that kind of pleasure.

She must be able to read my mind because she scoffs and rolls her eyes, "just open your fucking mouth, stupid."

I do so, before she even finishes her sentence and I moan around her breasts. She allows me to lick and suck on one, rubbing the tip against the roof of my mouth; before she pops it out sticks the other in. After five minutes I can't tell which one of us is moaning, but I know that my pants are way too tight around my bulge, right now; plus with her warm center rubbing against the front of my jeans, I can't keep from thrusting.

"What did I..tell…you about th-rusting, Quinn-ie?" Her speech is broken, interrupted by breathy sighs, but she has no problem with the fluidity of the trail that her nails carve into my lower back. I groan and arch into her, letting her nipple go.

She looks at her nails, there's red underneath them from the deep scratches she just gave me. "You got my nails dirty with your blood," she comments with a pout.

I feel the sting of her marks, as she smirks at me. She looks so sexy…A sex Goddess; she's so addictive it's not even fair.

"Please, let me taste you. You're so wet, I can smell it." I lean in as far as I can, pressing my flushed face against her bare chest. "Please, I need your taste on my tongue," my words are muffled and rushed, as I pull desperately on the damn cuffs, not caring how the metal chafes my wrists.

"No." She pushes me away and presses me into the back of the chair, examining how overheated I've become. The back of her hand drags across my forehead, wiping the thin layer of sweat off. "You're so hot," her tongue flicks over the perspiration on my collarbone, making me smile. "Do you want me to take your clothes off your sweaty body?"

Another nod from me and she begins to unbutton my shirt…slowly, on purpose. I impatiently thrust, groaning when I feel my covered erection aligns with her clothed wet pussy. She slaps my face and it stings so damn good that I thrust, again, making her hit the other cheek. An aroused moan emits from my mouth and she rips the rest of the buttons open in one swift motion. The cool air feels wonderful against my hot skin, but it doesn't last because a second after she tears my shirt off my stomach, she drags her nails down the center of my abs…hard.

"Oh, fuck!" I curse and lift myself off the chair as much as possible, in pain.

She laughs and her sexiness seeps through, causing my cock to twitch, "Oh, you look so good with my marks all over you," she teases. "Now every time you look at your body, you'll know who you fucking belong to, Quinnie."

I whimper when she gets herself off by gyrating on my lap and scratching frantically at my naked torso. Her scent fills the room; it smells so sweet and clean, making my mouth water. "Please, let me taste you!"

"Shut up!" She yells back, as she humps my bulge.

"Ple-" I beg.

"Say my fucking name!" Her voice almost sounds like a whine. I thrust, more, wanting to burst out of my goddamn pants. "I said say my fucking name, Quinn!" She smacks my face, not wanting to wait to hear it. "Say it, Quinn! Fucking say it!"

"Rachel!" I shout and tremble when she cums, soaking her panties and my jeans.

She rides out her orgasm on my lap, and when she's done she gets up, slips off her ruined panties and throws them on my face. "Taste that, Quinnie, because that's all you're gonna get."

I catch the wet fabric with my mouth and I suck on the crotch part, trying to get as much of her delicious juice onto my tongue.

"You're so dirty; so damn desperate to get your filthy mouth all over my pussy." She lifts her heeled foot between my legs, poking my cock with the tip of her shoe. I groan at the view of her dripping sex in front of me, I can see the light shine on her wet pussy lips and I nearly choke at how hard I'm sucking on her panties, trying to get as much of her taste in my mouth as I can. She pokes me a little harder, getting my attention and evilly smirking at me, "I should kick you in your balls for thrusting against me like that," I bite her panties when I feel the pointed shoe press forcibly into my scrotum. "Don't you think so?"

"No." I quickly answer, around the undergarment in my mouth. I may hate my unnatural genitalia and love feeling pain, but those two mixed? "No! Rachel, please don't!" I nearly scream, releasing her underwear, when she rubs ticklish circles against my crotch, with her foot.

She laughs at my squirming and my frightened face. "But you were being a bad Quinnie, so you have to be _punished_." She emphasizes the last word by lightly applying pressure to my full, sensitive, balls.

"No, no, no!" I tug, uselessly, at the cuffs. "Rachel, please!" I whine out, as she steps on my sack. My eyes water and I feel my face redden as I shake my head, side to side. I don't want to cry, but it hurts worse than her nails scarring my body. "Rachel," I whimper pathetically and look at her, defeat clear in my expression.

"Poor Quinnie," she mocks. "Do you want me to stop hurting your balls and suck them into my mouth, instead?"

"Please," I beg, not above whining.

"Too bad!" She yells, "I'll take my foot off your balls, only because I'm not in the mood to see you cry like a little bitch..." Rachel takes her shoe away from my horribly sore private. "But I'm not going to put my mouth anywhere near that thing, so don't even think about it."

I drop my head, letting my body sag against the chair. I hate this part… the part where she lets me go, with no desire to give me any kind of relief.

"In fact, I'll just let you go…" she un-cuffs me, "I'm tired of hearing you whine like a fucking baby. You're almost as bad as Finn."

This is different…She never compared me to her husband before, at least not to my face. I love her and I would never disrespect her, but those words just ignited an unfamiliar feeling in me. Is it hurt pride? Maybe, but this is much worse…I never felt this before, not around her. I have no control over my expressions, so when I furrow my brow and growl, she looks at me…one eyebrow raised.

"Fuck you," I snap at her. "Don't compare me to that asshole of a hus-"

Her hard slap cuts me off and a kick to my crotch brings me to my knees. Before I can get some wind back in my lungs, she grips the back of my head, fisting my hair and says…

"You wish you could fuck me…but you _never_ will. Not with that freak show, below your belt." She lets me go and I cup my balls and curl up on the floor. She rolls me over and presses on foot on my stomach; the heel burrowing into my belly. I whimper and wrap my hands around her ankle, trying to push her foot off. Instead, she loses balance and falls on top of me, kneeing my aching balls.

"Fuuucking shit!" I growl out, as she laughs at the pain I'm in.

"That's what you get for talking back to me. Who do you think you are? You're fucking nothing, Quinn…You're nothing fucking nothing. Get it?" She mocks me, "You fuck nothing, only your own hand because no one wants to touch a lady dick that belongs to a nothing, like you. I'm actually surprised that your hand hasn't fallen off from having to rub that thing; it's a fucking miracle."

I turn my head to the side, so she can't see how ashamed I am. Her words are like Hell…they're cruel and merciless, but they are given to those who deserve it…I deserve it; that much I know. "Now, get the hell out of my damn office." She gets up and looks down on me; a true metaphor for our roles.

I whimper, as she nudges me with her heel, until I slowly get to my feet. "Can I have a kiss?" I ask, knowing the routine, by now: I beg her for a kiss, before she finally lets me leave.

"No. You don't deserve one," she says matter-of-factly. This throws me off, she usually doesn't tell me no; she normally tells me to earn it or beg or to do something else, but never no.

I'm confused and unable to process much, at all, especially since I can't read the expression on her face. I take my chances and move toward her, until my lips are inches from hers. "Please…" I whisper.

"I said no!" The rejection is followed by a hard shove and I stumble back, almost falling on my ass. "Now, get the fuck out before I kick your balls so hard that you throw up…And I'll make you eat it!"

Okay, point made. I quickly hurry out, as she nearly slams the door on my ass. I wait outside for a few seconds, not hearing a single sound; finally I walk away, in utter disbelief at how hard my dick is…

Before I reach the elevator, I hear her door open, "And next time you better watch your mouth if you ever want to suck the cum off my panties!"

I turn to yell back and obedient "okay" but her door closes just as quickly as it opened.

As I exit the building, I type in the security code that I know by heart and wobble to my car. Once inside, I look up at Rachel's office and see her silhouette standing in front of the only lighted window. A ridiculous sense of importance flows over me; Rachel always does this. She looks at me through her window until I leave. I never asked her why; a part of me thinks that it's because she cares, but a more realistic part of knows that it's her way of proving that she has her eyes on me, that it's another way for her to assert her dominance. I shake my head at my wishful thinking and turn on the engine. Noticing the clock on my car radio, I realize that I've been here for four hours.

Four hours of pleasurable pain that leaves me aching and wanting more…And even though I'm beat and completely broken down and slightly pissed off still (from the Finn comparison), I know I will gladly come back to her…I will always come back to her, regardless if she's not mine.

**/END CHAPTER\**

****Yikes! I'm not sure if this is anyone's cup of tea…but let me know if this is a keeper?**


	2. Chapter 2

****First, I want to thank everyone who reviewed, telling me that you are interested in this story; it means a lot. Second, a special thank you goes out to sur1090 because you definitely pointed out the fact that sadomasochism isn't explored all that often in the Faberry world, so I'm glad you have faith in the potential of this story…actually all of you who reviewed made the freak in me smile, so really thank you for not making me feel like a weirdo lol. Anyway, to those of you who commented on Rachel's cruelty…this Quinn likes it; scratch that…she lives it, breathes it, loves it; so not only will this story explore their abnormal relationship, but it will explore Quinn's psyche and all that good stuff. Now, on we go…**

**RECAP:**

_As I exit the building, I type in the security code that I know by heart and wobble to my car. Once inside, I look up at Rachel's office and see her silhouette standing in front of the only lighted window. A ridiculous sense of importance flows over me; Rachel always does this. She looks at me through her window until I leave. I never asked her why; a part of me thinks that it's because she cares, but a more realistic part of knows that it's her way of proving that she has her eyes on me, that it's another way for her to assert her dominance. I shake my head at my wishful thinking and turn on the engine. Noticing the clock on my car radio, I realize that I've been here for four hours. _

_Four hours of pleasurable pain that leaves me aching and wanting more…And even though I'm beat and completely broken down and slightly pissed off still (from the Finn comparison), I know I will gladly come back to her…I will always come back to her, regardless if she's not mine. _

**CHAPTER 2:**

"I haven't really slept," I rub at my eyes, as if to prove my point. "When I do sleep, my dreams are short-lived…flickering scenes, like I'm viewing them from a shuttering camera…moments, memories broken up by black."

She nods and scribbles in her notebook for a few judgmental seconds. "Quinn, what do you dream of? You mentioned memories…what memories have replayed in your mind?"

I laugh at that…I really set myself up for this one. "I dream about her," I fix my stare on the woman's mouth; it purses and she hums, waiting for me to continue. "I can't even have her in my dreams; she's that good." I watch her bite her bottom lip, as she writes, always writing…never listening. "She's perfect, you know. I don't know what you're jotting down on that secret little notepad, but if it's anything bad then it just proves that you're not listening." I move my eyes up to meet hers. "When she bites her lip, like you just did…she does it hard, with purpose, not because she's unsure of what to think. I see you twist your face every time I talk, pulling at your lip in confusion; like you don't know what you're doing. She knows what she's doing…and it's perfect, just like her."

"Do you always do this?" She's clearly not amused. Her sets her notepad and pen on the side table and folds her hands on the tops of her thighs; legs crossed at the ankles. I study her legs; they're long, slender, definitely sexy…but I can almost hear Rachel telling me how her own legs can run circles around this other woman's. I close my eyes, remembering Rachel's legs wrapped around my waist, as she dry humps me, grinding on me, her thighs squeezing so tight I can barely thrust my hips.

"Quinn?"

I open my eyes to see the woman staring at me, worryingly; she's so full of sympathy for me…I hate it.

"Do you always do this? Compare other women to Rachel?"

I don't compare; I merely acknowledge the fact that there is no woman…no _being_…as beautiful, as powerful, as flawless as Rachel. In truth, no one else can even compare, so "No."

She sighs, sits back in her chair, and crosses her legs, so that they met at the knee. "You said last week that your roommate set you up on a date and when I asked you about it, you spent the whole session talking about how your date laughed with her mouth closed, how she caressed your knee, how she kept trying to link arms with you…and that Rachel would never laugh "half-ass" like that, that Rachel always put in one hundred percent. You said that Rachel would never be gentle and subtle if she wanted to touch you and-"

"Because she wouldn't!" I interrupt, "it was frustrating how delicate she was; every time I moved my leg or arm, she'd pull back…scared…Rachel would just grab me, if she wanted; she wouldn't care."

"And that's what you want…someone who doesn't care?" She eyes the freshly chaffed skin on my wrists; evidence that I have no desire to break my ties with Rachel.

"I want Rachel."

We stare at each other; I'm daring her to question me about what I want. She's the first to look away; her eyes drift to my throat, which is beautifully bruised by the bites Rachel pleasured me with. I like how the woman stares at the marks; she's unaware of how her left brow lifts, slightly intrigued…and annoyed. She's mad that I won't take her advice and stop seeing Rachel. She's mad that I only obey Rachel's word; well, if she doesn't know that by now, she really has no clue about me.

I smirk at her, causing her to quickly look away from my neck, as she determinedly looks to seek control, again. "Is Finn still in the picture?"

I snort, shaking my head; she would bring up that name, knowing what it does to me. "I don't need this," I get up from the ridiculously plush couch and grab my jacket, clumsily shoving my arms through the sleeves.

"Quinn, you know this is mandatory…If you leave, I'll have no choice but to inform the judge that you have failed to follow court order."

"FUCK! I'm not going to sit here and talk about that idiot!" I yell, grabbing the door knob with one tightly closed hand…the metal feeling cool against my sweaty, heated palm. Hearing that name always spreads anger through me like a raging wild fire.

"Fine," she says, slightly raising her hands up, "how about you don't talk and just listen."

"No! I don't need or want to hear whatever you have to say about him…" My chest rises and falls, rapidly; I'm sure I'm about to have a panic attack or explode from all the horrible emotions huffing and puffing inside me. "Just please…don't." I lean against the door, facing away from the trigger happy woman, who seems to know how to aim and shoot at all my emotional targets…with such precision.

"Okay," she speaks, letting the word hang in the air; until she sees my overblown frame deflate. "I'm not your enemy, Quinn. I have no intentions of plotting against you; I only wish to help you recognize that the choices you are making are unhealthy. You're self-destructive, Quinn. Let me help you."

I screw my eyes shut, still hiding my face from the woman. "You don't know anything about me, so don't act like you understand how to fix me. I don't need fixing."

"Quinn, you're in denial. This relationship you have with Rachel…it's not-"

"Don't even!" I cut-off, turning around to show her how fed up I am with her know-it-all attitude. "You don't get to sit there, in that stupid chair like it's a high horse, with your stupid little notepad and pass judgment on something you don't even have the heart or passion to comprehend! Everything you say is pre-recorded; nothing you say is real! It's all just lines you read from a poorly written script from a crappy psychologist role play book that you think applies to everyone's situation. Well, guess what? ! I'm not buying it! You don't care about the people who are forced to be here; you're forced to pretend to give a shit because you need to make money to pay off the student loans you needed in order to go to school and get a piece of paper that makes you believe that you can control someone's way of thinking and feeling. If anything, you're the one that needs to see a shrink! You're the one in denial; I mean, do you really think that this shit works? !" By the time I'm done with my rant, I'm inches away from her composed, emotionless face. Her eyes like dark coals, waiting to be sparked. My hands are gripping the arms of her leather chair, the tendons in my fingers, burning as they tighten with my tight hold. She sits, unmoved, impassive, completely withdrawn from this reality…as if her mind is in some alternate universe. I flex my jaw, pulling back my lips into a snarl, "Go ahead, Lopez…Tell the judge that I refuse to deal with you and your stoic bullshit…I'm done." I release the leather arms and step back, until I'm at the door, again, opening it with newly fanned rage.

"Nice to know you have a backbone," is all I hear, before I walk out, slamming the door shut as hard as possible.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"WHOA! WHOA! WHOA!" The two empty shot glasses are pulled away a split second too late, as the liquid burns, wonderfully, down my throat. "Quinn, slow down, damn!"

I take a swig of my beer and almost see the spit it back out when I see the look on my roommate's face.

"I really don't wanna have to drag your sloppy ass out of the bar after the crowd boos us off the stage, so that's enough drinking for tonight. Plus, you're not supposed to be drinking, you're on probation." He tries to grab my beer out of my hand, chugs as much as he can before spewing it into one of the four empty glasses I have in front me. "Fucking hell! If you're gonna risk getting thrown in the slammer, at least risk it for something that doesn't taste like piss!" He swipes the back of his hand across his wet chin and shakes his head at me.

"With the money I make…I'm lucky I can even drink piss water and still afford a place I can go to pass out. And fuck probation, they won't check up on me until a few days because I had a session today, so as long as they know I showed up, they won't be suspicious."

He sighs and looks at his watch, "Well, we're on in like ten minutes, so…" he looks at me with worried eyes, "just don't puke on stage, alright. I don't them to kick us out and then we'll lose the only place that actually thinks we're decent enough to pay us to play here."

I stupidly smile, suddenly every excited and happy about being able to play my guitar and sing passionately to this dark, dirty room packed with people who are half strangers and half regulars that I engaged drunkenly with, many a time before. This time it'll be even better because I'm not feeling a damn thing, not one bad vibe is turning me out; "Relaxxx, Puck I got thissss, now go find Joe and Lauren." I pat the side of his face, while getting off the highest bar stool, ever, and walking to the restroom to empty the tank.

By the time I'm done taking the longest piss of my life, I see my friends already on stage. Puck and Joe are tuning their guitars and Lauren is testing her cymbals. I stagger to the mic stand and grab the guitar that Puck hands me, as he leans in and whispers "Don't ruin this for us, Q."

I'm offended, but I'm too giddy to care at the moment. I turn to face Joe and Lauren, who are nervously smiling at me, attempting to appear too worried. I wink at them and turn back around to peer into the rowdy crowd; most people are fairly intoxicated, more so than I…but I'm a pro, granted I play in shitty bars, but I'm a pro at being drunk and still sounding like a rock star. "You assholes ready to hear some live music, or what? !" I hoarsely yell, working the disorderly audience into an even louder disorderly group. "Alright then, fuckers! Tonight, we're paying tribute to one of our favorite bands, The Black Keys, so you better sing the hell along if you know the words!"

I throw the guitar strap over my head and start the chords to 'Oceans and Streams;' my friends quickly join in and I smirk against the mic, singing:

"_**With guilt that no one should carry/ Heavy enough for me to get bur-ri-ri-ri-ri-ried/ I feel death on the road tonight/ It's got me to where I wanna run and hide/" **_I look to the side and wink at Puck, as he and Joe back me with the hook. "_**Oh, I used to dream…of oceans and streams/Flowing and growing strong/Where have all those days gone?" **_I see the relief on their faces when they're sure that I won't collapse off the stage in a drunken stupor. I turn back to look at the happy drunks in the crowd and I shake my head around to Lauren's drumming and start in on the second verse, _**"These days I'm so slow/All those thoughts and nowhere to go/My aim it used to be so true/My world had a place in it darlin', just for you. Oh, I used to dream…of oceans and streams/Flowing and growing strong/Where have all those days gone?" **_I whole-heartedly laugh when Joe breaks into full rock star mode, playing and swinging his dreads around like a flying tarantula. I back up next to Lauren, to allow him to cause a screaming riot, as he excites some slutty drunk girls in the front of the stage. I stay beside our drumming Queen, using her mic to finish the last section of the song, _**"Excuse me, now, I gotta go/Can't stand to be here anymore, no-ooo-ooo-ooo/I'm sick and I gotta go to bed/If I stay now, I'm better off dead/ Oh, I used to dream…of oceans and streams/Flowing and growing strong/Where have all those days gone?" **_

The crowd loudly stomps the dirty floorboards and pounds the sticky tables, cheering for us when we end the first song.

"Right on, you shitheads are not so bad yourself," Puck jokes with the crowd, as he smiles at me. Joe pats my shoulder and grins, making me feel like my band mates trust me, now. I return the grin and look towards Lauren to tell her that she's tearing these songs a new one, when I see her face fall, as she stares out into the packed bar floor. I follow her gaze to the front entrance and see a tall figure of a man and a much smaller figure beside him. My stomach instantly twists, when the two silhouettes move across the room to get drinks, their faces exposed under the dim lights hanging over the bar.

"This next song is called, Tigh-" Puck starts, but is quickly deadpanned.

"Howlin' for You!" I blurt out, not really knowing what I'm doing. I can feel my friends staring at me; Puck follows my gaze and mutters, a "fuck" into his mic. I make my way back to my original spot; she's watching me; she's been watching me since she heard me. I smirk and look away, satisfied that she knows my voice. "One, two, three," I count off, hoping they can remember the song, since we haven't really practiced this one all too much; luckily it's pretty much a repeated pattern, and Lauren's drumming is amazing enough to drown out any mistakes Joe, Puck, or I make, as we try to catch rhythm. I clear my throat and gulp when Rachel and her anchor of a husband weave through the crowd…coming closer to me. My nerves kick into overdrive and I start to sweat, as I miss my cue and my friends start repeat the opening. Puck shoots me a "what the fuck are you doing" look. I snap back to reality and pray I don't make a fool of myself:

"_**Alright, Yeah…Well now/ I must admit, I can't explain/Any of these thoughts racing through my brain; It's true…but baby, I'm howlin' for you." **_I risk a glance at Rachel; she's looking up at me and smirking that deliciously evil smirk; and all I can think is _**"Alright! There's something wrong with this plot/The actors here, have not got…a…clue." **_I glare at the idiot standing next to her, bobbing around like a Pilsbury Dough Boy bobble-head. I shake my own head in annoyance, and gaze back at the woman of my dreams and nightmares, _**"Baby, I'm howlin' for you…"**_ I let the guys take over the guitar playing, as I unhook my mic from the stand and walk across the stage, feeling a sudden urge to move around, excite the mass of drunken fools…well, actually, I just want to excite one person. _**"Da da, da da, da/Da d a, da da, da/Da da, da da, da/Da da, da da, da/ Da da, da da, da/Da d a, da da, da/Da da, da da, da/Da da, da da, da" **_I get as close to the edge of the stage, without fallen off and I kneel down, staring into Finn's oblivious eyes, _**"Mockingbird, can't you see?/ **__**Little girl's got a hold on me…like glue." **_I switch my focus to Rachel and smile, testing her, _**"Baby, I'm howlin' for you." **_She raises an eyebrow, intrigued; I'm about to say fuck it and jump off the damn stage when some drunk blonde girl shoves past Finn and bumps Rachel, in order to grab my shirt and scream "I love this song!" into my face, before kissing the hickeys on the front of my neck. The people around us, including Finn, hoot and holler at the girl-on-girl action happening as I attempt to sing out the next part, as the random girl's tongue brushes over my skin. Rachel looks beyond pissed; and of course it turns me on._** "Throw the ball to the stick/A swing and miss, in the catcher's mitt/Strike two…" **_My head is pulled down, as the drunken girl sings along with me, as we stare each other in the face, "_**Baby, I'm howlin' for you!" **_For a second I smile, laughing, enjoying the impromptu rock choir, as the whole bar chants, the last of the "Da da, da's!" The random girl finally let's me go, allowing me to get back to my feet. I notice Finn fist pumping and everyone else, except my band mates, thoroughly pleased, while Rachel is standing completely still, watching me with a burrowing stare. When we bang out the final beat, the audience roars and Joe shakes my shoulders in excitement, pointing and laughing at the lipstick stains the drunk blonde left on me. I hear Lauren say we're taking a brief intermission, as she and Puck drag Joe and I off to the back room. "What the hell? ! We can't take a break! We're killing it out there!" Joe protests, when we're all in the band area.

"Quinn, what were you thinking?" Puck yells, as I search the room for something to drink.

"Hey, man, who cares if she changed up the playlist; Howlin' for You worked out great; the crowed ate it up!" Joe defends me…It's obvious he didn't see Rachel, like Puck and Lauren did.

"Joe, you idiot…That bitch Rachel was in the audience. That's why Quinn decided to switch up the playlist."

"What? ! Where? ! I didn't see her!"

"It doesn't matter!" I exclaim, before twisting of the cap of a beer and chugging it before Puck grabs it out of my hand. "So what if she's here; I'm not doing anything wrong…neither is she; so get your fucking panties out of your asses and let's finish the show." I say, reclaiming the bottle from Puck and finishing it off.

"Finn is out there, Quinn! You can't be singing songs to her like that!" My roommate yells, his Mohawk head steaming with rage.

"Fuck Finn! He's an asshole…and he's stupid! He doesn't even know who I am," I explain shaking my head at Puck's dramatics.

"It's wrong, Q." Lauren refutes. "It's bad enough she treats you like sh-"

"No, fuck this! I hear enough of this shit from that fake psycho doctor. I came out tonight to drink and play some fucking music, so if we're not going back on stage then I'm out of here."

"Goddamn it, Quinn!" Puck yells, as I run back on stage and address the crowd.

"We're back!" I search the cheering crowd and spot Rachel and Finn at a well lit table that's close by. They stick out like sore thumbs…well Finn does at least. He's wearing a freaking suit, for one, and, two, he just looks like a giant tree next to that beautiful tiny woman, who is staring back at me, while her husband chats with some other guy in a suit. Rachel straightens up in her chair when I grab my guitar and when the rest of the band returns to their instruments, as well. "This one is called, Work Me," I say, catching the blonde, who is front and center, as she looks up at me…her eyes full of lust. I try to shake off urge to compare her to Rachel…I look back to the far more attractive woman. God, Ms. Lopez was right; I can't even look at another woman without thinking about the one who has captivated me so. In fact, I'm so captivated by these thoughts, I barely realize I'll miss my cue if I don't look away from her.

"_**Baby, work me…Till I won't look on/Baby, work me…Till I won't no more." **_My voice comes out strangled…like she stare is choking me. Thank God, this song has plenty of instrumental between verses. I notice Puck is also staring at Rachel, but with the same expression of love…with hate; though Rachel is completely oblivious to my roommate's death glare because she is focused on me, as I look down at my fingers playing at my guitar's strings…and this blonde girl's heart strings. _**"Want you to work me, baby/ Lord how, make me feel it." **_The girl props her elbows up on the stage and leans the side of her face against her two hands, whose fingers are intertwined in one another's. Damn, if she was a few years younger, and this was the 90's, you would think I was a freaking Nsync member or a Backstreet boy. I humor her, though…might as well get a reaction out of Rachel, if I have to suffer through the eye sex that this girl is engaging me in; I kneel back down and sing to the slightly more sober blonde. _**"Want you to do me/Baby, I will do you, too/If you do me, ahh/ Baby, I will do you, too." **_She squeals and I let her rub her hands over my shirt and her mouth over my neck, again. _**"Want you to work me, baby/Lord how it makes me feel." **_We play out the rest of the song; I'm pretty sure if I wanted, I could go home with this girl…She's literally swooning as I work my fingers over the guitar. I faux wink at her and look up to see what Rachel is doing…She's gone; I guess my act worked a little too well. It's odd though; Finn is still sitting at the table with his business pal, so Rachel couldn't have left the bar. Once the song is over, I tell the crowd that Puck will be taking over the singing for the remainder of the set. I quickly leave the stage, only for the blonde to follow. Before I can head to the back room, she presses me up against the side of the stage and starts kissing me; and I know I'm on the verge of sloppy drunk and I'm highly distracted by a desperate need to find Rachel, but…this girl actually kisses pretty well. I mean, Rachel's lips are much softer and that thing she does with her tongue is - Oh shit! The girl stops kissing me and I stop breathing because I know she can feel it poking her hip. There's no movement, sound, anything between us for a few seconds, until she starts chuckling and kissing my ear. "I'm impressed; most guys can't even get it up when they're as drunk as you are…let alone get it _this_ big and har-"

"Fuck off, slut!" yells someone, I can't see because my eyes closed when she gripped my semi-erect cock. I do, however, recognize the voice; how can I not? I open my eyes in time to see Rachel shove the blonde away, "She's spoken for!" The blonde mutters a "fuck you" or something along those lines, as she walks away, not before winking at me and mouths to me "next time" when Rachel isn't looking. I see her glancing over at Finn, who is so drawn into whatever conversation he and his friend are having, that he's blind to the scene.

I look back to Rachel, finally able to see her entire body; she looks amazing. She's dressed in a low-cut black blouse, and a sinfully short black skirt and the sexiest heels I've ever seen; but the most attractive part of her is her face. She's so gorgeous, adorable, sometimes I can't believe such a sweet-looking girl can be so…so…Rachel. She catches me staring at her, "You look beau-"

"Shut up, Quinn." She then pulls me into the back room and shoves me down on the beat-up couch and straddles me, leaving several inches between our crotches. "Were you going to fuck that slutty bimbo, Quinn? Is this what you do when I'm not owning you? You sing sexy songs to stupid women and get them to come back here and ride that _thing _of yours? Huh; is this what you do when I leave you all hot and bothered? You get some slut to fuck?" Her voice is so stern and angry…I tremble beneath her, as if her sound waves are rolling through my body, crashing against my groin. "Answer me, Quinn!"

I shake my head and look down at the bulge in the front of my jeans. She lifts my chin up and stares into my eyes, searching for secrets that I keep from her.

"You think she's prettier than me? Sexier? Hot-"

"No!" I squeak out, sounding like a boy going through puberty. "Rachel, you're so beautiful and sexy and perfect; you don't even know how much I-"

"love to kiss my ass?" she interrupts and smirks at me, one eyebrow raised. "You're such an ass kisser, Quinnie…that's how I know you're a liar. You were going to fuck that girl, weren't you? !"

"No," I whimper weakly, as she rubs, dryly, at my throat.

"That bitch left her disgusting lipstick on you. No one can see the bites I left on your neck…No one can see that _you _belong to _me._" She quickly latches onto my neck and sucks hard, so hard that she's forced to lower her warm, squishy panty-clad pussy onto my aching, pre-cum dripping jean covered dick. She grinds against it and she moans on the ticklish spot on my neck; I squirm causing more friction and more tingling sensations all over my body. "Say it, Quinnie; say it…Say that you belong to me, or I'll make you say it."

Well, how does she except me to say it after that threat…"Go ahead and make me, Rachel."

She quickly pulls away from my neck and studies me, eyes narrowed and challenging…"Better yet, I'll prove it."

**/END CHAPTER\**

****This was a little different from the first chapter…I wanted to give you all more of an idea of who Quinn is and how other people view her and her "issues" before I add more physical stuff. Anyway, I'm interested in what you readers think about it all, so far. Any questions will be answered before next chapter, so ask away, if you'd like. Thanks for stopping by! **

**P.S. Check out the songs I used: "Oceans and streams," "Howlin' for You," and "Work Me." The Black Keys are such an amazing band…I hope listening to the tracks will give you a better feel for Rachel and Quinn's relationship.**


	3. Chapter 3

****Hello, Lovelies! Thank you for the reviews and alerts; they make me smile :D I'm actually really enjoying writing this story; the themes in it have always been very fascinating and personal, to me…So, again, thank you for showing support on this one. On we go…**

**RECAP:**

_I whimper weakly, as she rubs, dryly, at my throat. _

"_That bitch left her disgusting lipstick on you. No one can see the bites I left on your neck…No one can see that you belong to me." She quickly latches onto my neck and sucks hard, so hard that she's forced to lower her warm, squishy panty-clad pussy onto my aching, pre-cum dripping jean covered dick. She grinds against it and she moans on the ticklish spot on my neck; I squirm causing more friction and more tingling sensations all over my body. "Say it, Quinnie; say it…Say that you belong to me, or I'll make you say it."_

_Well, how does she except me to say it after that threat…"Go ahead and make me, Rachel." _

_She quickly pulls away from my neck and studies me, eyes narrowed and challenging…"Better yet, I'll prove it." _

**CHAPTER 3:**

I'm awake, but my eyes are closed. My stomach aches, my throat is hoarse, my head is heavy, and the rest of what I can feel is sore. I can see that what lies on the other side of my shut eyelids, is dark, grim, haunting; I know I am home. I faintly remember being dragged out of the bar and shoved into her car and drunkenly giving her directions to my apartment.

"Quinn!" The angry voice and impatient knocking hurts my ears. "Quinn! Get your ass up! You're gonna be late for work!"

I try and turn over onto my stomach, so I can bury my head under my pillow, but I can't…I'm immobile; incapable of shifting more than a few inches on my side. I open my eyes, as the smile crosses my face. I tug at the restraints around my wrists and ankles and wince when the belts rub against the chaffed skin.

"Quinn! I'm serious!" My roommate yells through the paper thin bedroom door. I groan and look around, as if she might reappear from the unlit corners of my room and save me the embarrassment of asking Puck to untie me…Nope, it's just me and my soon to be crushed pride. I look down at my exposed body; well, at least I have my boxers on.

"Qu-"

"Puck, open the door! I need your help…" I hear nothing, but silence and the sound of a hesitant hand tightening around the outside door knob. "My dick is covered! Can't say the same for my boobs!" The door flies open and Puck smirks at the blush of embarrassment that tints my face and travels down my chest. "Stop staring, perv!"

"Oh, I'm the perv? ! You're the one who's tied up, not me!" He laughs, but quickly stops when his eyes roam over my bare torso. "What the fuck, Q…" he whispers in a low, concerned voice. The voice that is full of "shame on you" "you shouldn't let her do this" "why do you like this shit" "why don't you have no self-respect" "you deserve better" and all the other cliché phrases they've all told me before.

"Just untie me." He doesn't acknowledge my request; his eyes just travel over my midsection, with a scrutinizing and disgusted expression on his judgmental face. "C'mon, already!" I shake my secured arms around, reminding him that I'm still tied spread-eagle on my bed. "I'm not one of those dead animals you have to pick-up at work, so untie me or we'll both be late. You don't want all the roadkill to run away on you, now do you?"

"Fuck you, Q." He mutters, as he not so accidently tightens the belts, before loosening them.

"Ow, you asshole!"

"I thought you liked it rough," he scoffs, eyeing the scratches, new and old, that decorate my abdomen. "Seriously, Q…This can't be healthy. I mean, doesn't that bitch-"

"She's not a bitch!" I kick my leg out, as soon as he unties the last one.

"Oh yeah, that's right…_You're_ the bitch in the relationship; not her." He nearly dodges the other foot that I kick out at him. "I'm just telling it like it is. I mean, look at that shit," he points to fresh welt that's shaped like an "R." "She fucking carved her initial into your stomach! I'm surprised there's no leash around your neck!"

"Get the hell out of my room, Puckerman!"

"_Gladly! _It smells like dirty sex, sweat, and pathetic ass, in here!" With that he slams my door shut, and we're both shocked that it didn't fall off the hinges.

"Fucking dick!" I yell, as I slam my drawers shut, stupidly looking for my fresh clothes under clothes, so I can take a shower.

"_Non_-fucking dick!" He shouts back, before I hear him slam the apartment door. I swear; the day that one of these doors break, his ass is paying it get it fixed.

I'm alone, now; and it's only then when I trace over the "R" that I wear like a badge of honor. At first, the light touch stings, but after a few strokes it kind of tickles. I smile, remembering how she kissed and sucked on my neck to ease some of the long-lasting pain, as she scratched through layers and layers of skin. I remember how she peppered kisses on it when it was still bleeding; it was different, she was gentle, soft, caring, but I wasn't turned off. Then again, Rachel has never been that way with me…maybe I imagined it; I mean, I was pretty drunk, so the soothing part might have been all in my head. It's best to not dwell on it; but I stare down at the letter on my stomach and I know I will spend the rest of the day with last night's events dominating my thoughts.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The thing about my job is…well, I love it. People would laugh in my face if I said that out loud, but I wouldn't blame them. My line of work isn't necessarily the most desirable and it definitely doesn't give me the kind of money I wish it did, but I can't be too picky; not many employers are willing to hire someone with a record. After nearly a year of being unemployed this gardening/handy(wo)man gig was a blessing; and when I proved that I'm capable of being a great worker they gave me my own truck and I now I get to take the more complicated and lengthier projects, which means more perks. If I end up staying at a house for the majority of a day, most people feel guilty enough to feed me; and being a broke, starving musician/gardener/handy(wo)man, I don't turn down a free meal, especially when I only get a third of the money that I earn doing these projects. I guess the fact that I get a workout whenever I'm on the job is also a plus. The daunting tasks always distract me from whatever issues are bothering me, like Rachel, court dates, therapy appointments, Rachel, past due rent, unpaid bills, Rachel, finding band gigs, dealing with my judgmental friends…and Rachel. Don't get me wrong; I love playing with the band, but some songs always drag me back inside that hole, where my want turns into need and my need turns into an endless yearning that will never go away.

I sometimes wonder what Rachel would think of my job or my criminal record or the fact that I'm forced to go to therapy. We don't discuss those things; our relationship is strictly physical, not emotional…at least, for her it is. Before yesterday, she didn't know anything about me, other than the fact that I'm some girl she bumped into in a bookstore and decided to make-out with after we stared at each other for ten minutes, while we both reached for the same book about sadomasochism. We went into the bookstore bathroom not knowing if our roles were compatible; if she was the sadist I wanted and if I was the masochist that she needed. When she shoved me _hard _against the hand dryer, the bulky metal crashing against my back, and bit down on my neck as I threw my head back releasing a growl…It was clear that we were meant to find each other. That was six months, three weeks, and five days ago; and I've never felt a touch so perfectly pleasurable and so painful; her hands, her mouth, her entire body is a licking flame that burns and soothes me, all at once…I know I will never meet someone else like her; and she will never meet someone else like me. If she gave me the chance I would love her so well. I mean more than just physically; she knows I can make her orgasm in less than three minutes of fingering or eating her out, but I can be so much more. I know I can be better than that douche bag that she's with. I mean, I don't know a lot about the guy, but from what I gathered. She's married to him, yet I get the feeling that she doesn't feel loved or appreciated; or maybe she doesn't love or appreciate the guy. And I know an affair doesn't automatically mean that she's not sexually satisfied in her marriage, but maybe I'm just better at making her orgasm…that's what I like to think, anyway. I've never used my dick, with her; ever since she first felt it…it scared her or traumatized her or something…I don't know. I just know not to expect to get any relief when we get together; and I know for a fact that it turns her on. So whatever is going on or not going on between her and her husband…it's obviously not enough; but I can be enough. I can be better; I mean other than a suit, what does this guy have that I don't?

I'm so consumed in my thoughts and flashbacks, I barely realize that I've rang the doorbell to the beautiful two-story house and currently have my back turned away from the front door, looking at the neighboring homes, while I wait for the owner to let me in.

"Hey, how's it going?"

I turn around to greet the man who answered the door, and when I make eye contact with him, every nerve in my body explodes. I take a step back and look around the front of the home, searching for something that seems out of place, unrealistic, anything that will prove that this is some horrible nightmare, where I'll be working on a week-long project at the house of the man whose wife I'm having an affair with. At the house where the man who I despise lives, sleeps, and fucks the woman who I am having an affair with. At the house where the man I hate is actually allowed to touch the woman, I'm having an affair, with his penis. At the house where the man is allowed to have conversations with, share things with, build things with, and dream with…with the woman I'm having an affair with. I feel heaviness in my chest, a burning in my veins, and a dismantling of my heart. I look up at the classic, All-American home and I can't help but wince when I compare it to my shithole of an apartment. A sudden embarrassment washes over me at the realization that Rachel was in my _shithole of an apartment _last night; and then came home to _this. _I turn and look at my beat up work truck, which is my only form of transportation, parked next to the newly released 2012 BMW. I glance back at the tall man before me, he's in a business suit and I'm in a navy blue, worn-in jumpsuit. This house, that car…Finn…it's everything that I'm not and don't have. This is all from a completely different world from mine. I am just a piece of dirt that got swept up by a manic tornado and somehow landed in a whole new dimension.

"So, you're like the handyman, right?" He looks at me, a little skeptical, "I didn't know chicks could do this kind of stuff, but that's cool." He smiles and gestures for me to enter the house.

"I uh," I clear my throat and nervously rub at my throat. "I actually can't-"

"Oh hold on! I know you! I know who you are!" His face is unreadable, but his voice is booming. A low tone that immediately throws me into defense-mode; he knows who I am. He knows that I've been having an affair with his wife. He reaches out to me, and I brace myself for the crushing blow…

"You're that chick that was with the band at that bar last night!" He wraps me up in a suffocating, one-armed, hug. "You were freakin' awesome, dude! This is so rock n roll!"

I release a long and shaky sigh of relief, once I realize that he's not choking me to death or punching me into his lush, perfectly cut, green front lawn.

"Rae!" He yells into the house, as he drags me into the doorway. "Rach!" He pats my back and lets me go, "Rachel! You gotta come see who's here!"

My stomach drops, and I instantly place my hand over my midsection. Oh please, God, please let me wake up, right now. Please, let this be a bad dream, a joke, a warning that if I don't change my ways, _this_ is what I'll have to endure for the rest of my eternity in Hell. Please, just save me from…

"Who's here, Finn?" I hear her voice come from the top of the long staircase. My breath hitches in my throat and I try not to faint when Finn excitedly nudges my shoulder.

"Guess!"

I hear her sigh, and it's not sexy…it doesn't have the same effect on me that the breathy sighs she releases when I kiss her soft lips, or lick her nipples, or nibble her thighs, or suck on her clit. It is a different kind of sigh, a frustrated, annoyed, tired sigh…not an "Oh my, God, Quinn! I'm gonna cum!" sigh. "I don't have time for games, Fffff-"

She's only half way down the staircase when she sees me, standing next to her husband, who is oblivious to the fact that he just invited his wife's secret lover into his home. I take a quick jerky step toward her when she misses a stair; she grips the railing and recovers quickly. Her eyes brush over me and I take a wobbly step back to my place…next to Finn, her fancy, rich husband…One look from her and I'm put back in my place, resembling a bum when compared to him.

"Wha – Who – Why is she here?" Rachel finally asks.

"She's going to work on our backyard, but hey, she's the chick from the band we saw last night!" He beams, proudly, as if he just told her the answers to the universe. "At the bar!" He adds, when Rachel just stares past him blankly, as she examines me with her dangerous brown eyes.

"I don't recall…" Her message is loud and clear: Don't say a fucking word!

"Yeah, well she was pretty awesome," he says in a deflated tone. "And it's too bad you had to go back to the office, Rach, because the guy with the Mohawk was pretty awesome, too." He moves to the side, so he can look at both of us, "Hey," he pats my shoulder, "why'd you leave the show, anyway?"

I panic and look at Rachel, out of instinct and immediately regret it when she glares at me. "I uh, wasn't feeling well?" I internally curse at myself for sounding so unsure of my answer.

Finn looks at me and makes a weird constipated face, "Oh, is that code for you went to the VIP area and did the dirty with that blonde chick that was all over you?" He chuckles and nudges my stomach with his elbow. I wince when he makes contact with the sensitive "R" that his wife slowly and possessively scratched into my skin. "She give you those hickies?" He points to the new bite marks that _his_ wife left when she sucked on my neck and smiled when she nipped at my sensitive spot.

"Yeah…That's what happened." I shift nervously from foot to foot.

"Right on!" He slaps my back, it hurts but it doesn't feel good like when his wife does it.

"Quit smacking her, Finn!" Rachel nearly yells, but quickly covers any signs of rage with a fake, playful "you don't want to break her," but Finn is too dense to catch on.

"Alright," he chuckles. "Well, I'm gonna head out. Gotta important meeting to be at. See you later, Rae. And I'll see you tomorrow…Uh…what's your name?"

"Fabray!" I blurt out, not wanting to give him my first name because three weeks ago, while I was eating out his wife, she told me that she breathed out my name when she last let him touch her. She was probably lying, but I don't want to take any chances…not when she's giving me a death glare.

"Weird name, but alright; I'll see you tomorrow, Fabray. You'll probably be gone by the time I get back; Rae will tell you about all the yard work stuff." He waves a goodbye to me and meets Rachel at the middle stair. He aims for her mouth, but she turns her head and gives him her cheek. I see his face scrunch up, as he retreats back down the stairs and heads toward the front door. I almost feel guilty…Maybe I was wrong about Finn; he seems like a cool guy…stupid, but cool.

"Finn, don't forget what tonight is." Rachel says to him, before he can open the door.

"Uh…Yeah...Of course." He turns and gives her a confused lopsided smile.

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, "It's important."

"Yeah…I know," he says, scratching his head. It's obvious he has no idea what she's talking about. "You'll meet us there, then?" She eyes him, testing to see how long he'll act like he knows what she's talking about.

"Yeah…totally. Anyway, I'm late, so have fun with my wife, Fabray; she's really something!" He smacks my back and gives me a "yikes" face and winks, just before hurrying out the door. _Oh, he has no idea._

It's quiet, until we hear his car start and pull out into the street, before driving off with a loud roar of his engine.

"Un-fucking-believable," she expresses through a winded breath.

"I can leave. I mean, I should go. I can get my boss to give you another gardener or something."

"No." She moves down the rest of the staircase like a medieval Queen, about to order me, the village peasant, a thousand lifetimes of suffering, at the hands of her merciless tortures. "I called the company because it had the best reviews, and customer satisfaction. Your boss said he would send his best worker…I didn't know you did this for a living; I can't say I'm surprised; it _is _a job for someone like you." What is that supposed to mean? Before I can say anything, her bare feet touch the carpeted floor, and we're now, technically, level…but even though she is several inches shorter than me, it's as if she is on some invisible pedestal…a pedestal that I crafted with my own hands. She closes the gap between us and I nervously step back. I'm panicking; I'm used to not having any advantage, but being in a new place…her home…his home…_their _home…it raises all my internal red flags.

"I – I…" I can't formulate much after that; once her velvet lips touch my locked jaw, I am doomed. She is a snake; a devious, sensuous, erotic, wicked, sinful serpent, that wraps around me, tempting me with its silky tongue tickling my ear. She whispers seductive sonnets, perfected prose, and charming couplets, until she forms a victorious verse that renders me speechless and then she bites. Her venom is a serum that brings me to my knees; and I am forever crippled.

"It's ironic how I can bring you down, so easily," she runs her fingers through my hair, as I kneel before her, "yet, I can bring you up, just as quickly…at the same time." She lifts her naked foot off the soft ground and runs it along the protruding crotch of my jumpsuit. "You like it?"

My seizure-like hip jerks roll through my body and I nod, feeling her nails dig into my scalp with each up and down movement of my head. A soft whimper escapes my lips when her toes rub against my balls, almost tickling them. I yelp when she wiggles them faster and she laughs, her sexy giggle drifting into a low hum. "Follow me," she orders, as she lets go of my hair and pulls her foot away from my tightly confined cock.

From my position, I can see under her skirt, as she walks up the staircase, swaying her hips very purposely. Her perfectly round ass is barely covered by the lace underwear; I can already feel my mouth enjoying the texture of it in my mouth. She turns around halfway up to see if I'm following, and I quickly start to get up from my knees.

"No, Quinnie…On your hands and knees…like a good doggy."

I look at her eyes and see the seriousness in them; I feel a blush come over me. I've never had to crawl before…to be honest, I've done much more degrading things, but for some reason, following her on my hands and knees is making me feel shy…more shy than usual. Rachel must sense this, because she comes back down and stands in front of me, again; only this time she kneels to meet me on the ground.

"Be a good Quinnie and follow me or I'll put a leash on you and I'll just pull you along." She scratches lightly behind my ear and I lean my head against her hand, trembling from the ticklish feeling her fingers are causing. For a brief second I see a smile curve her lips, before she stands up and walks up the steps, once more…This time I follow. By the time I reach the top of the stairs, she's already out of sight. I look down both ends of the second floor hallway and notice several rooms are open; and I was too busy watching my knees while climbing, so I missed what direction she went in. I wait a few seconds in silence, listening for sounds that will lead me to her. I don't hear anything, so I decide to head down the shorter end of the hall; there are only two rooms on this side, and one is a bathroom. I'm about to nudge the other door, that's ajar, with my head to peer inside when I hear…

"Quinnnnnnie; where are youuuu?" I hate that I instantly perk up to her sing-songy voice; it's like I really am a dog that's listening for its master's next command. "Come to Mama Rachel, baby." She adds a melodious whistle to the end of her sentence and I look down the opposite end of the hall, where my master calls to me. "Quinnie, don't be a bad doggy. I don't like to be kept waiting." The strict tone wisps over her playful doggy talk and it helps me get my knees and hands moving, again. "I don't hear you…Bark for me, Quinnie." I stop at the first door and look inside; it's a guest room. There are three other bedrooms on this side. "Quinnie, bark for me or I'll put you outside!" I cower a little at the crack of her voice; if I had a tail, it'd be between my legs.

I gather some courage and try to make an intimidating bark; instead it sounds more like a "rawf!" I instantly shake my head at how stupid I sound…and look, for that matter. Rachel's instantaneous laughter doesn't keep the embarrassment from washing over my face.

"That wasn't a bark!" Her giggle trails out into the hallway and I can tell what room she's in, now; but I make no move to get there…I'm ashamed. "You sound like a puppy!" I furrow my brow at that and start to feel challenged.

"RAWF!" I try again, but end up just sounding more audibly stupid. I stomp one of my hands on the carpet when she laughs, again.

"Oh my God!" She's probably doubled over, laughing her ass off, at how dismal I sound. "Aww, come here, Quinnie. I want to see you." I can hear the giant smile in her voice and it almost warms me and makes me less humiliated. I continue to crawl down the hall, until I reach the room I know she's in. I stop just short of the doorway, and I wait…not sure of what is waiting for me inside. "Don't be scared; I won't hurt you…_too much._"

My back arches at the huskiness that's caressing her words. I inch forward and stick my head in to look around. She's standing by a huge king-sized bed, in just a small lingerie baby doll dress. "There's _my_ Quinnie; come here, baby." She hunches over until one of her hands is resting on a thigh; the other hand is luring me in, with a beckoning finger. I slowly crawl in and she stares at me, seductively, and pats the tops of her thighs, "Come on, Quinnie…I'm waiting." Her voice is so soft, as she coaxes me to her. When I'm inches from her, she reaches down and rubs my back, scratching the fabric of my work jumpsuit. Her nails drag from my lower back all the way up to the middle of my shoulder blades. My spine bends, causing me to lower myself to the ground, under her touch. When she's teased me enough to have me wiggling on the floor, she sticks her foot under my left shoulder and lifts it, rolling me over on my back. I look up at her and try to keep eye-contact, but my eyes stray lower to the sight of her exposed pussy, as she stands over me. My cock twitches and I blush when she clears her throat to get my attention, again.

"You're not being a good puppy, Quinnie. Maybe you don't deserve the treat I was going to give you."

"I'll be good!"

"No, you only get to bark," she presses her foot onto my chest, trying to intimidate me, but it just arouses me because her lifted leg gives me a better view of her wet center. "Got it?" She emphasizes her question with a slightly harder pressure to my chest. I nod. "Say it."

I gulp when she smirks, waiting to hear the pathetic "bark" that sends her into laughter. I tense up and let my throat harbor a cough, trying to roughen up my voice, before releasing a much stronger, more frustrated growl-like sound.

I'm actually quite proud of it, until I see her arch an eyebrow. "Are you growling at me, Quinnie?" My eyes widen and I shake my head from side to side. "You just growled at me…_Bad, bad_ puppy." She lowers herself, facing my feet, until her knees are on either side of my head, her glistening pussy hovering over my face. She unzips my jumpsuit and lifts the wife-beater underneath. "Now, you have to earn your treat." With that, she starts riding my face. I instantly inhale her scent and kiss her sweet lips. I moan loudly into her parted thighs and I stick my tongue into her, feeling her hard little clit rub against my chin, as she leans forward and presses her open palms on my pale stomach, adorned with her markings. The weight on my soft belly causes pain, so I widen my mouth and groan against her. My bottom teeth brush over her clit and she arches her back, her walls squeezing my tongue, as she tries to find my teeth, again. Her hands are now claws and she scratches at my stomach.

Rachel repeats "Ohhh fuck!" like a mantra, while I grab her waist and pull her back, until her clit is closer to my mouth; and as soon as I feel it with my tongue, I suck the sensitive button between my lips and flick the tip of my tongue all over it, teasing it.

"Don't!" She digs her claws into my ribs and I suck harder, as I hiss in pain. "Don't you dare fucking tease me, Qui – Oh my fuck! Oh God!" She rides my face harder when I tickle her trapped clit with my tongue, and stick two fingers into her tight pussy. I love the view I get, when she humps my mouth, her beautiful ass is grinding up and down on the bridge of my nose and I control the rhythm her body falls into…until she orgasms. I hear the wetness squishing against my face, I can see it, I can feel it, and I can taste it. She's almost there. I let my teeth graze her clit and she screams; she arches and throws her head back until the ends of her hair tickle my forehead. Her sweet taste pours into my mouth as she cums, again. I suckle on her clit and I don't pull my fingers out until she lays her body over mine…her head dangerously close to my throbbing erection that is still confined in my jumpsuit and boxer briefs. I rest my hands on the backs of her thighs and I rub them, kissing them softly, while she recovers. One of her hands is splayed out on my stomach and I can feel her fingers spasm with her body every time my lips touch her legs. I can feel the stickiness on my chin, when her body jolts and her pussy bumps against it. I look down and see her ass, so inviting…I whimper when her twitchy fingers trace over the semi-healed "R" on my stomach. My muscles tremble under her gentle touch and instead of expecting to be annoyed by it or turned off, my dick gets harder. I turn my head and smile against one of her inner thighs when the tracing starts to tickle.

I feel her lift her head off my belly, "ticklish?" She doesn't let up; instead she expands her focus and lightly brushes her fingertips across my ribs. "I think my Quinnie is ticklish." She mocks when my foot twitches, nervously. I don't like this…It's worse than scratches and bites; hell, it's worse than getting bitchslapped. She continues scribbling her fingers all over my torso and I squirm like a sad, dying worm. Fuck, I just want my damn treat!

"No!"I push her hand off and glare at her. She glares back, but she's much better at it.

She pounds her hand on my ribcage, in anger. "Your body is mine, Quinnie! Don't forget that!" She stands up, on wobbly legs and looks at my covered erection. "I _was_ going to give that _thing_ of yours a little foot rub, but since you're acting like a baby, you can just go!"

"What?" I gasp out, suddenly feeling like she just punched me in the chest. She's lying, right? She wasn't planning on doing anything of that sort. She's just saying that because I told her no…right?

"Yeah, I_ was_ going to play with it, get you to cum in your work uniform, and you know maybe…" she trails off and shrugs, letting my imagination run wild. There's something unfamiliar about her since last night. The whole jealousy thing, for one, then she's being soft with me. It's confusing…I mean, I don't mind the light kisses, but the ticklish caresses are too much; maybe it's her new way to break me…It's working.

"I'll be good! I – Let's start over!"

"Too late! You ruined it!" She walks out of the room and without being told to, I quickly follow.

"Rachel, please…Look, look! I'm on my hands and knees…please?" I crawl after her, as she enters a room that's an office. I nudge her legs when she stops behind the big wooden desk. She's going through the drawers, looking for something. "Rachel, I'll bark for you…Rawf! Rawf! RAWF!" I whimper when she shushes me, while she continues her search.

She pulls out a stack of papers and binders and sorts through them, as she speaks, "I just wanted you to be a good doggy, Quinnie. I wanted you to howl for me. That song you sang last night had me turned on, so turned on that I was still horny when I left your dirt cheap apartment." She says that last part with a disgusted look on her face. I guess I would be disgusted, too; if I spent a night in a low-class neighborhood, in a crumbling apartment, when I could be here…in this big beautiful house. "I just wanted to make you howl, Quinnie…but you had to ruin it. Well, you actually did me a favor…now, I don't have to touch that thing; and since I know you don't appreciate it, that'll be the last time I ever think about giving you a treat." I lower my body to the ground and I rest my whimpering head on her foot. She quickly moves it away and adds, "Bad doggies never get their bones played with." She suddenly drops down and holds a binder to my mouth, "Open." I do as I'm told and she gives me the spine of the binder to bite down on. "Now, see yourself out," she orders, while standing back up and pointing to the hallway. I carry the binder with my mouth and I groan when each crawling step causes friction on my still hard dick. She follows to the top of the steps and watches as I clumsily crawl down the staircase and reach the front door.

"You can stand up, now; and take the binder out. I don't want the neighbors to think I hired some mutt as a gardener; although, you do look like one."

I frown at that, remembering the vast differences in us…in our lifestyles. Being called a mutt isn't as bad as what other people have called me. I've heard plenty of insults, trust me; but when I think about how unworthy I am, in all aspects, of this affair…it just hurts. Not wanting to be reminded of how undeserving I am of her, _by her,_ I quickly leave, practically still hanging out of my truck, as I drive off.

**/END CHAPTER\**

****Alright, I'd love to know what you all think, so far: the characters' motives, relationships, Faberry, Finchel, etc. I hope I'm not disappointing anyone. I do want to acknowledge some of the comments about the ways of sadomasochism. I am aware of what it includes and excludes, and to further clarify, this Faberry relationship goes beyond the sadomasochism, hence the reason why her friends and therapist are so against it. They both go further than most sadists and masochists go, in normal circumstances; and their feelings (or lack thereof) contribute a lot to that fact. Anyway, enough of that…Thanks for reading, and possibly reviewing :) **


	4. Chapter 4

****Hello Lovelies; I seriously can't thank you enough for reading and reviewing, it is a pleasure to write this story and your interest is an added bonus :) I am writing multiple fics, at the moment, so my updates for this story will always be spot on, but I intend to upload a new chapter weekly.**

**IN OTHER NEWS: I now have a tumblr: loveisforlovelies and it's strictly for my fics. It will contain music, photos and hopefully artwork *hint, hint* to all you artists :) and also previews and etc. So please check it out, I posted a pic of the burger joint I used in this chapter!  
><strong>

**Also, I just want to acknowledge the fact that several of you have asked me to include Rachel's POV because you're wondering how she **_**really **_** feels about Quinn. After much thought, I decided that I want to keep this story set in one POV, which is Quinn's…I hope you don't hate me for that. I will, however, try to work in an angle that will allow you all to see what's going on in Rachel's head/heart, so please bear with me. Anyway, on we go…**

**RECAP:**

"_You can stand up, now; and take the binder out. I don't want the neighbors to think I hired some mutt as a gardener; although, you do look like one." _

_I frown at that, remembering the vast differences in us…in our lifestyles. Being called a mutt isn't as bad as what other people have called me. I've heard plenty of insults, trust me; but when I think about how unworthy I am, in all aspects, of this affair…it just hurts. Not wanting to be reminded of how undeserving I am of her, by her, I quickly leave, practically still hanging out of my truck, as I drive off. _

**CHAPTER 4:**

"What'cha looking at?"

"Nothing!" I slam the binder shut and hunch over it like a greedy carnivorous savage hovering over its prey.

"Calm yo' tits, Q; geez!" Lauren laughs and takes a seat across from me, at the wobbly table that never seems to stay balanced, no matter how many old books we use to prop up the shorter leg of the four. "I don't really care what you're looking at; I rather not know to be honest." She smirks and leans back in her chair, "No offense, of course. I'm sure those cheap porno magazines you're hiding inside that fancy college-student-looking binder will fool anyone into believing that you're actually reading something important." She cackles when I flip her off and try to fight the smile I'm holding back. "Alright, alright! So, what are you _really_ looking at, then? 'Cause your non-blushing and non-sweaty face tells me that I didn't just catch you jacking off in your…" she looks around the area "simply, _marvelous _kitchen."

"Ha ha ha, asshole. How did you even get in here, anyway? I locked the door." I snort, shaking my head at her sarcastic tone and throwing a thumb over my shoulder at the front door. She throws a nod in the same direction, telling me to turn around. I do, and sigh immediately when I see that she somehow managed to pick the two locks on the damn thing and the latch, which is now broken. "Really?" I ask, not expecting an answer. It's time like this when I hate the fact that Lauren is a well-trained locksmith. She can pretty much break into anything and not make a sound while doing so.

She shrugs and picks up the stolen salt shaker from the low-budget movie theatre we all go to very blue moon. "So, let me ask you, again, Q. If you're not bustin' a nut over what's in that binder then why are you guarding that binder with your strange, poor, little life?"

"Ha! Don't forget we're cut from the same…Uh…"

"Cloth, Einstein."

"Whatever, you're just as dirt poor as Puck and I. Shit, even Joe is struggling; and he's still getting "I'm sorry for leaving you with your fucked up mother" money from his dad, every month" I say, gripping the binder that's pressed against my chest. "So, quit trying to steal my damn salt shaker!" I half yell and half laugh as she takes the item from out of her raggedy coat pocket.

"You really need to learn to share, Q. Then again, this salt is probably all you got to eat in this dump, anyway. So, go ahead keep it." She tosses the shaker on the table, spilling some, earning a scowl from me. "Matter of fact, let's get out of here. This place is worse than mine," she gets up, waiting for me to follow suit.

"I can't go out. I'm broke; plus, I got some work to do for a new project," I explain, lifting up the binder a little to show her that it's not some secret porn book, but actually something important.

"You have all night to work on your "project" or whatever you call jerking off, Q." Her smile emits a laugh when I throw some salt grains at her. "I'm kidding! I got my share from the store break-in, I was part of, last night and I was actually thinking we can grab one of those burgers from the Burger Bar. I know you don't have shit to eat for dinner, so you wanna go or what?"

She doesn't have to ask me twice.

We decide to walk instead of taking my truck because I'm low on gas, but mainly because it's nice to just breathe in the night air and absorb the noises and scenery. We're both bundled up in old, over-sized coats that weigh us down, but we're warm so we don't complain. My hands are stuffed in my coat pockets, as I survey the area and see people who look like us: tired, hungry, a little sad and angry, and definitely bitter. People who tired their hardest to achieve some life goal or some well drawn-out plan and failed; and now we're all here. Some of us are picking through garbage bins for recyclable bottles and cans, some are talking to themselves because there's no one to listen to them, some are plotting their next crime, desperately hoping for success, and then some are like Lauren and I and Puck and Joe…just trying to be better but have no idea how to be.

"What was in the binder?" Lauren asks, with her eyes looking onward as we slowly stroll down the dingy blocks we call our neighborhood.

"Just some yard layouts and notes from a client." I answer, praying that it'll be sufficient for her to be satisfied and thus drop the subject.

"Then why were you so quick to hide it? I mean, unless these layouts include some kind of sex swing inside of a play yard swing set, then I see no reason why you were embarrassed." I see her brow furrow and I know that she's actually very curious as to why I reacted the way I did.

"I wasn't embarrassed," I refute. She scoffs. "Okay, maybe I over-reacted a _little_, but it was because you scared the shit out of me, sneaking up on me like that." I say nudging her with my elbow. "And you gotta stop doing that. I don't really mind, but you know Puck hates it." I add, as a warning.

"And I hate Puck, so I'll just keep doing it," she laughs, drawing a chuckle out of me. I always find Lauren and Puck's relationship entertaining. They used to date, but after a year of being on and off, due to stupid, childish disagreements, they decided to end their romance…for the sake of the band. Ever since then, they're always at each other's throats, always quick to find new ways to bug the hell out of one another; but I see the longing glances they steal and I hear the flirty tones disguised by insults. They're really dysfunctional, but something about their dynamic is perfect…then again, I'm seeing a therapist, so my opinion probably shouldn't be taken so seriously.

"Oh, and don't tell Puck, I'm buying you dinner," she says turning to face me. "I don't want to hear him whine about not being invited. We'll just say that we went out for a smoke."

I smile and nod, "Don't worry, he's working late tonight; probably won't be home until after ten, anyway."

"Oh okay, sweet." Her voice carries a sound of disappointment.

"You know, you can stay over until he gets home, if you want." I offer, knowing that she was hoping to see him when we get back to the apartment.

"Yeah. Alright," she responds, sounding less disappointed and more eager. I smile to myself until she says, "Maybe while we wait you can show me those secret layouts, huh," she suggests as we finally approach the Burger Bar.

"Sure," I croak out, hoping she'll forget by the time we head back.

I wait at one of the small round umbrella tables in front of the burger joint, as Lauren orders. I don't know why I'm so anxious; I can just take out the pages that show the layout of how Rachel wants her and her husband's names etched in the stone fountain and the pages that have pictures of the yard, where either Finn or Rachel are seen in the background. I'd have to do it without Lauren noticing, though; and at that thought my stomach twists…I'm sure some of the twisting is due to the cramping of my empty stomach, wanting something to digest, other than its self.

"Order up!" Lauren exclaims, dropping the white bag on the table and taking a seat.

I grip the stool I'm sitting on to keep my hands from tearing the bag open, as Lauren fishes through it, pulling out napkins, salt packets, ketchup packets, hot sauce packets…all things that aren't the burger I need in my mouth and stomach.

"OHHH, thank you!" I cry out, as she hands me not one, but two, burgers _and _a fries and drink. "Lauren, you didn't have to get me all this," I say, feeling guilty that she spent some of her money on me. "I would've been happy with just one burger."

"Don't worry about it, Q." She says, smiling and digging into her own food.

"I'll pay you back or you know return the favor when I get paid, again." I insist, as I hold a hand over my mouth to keep from spitting out any crumbs.

"It's cool, Q. You don't have to pay me back or anything, just enjoy the damn food," she says, tossing one of her fries at me and laughs, but slowly stops as her face turns from happy to serious. "Look, don't tell anyone, but I got something like an advance."

I raise an eyebrow and mumble out a "What do you mean?" around the chewed up burger in my mouth.

"I mean…" she leans in a little closer and lowers her voice, "These two guys heard about me and they want me to help them break into this popular check cashing place."

I swallow and frown, "What? Like a bank?"

"No! I mean, it's more like a place that only cashes checks for people who don't have a bank; they hold enough money to be worth the hit."

"Lauren, I-"

"Q, c'mon! I'm telling you because I trust you. This is big! It's not some liquor store or run-down shop that only holds a few thousand, which makes my cut like barely 1,000 if I'm lucky. It's starting to not be worth the risk of getting caught…But this; I can get at least 10,000 if we pull this off. I can finally move out of that sardine can of an apartment and put a down-payment on something half-way decent."

"And what about after you burn out your 10,000? How are you going to pay the rent, which will be higher, especially since you won't have any roommates?"

"That's why I'm telling you first, Q. I think that if you, Puck, and Joe move in, we can definitely get something better. It only makes sense that we live together since we're a fucking band and see each other almost every damn day of our lives, anyway. You just have to convince Puck. I'm not worried about Joe because we all know he'll be glad to get out of his mom's place."

I rub my neck and sigh, "What if you get caught? How do you know that you can even trust these guys?"

"I'm not trying to worry about that. I know they're not cops because they gave me 1,000 when I agreed to help, and that would be entrapment if they were cops. Plus, I've worked with one of them before, so I know I can trust him; and he seems to be the brain of the operation. He's smart and he's hit one of these places before, so…" she trails off when she sees that I'm still not approving of this.

"Well, you already agreed; and I doubt you can back out now, since they paid you, so I hope it all goes according to plan and you don't end up in a prison cell…Trust me, it's no picnic." I mumble, before putting some fries in my mouth.

"So, you'll talk to Puck?"

I roll my eyes and nod.

"Sweet!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

As soon as we step back into the apartment, my eyes are set on the binder, until Lauren knocks me over and heads straight to it, grabbing it and fighting me off, after I get back up and try to wrestle it out of her hands. We both have a tight grip on it, so I step on Lauren's foot to try to get her to reach down to rub it, thus letting it go. A glimpse of a smile ghosts my face when she drops one hand, but instead of reaching for her foot she slaps the underside of my balls through my jumpsuit.

I yelp and release the binder, so I can cup my sack before doubling over.

"HA! Works everytime!" She laughs; she's right…It does work every time, just ask Puck and Joe. She's got the "slap 'em on the balls" trick mastered.

"Asshole!" I reply, groaning at the ache and at the sight of Lauren flipping through the pages of the binder, until she stops and scoffs.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me, Q?" She shoves the open binder in my face, showing me the pictures of the backyard, where Rachel is standing off to the side, in the background. "What the hell is this shit?"

"None of your damn business; so drop it," I smack the binder out of her hand and straighten up my posture. I can feel the anger threatening to raise my blood pressure the second Lauren doesn't back down from this.

"Are you working on her yard?" She asks pointing at some of the layouts that are scattered on the floor.

I scowl at her and move to the binder and start picking up the ripped out pages, and shoving them back inside. "Lauren…Please," I beg from my dropped down position, not turning to face her as I hold the book to my chest.

"The yard that belongs to her and her husband? !" She's done trying to be calm about this and it's obvious in her voice. "Are you insane, Q? ! What the fuck is the matter with you? !"

I quickly stand up and spin to meet her angry eyes. "Nothing! Nothing is the matter with me!" I shout back, "I didn't ask for this; it's my job! I told her I would find her another worker, but she said no!" I explain, trying to defend myself.

"So? ! Who cares what she said, Q!" Her hands are waving about crazily. "They're _married_! You don't go to the house of a _married_ couple and fuck the wife!" I'm about to respond, but she cuts me off, "Oh, excuse me, you don't fuck her…You don't fuck her because she doesn't even want to touch your dick! She treats you like crap, Q!" She steps closer and places her hands on each of my shoulders. "Do you understand?" She asks; her voice dropping in volume and in intensity. "Rachel is married and she doesn't even treat you like you deserve to be treated."

I don't even feel the tears that fall until they drip into the gap of the binder, wetting the pages that are inside. The pages that have the layouts of something that I can study and turn into something beautiful for her; I need this…

"I need her," I whimper out, before I even realize what I'm saying.

"You don't need her, Q. Me and Puck and Joe…We can help you find someone who will love you and treat you right."

I push off of her when she goes in to hug me. "No!" I shake my head and the binder at her. "This is something I have to do! I _have _to!"

"Why? ! So you can go over to their house every day and work your ass off then get your ass scratched up by her, before she sends you home with your tail between your legs and a boner that you'll just whack off, imaging that it's her…when in reality she's probably getting fucked by her husband while you're alone in your room touching yourself!"

"Fuck you!" I throw my weight at her, ramming my body against hers until she backs off.

"No, fuck you, Q! You need to hear this shit! And if I have to be the one to hurt your feelings then I'm sorry but I will until you realize that you-"

"I love her!" I yell out, over her. "I love her! I love her, Lauren. I love her…"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I wake up in my bed, in just my boxers and a worn-in wifebeater. I look around and don't see anyone, but my door is agape. I roll over on my back and rub my eyes, groaning at how sore they feel.

"Fuck," I curse, as the memories of last night come back to me. I was crying uncontrollably, saying "I love her, I love her, I love her," over and over again, to Lauren, as she hugged me. I remember after what seemed like an hour, I finally drifted off to sleep. She probably waited until Puck got home, so he can help her get me to bed.

"Quinn? You up?" I hear Puck ask, as he waits outside my door. "I found some bread in the cupboard, if you want a slice."

"Yeah; save me a slice," I sit up and reach over to the one dresser I have for my wardrobe and pull out some clean clothes. After I shower, I head down the short hall and into the tiny kitchen. Puck is leaning against the small counter and quickly looks up from the table when he sees me enter the area, wearing my work uniform. I look down at the table and see the binder set on top of it with a paper plate and a piece of half toasted, half burnt bread.

"Thanks," I say, as I sit down and take a bite, eyeing the binder and waiting for the inevitable.

"So, how you feeling?" His voice isn't judgmental, like I was expecting, instead it's caring.

"I'm okay, thanks." Only the sound of the crunchy bread is audible, but I can feel the tension in the air.

After a few more seconds of silence, Puck sighs and sits down in one of the empty folding chairs, we have as kitchen furniture.

"I'm not going to tell you what to do _or _what you should do. You already know how I feel. I just hope that you're careful…I mean, I know you're already in pretty deep with her, but you don't know if she feels the same." He's staring at me, but I don't return the look. "Do you think that she feels the same way that you do?" The question isn't met with an answer right away, as I pick at the black crust, that easily breaks away from the rest of the bread…It's so fragile; quick to crumble at a single touch…just like me when I feel her on my skin.

"Do you?" He asks, again.

This time I shake my head; he sighs at the motion, "Then why are you torturing yourself?"

"This…" I reach for the binder and hold it in my hands like a delicate promise that I will never break, "…if I do this…maybe I can prove that I'm good at something; that I'm not just a screw-up. _This_…I can't fuck this up."

He looks at me; his brow furrowed and his mouth a tight-lipped line. When it's clear to him that I am not going to back out, he runs a hand over his short Mohawk and sighs.

"Just be careful."

**/END CHAPTER\**

****Alright, I know there was no Faberry in this chapter, but I needed Quinn's pals to understand why she refuses to let go of Rachel; and also I wanted to present a future plot point (Lauren's next break-in) that will benefit several of the characters journey to finding a better life. Next chapter will have mostly Faberry, along with a more appearances from Finn and Ms. Lopez; and quite possibly Puck, Lauren and Joe. (BTW what do you think of her bandmates?)**

**Oh, and do you guys have any guesses as to what landed Quinn in prison? I've mentioned her past: the court order to go to therapy, the probation, the fine that she's still paying off, the difficulty she has finding a job that will earn her some real money, due to her record. No one has seemed to notice or be curious enough to ask lol For all you know, Quinn could be a axe-wielding psycho ;)**

**Anyway, Thanks for stopping by, Lovelies! Hope you enjoyed :) **


	5. Chapter 5

****So, we meet again, Lovelies! I hope you're having a lovely week, so far. I have a little something for you…**

**Please, forgive me for any typos, grammatical errors, etc. Sorry :(**

**RECAP:**

"_I'm not going to tell you what to do or what you should do. You already know how I feel. I just hope that you're careful…I mean, I know you're already in pretty deep with her, but you don't know if she feels the same." He's staring at me, but I don't return the look. "Do you think that she feels the same way that you do?" The question isn't met with an answer right away, as I pick at the black crust, that easily breaks away from the rest of the bread…It's so fragile; quick to crumble at a single touch…just like me when I feel her on my skin. _

"_Do you?" He asks, again._

_This time I shake my head; he sighs at the motion, "Then why are you torturing yourself?"_

"_This…" I reach for the binder and hold it in my hands like a delicate promise that I will never break, "…if I do this…maybe I can prove that I'm good at something; that I'm not just a screw-up. This…I can't fuck this up."_

_He looks at me; his brow furrowed and his mouth a tight-lipped line. When it's clear to him that I am not going to back out, he runs a hand over his short Mohawk and sighs. _

"_Just be careful."_

**CHAPTER 5:**

As I pull up to their home, I take a deep breath, still trying to erase last night from my mind. It was the first time I admitted, out loud, my true feelings for Rachel. Up until that point, my friends just assumed I was just interested in the physical and didn't understand why I was so over-protective whenever they spoke ill of her or our relationship. I remember the words shooting up my throat from deep inside my gut, my core, my soul, before I could even stop it. "I love her! I love her!" Those words have a mind of their own and they are stubborn and selfish, loud and obnoxious, riotous and dangerous; they were much bigger and grandiose than I am as a whole person. They don't care how much they take from me; they don't care that they disrupted everything and have made my life that much more complicated. I check my tired face and shake my head, praying that I can make it through today without seeing her.

Stepping out of my truck, I see that both their cars are still in the driveway and I contemplate getting back into my truck until one of them leaves…preferably Rachel. I start to unlock my door when Finn steps out of the house to get the newspaper, lying perfectly, on their welcome mat. He sees my truck and waves at me.

"Hey, come on in! We got breakfast!" He calls, waiting for me to make my way over.

Damn him for offering me something I can't refuse…A waft of delicious smelling food floats across their front lawn and pulls me in. I quickly jog around their green grass and enter their home, which still makes me feel so small.

"How's it going?" He asks, smacking my upper back with his huge hand.

I force a smile, "I'm alright; and yourself?" I ask, nervously as we enter the kitchen. She's standing by the stove, with her back to us. I can tell that she showered already, but she's in lounge pajamas and I wonder why she's not in her work clothes, yet.

"I'm good; hey, Rach, Fabray is here." He announces, as he leads me to their fancy looking table; the kind that's made out of some kind of shiny expensive rock, not the cheap wobbly plastic and metal junk table, back in my run-down apartment.

She quickly turns around, dropping her cooking spatula mid-spin. "_Shit!_" she curses and bends down to pick up the utensil and then placing it in the sink, before reaching into a drawer for a clean one. "Good morning, Fabray," she says, not looking at me, as she flips the pancake over.

"Good morning, Mrs. Hudson."

"Hudson-_Berry_," she corrects, while placing the last pancake on the stack that she's been building. She then puts down the spatula and carries the plate over to the table.

Finn immediately starts adding them to his plate, so he can drench them in butter and syrup. Rachel goes back to the counter to pick up another bowl, an extra place setting, and some glasses. Not wanting her to struggle I quickly rush over and take the place setting and the glasses from her, without a word. She looks up at me and something inside me twists, as she smirks and raises an eyebrow when our fingers brush against each other. I breathe deeply through my nose, not trusting to open my mouth, in case those stubborn, stubborn words come flying out, again. _I love her, I love her; I love you!_

"Hey, Fabray!"

I snap back to reality and realize that Rachel has already made her way back to the table and is now trying to add something to Finn's plate.

"You gonna eat or what?" laughs Finn, as he waves off the strange-looking food that Rachel has made. She glares at him angrily; he doesn't notice.

"Yeah; sorry." I walk over and sit next to Finn, not wanting to get too close to his wife because I'm not sure how either one of us will react.

She looks at me, with the serving spoon raised. I eye the suspicious food that looks like crumbly yellow cheese...Is it egg?

Not wanting to be rude, I nod, "Yes, please."

Finn cringes when Rachel puts some clumps of whatever it is on my plate. "It's egg substitute," he says with a disgusted look on his face, "You know, like egg, but not really…It's nasty." He says pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

I look back down at the egg imposter and decide that I should have a chaser, just in case. I reach for a glass and pour some juice into it, handing it to Rachel first, who seems surprised by my gesture. She takes it after giving me a small smile and letting her fingers brush along mine, again. I gulp and quickly pour myself a glass and add a pancake to my plate, taking a piece of the flapjack into my mouth.

"Try it," she says, throwing a small nod at the clumpy pile in front of me. "I'm sure your tongue is _much better_ at tasting certain things than Finn's."

I choke on the piece of pancake going down my throat and Finn slaps my back to get me to stop coughing, while Rachel looks on amused. God, is she trying to kill me? I contemplate that as I drink all my orange juice to soothe my rough throat. When I'm done, she waits for me to try it. I poke the clumps with my fork, before putting on a brave face and slowly lifting some into my mouth. As soon as they touch my tongue I can tell that they're indeed not real egg…their texture is off and they have a weird foamy taste, as the dissolve in my mouth; I regret drinking all my juice. My jaw flexes as I force myself to swallow the damn fake egg, with a smile.

Finn scoffs, "I can't believe you like that stuff," he comments, shaking his head in disbelief, before continuing with his pancakes.

I look at Rachel, who seems pleased, as she waits for me to finish everything on my plate. Putting some more awful egg substitute in my mouth, I chew slowly and can't help but think…Yes, she is trying to kill me.

"Well!" Finn interrupts our staring contest, "I'm all done!" He rubs his belly and wipes his hands on a napkin. "I'm gonna head out, now." He gets up and goes to kiss a sitting Rachel, who moves her head so he misses, frowning he shrugs and then looks at me. "Oh hey, Fabray. You should totally come out with me and Rach, tonight."

"Uh," I furrow my brow and try to think of an excuse not to.

"She might have plans, Finn." Rachel says, giving me a look.

"Yeah, I mean…I kind of have this thing I have to do…at this place," I mumble, while rubbing my neck.

Finn groans, "C'mon, Fabray! I really need a buddy tonight. We're going to some boring dinner party thing for her work. She has an extra ticket."

"Finn, I don't think she'd want to-"

"Please! It's free food and an open bar, c'mon," he cuts-off his wife.

I perk up at free food and alcohol. "Uh, sure. I mean, if it's alright with you, Rachel."

She glares at me and I give her my best apologetic look. I can't turn down free food…It can't be as bad as the stale bread at my place or even this weird egg crap.

"I guess." She answers, an eyebrow raised and her eyes narrowed in on me.

"Alright!" Finn fist pumps, "See you two, later!" He calls out, before running out the house and slamming the door shut in excitement.

"What the hell is your problem?" She asks and gets up from her seat as soon as Finn leaves. I shrink a little at her angry stance and face. "Are you crazy? You're not coming with us, tonight; you do know that, right?" She says, grabbing the dishes off the table and carrying them to the sink.

I quickly stand up and start to gather the rest of the dishes, with my back to her, so she can't see me stuff the last pancake into my mouth.

"Are you listening to me, Quinn? !" She questions, turning me around by my shoulder. My cheeks are puffed out and I'm sure there's pancake crumbs on my face. She furrows her brow, her eyes trained on my full cheeks. "Did you just shove an entire pancake in your mouth?"

I nod, afraid that if I move my lips to speak, pancake crumbs will fly out and land on her lovely, confused face.

"Finish it," she orders, studying my jaw as it flexes and tightens and grinds. "Good," she says and wipes the mess off my chin the corners of my lips. "Are you still hungry?" She asks, taking the dishes from me, brushing her fingertips along the back of my hand.

"No, I'm full, now...thanks," I respond and walk over to help her with washing the dishes. It's quiet, as she washes and I dry; and I'm not sure what to say, or if I should even say anything, at all.

"Why did you agree to tonight?" Her question is met with a few seconds of silence, before I manage to stop staring at the way she scrubs the plates…forceful and angry.

"I…I won't go if it bothers you. It's not exactly the ideal situation for either of us, so-"

"Then why did you agree to it?" She sets down the plates she's washing and turns off the water, so she can turn and stare at me with her demanding eyes.

"The food," I squeak out and look down at the dish towel in my hands. "I…I'm not…I don't have every much to eat at my place." I feel my face heat up from embarrassment and my voice cracks; a metaphor for my walls breaking down, slowly.

"Look at me," she commands, as she lifts my head up by pushing up my chin with her soft, wet hand. "Is that also why you just inhaled that pancake?"

"Yes," I answer and step back, turning away again. I regret telling her…I don't want her to make fun of my malnourishment.

"You can come to the dinner," she says, stepping closer and trapping me against the sink. She stands on her toes, so that her lips are lingering close to mine; the tips of our noses touching. I close my eyes, unable to handle her big brown eyes stealing my soul at such a close proximity. _I love you._ Those words are trying to push their way past my tightly closed lips, as my heart crashes against my rib cage. "In the meantime," she nips at my nose, "I have something else you can eat."

I shudder at her words; I open my eyes and see her lusty stare. Lifting her up, by her waist, I carry her to her fancy table and am thankful that we cleared it of any dishes. I lay her down on it and she smiles at me, already squirming out of her pajama pants and underwear. Goosebumps travel up her legs once her bare skin touches the cold tabletop. I climb on top of the incredibly sturdy table and kneel between her legs. Raising her left leg up, I start kissing her soft foot; it has a scent of strawberry body wash and she shivers when I nibble her toes. I continue caressing her skin as I make my way to the inside of her thigh and I suck lightly, knowing how much it relaxes her.

She breathes heavily in appreciation but mumbles, "Hurry, Quinn; I can't be late for work."

I look at the kitchen clock and see that it's thirty to eight; I can get her off in two minutes, so I decide to drag it out to at least five. I nuzzle her clit and take in her fresh scent.

"Mmm, you smell good," I compliment, letting my lips brush against her wet ones.

"Hurry up," she moans, wrapping her legs around my head.

I smile at how eager she is for me to please her…and who am I to deny her? I drag the tip of my tongue up and down her slit for a while, making her squirm closer to me.

"Quinnnn," her voice is close to being whiney. I check the time on the clock; I got two minutes. I grab her waist and roughly pull her closer, until my face is pressed tight against her center. She gasps and digs her nails into my scalp, as soon as I stick my tongue into her, swirling it around like I'm writing a love letter to her pussy.

"Oh my fucking God!" She moans loudly and her hips wiggle under my hands. I pinch them lightly, knowing how she likes the soft tickling feeling. I add a few nibbles to her clit and she cums when I flick my tongue on it once.

I leave my tongue nestled around her clit, caressing it as she tries to calm down. Soft giggly moans escape her lips, the bottom one is a bit swollen from her biting down on it. I look at the clock and kiss her sensitive clit; proud to have made her cum with forty seconds to spare. My eyes drift up her body and rest on her satisfied face, her eyes are closed and she's smiling, letting her fingertips massage my scalp. It's something that she does as a thank you, I think.

"Thank you…" she says in a winded breath.

I perk up and lift my head, so her hands drop lazily on her own hips. Her eyes are still closed, but she still reaches her hands back up to grab the collar of my work jumpsuit. I let her pull me up to her, my hands on either side of her head, as she grips my collar and finally opening her eyes. They're a lighter shade of brown than I'm used to, and it takes my breath away. She notices the stutter in my breathing, and smirks.

"Thank you for eating my vegan cooking."

I nod stupidly, completely distracted by the angelic look on her face.

"I know you hated it…" she adds; and that gets my attention. I gulp and try to pull away, but she wraps her arms around my neck, bringing me down to lie on her; my head upon her chest. "I don't care if you hated it, Quinn. I'm just happy that you at least tried it and even ate all of it." She rubs the back of my neck and I relax, instantly. My heart is now beating a happy, steady rhythm; and my fears are fading away. "Why did you do it?"

I can hear her heart pick up, as the question falls from her lips and onto the top of my head. I can feel the slight quiver of her lips against my hairline, as she waits for an answer; her warm uneven breath softly blowing through my hair. Even the stroking of her fingers, on my neck, becomes more erratic. Is she nervous?

"I didn't want you to feel like your cooking went to waste…or wasn't appreciated." I answer honestly, hoping it's not too…I don't know…personal for her comfort. We don't normally talk about things other than sex. I'm not even sure how she feels about me; if she even feels anything for me, at all. I panic when she doesn't respond, but she stops rubbing my neck. I lift my head off her chest, not liking how my answer has picked up her heart beat significantly…I've angered her with my stupid feelings and emotions. I get off her completely and look away as she pulls her underwear and pants back on.

"I'm sorry, I –"

"I have to get ready for work; you can start on the yard, now." She says, as she hops off the table and walks out of the kitchen.

When she disappears upstairs, I smack myself on my forehead, "_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_" I curse, quietly before going back outside to my truck to retrieve all my equipment and layouts. After gathering what I need, I slam the back door of my truck shut, frustrated that I had no control of my words, again. It's fucking ridiculous, to be honest; and I've made a fool of myself. She probably doesn't want anything to do with me, now…not after what _that _answer. I might as well have said _I love you! I love you! _ At least it would have made the rejection worth it. I shake my head and try to force the hurt down and save it for fuel when I start on her – Excuse me, _their _yard – because she's married. She's married to him; she's his wife; and apparently I'm his "buddy," as he claimed me to be, earlier in the kitchen. What a mess this all is…I just want to say "fuck it" and drive away; not even bother dealing with the awkwardness of this situation, the physical and emotional toll this is all having on me. I literally haven't had sex in nearly a year…and by sex, I mean someone else actually touching my dick and letting me use it and actually cumming. I'm so wound up that I lash out at everyone…my friends who I know are just trying to look out for me. I can't even get off on my own anymore…The only time I can get excited it when she teases me. It's like my body has been craving her for so long that it refuses to respond to anyone else's touch; sometimes, I feel like I may have a chance…that she might actually stop being disgusted by me and just finally touch me there, but I know it'll never happen. I should be lucky that she even lets me near her…not many women take kindly to my type. Maybe if I was rich and had a fancy job, and an expensive car, and a big two-story house...Maybe if I had _something, anything_ coming for me, I'd get Rachel to consider me someone with potential and not just some freak with a crappy life. My face flushes in shame, despite the fact that no one can is around to see how pathetic I look, right now.

"Quinn," she calls to me from the driveway.

_Crap. _I take a deep breath, holding back the tears in my eyes, and I turn around to see her several feet away, by her silver Jaguar. Thankfully, the sun is finally high up and bright enough to cause her to squint, not noticing my sad expression.

"I'm going to work, now. You're welcome to make yourself lunch; and try not to drag dirt into the house." She doesn't wait for a response; she just hops into her car and takes off, leaving me to my duties. I sigh, releasing the breath and tears I was holding in; and head to the back of the house.

Glancing over open space, I start imaging the layouts, I modified, coming to life before my eyes. I can picture the built in BBQ grill, the raised dock starting just below the kitchen window, the cement on the right, and the healthy green grass on the left with a small vegetable garden and with the fountain in the back corner, surrounded by various flowers. I look at my notebook, with my daily goals penciled in, and know that I will definitely need more than a week to finish, but I'll work the extra days free of any labor charge, off the clock. Hell, for her, I'd do it all completely free; but I can't tell her that…It'll be like saying: _I love you! I love you! _ I scoff at the fact that those words keep taunting me, and how easily they make my insides hurt. I decide to put all that pent-up angst to work, as I start measuring the area and making size adjustments to the layouts. By the time noon time rolls around, I've got the space mapped out with little flags, indicating where the grass will start and the cement end, where the fountain and BBQ grill will be placed, and how big the patio will be. I feel my stomach growl; and the heat has made me extremely thirsty. Heading toward the sliding door, I see my reflection in the glass; I'm sweaty and my uniform is dirty from all the kneeling in the soil I've been doing, while measuring. I sigh and try to brush off the dirt, but it only smudges into the fabric.

"Damn it," I kick at the soil in frustration. I need to get in there without tracking any dirt in. I'm about to just give up and just go back around front and drink from the water hose and just work through my hunger, when an idea hits me. I peer around the yard, making sure no one else is around, as I slowly unzip my jumpsuit. It falls around my ankles, leaving me in a wifebeater tank and boxers. I open the sliding door and sit down, with my butt inside, while I kick off my work boots and let my jumpsuit slip off my socked feet. I smile at my success and quickly shut the sliding door, abandoning my dirty work uniform outside. I observe the area, I've yet to be in; I assume it's the living room, judging by the furniture and large flat screen TV. I gape at the fanciness of it all, as I walk up the two stairs it takes to reach the kitchen. I feel a little less intimidated in here, knowing that I was given permission to use it and its edible items to my convenience. I go directly to the sink and wash my hands and face before I even dare touch anything. I then grab a glass from the drying rack and fill it with ice and water from the special dispenser built into the refrigerator freezer. I lift the glass up and see how clean the water is and I smile, overjoyed to be drinking water that's from a filter and not the rusty pipe tap water in my apartment. After two glasses of cold water I open the fridge and grin at the amount of food inside.

"Fucking jackpot!" I pull out some lunch meat, a slice of sandwich cheese, and mayonnaise and mustard. Putting it all on the counter I open the pantry and find a brand new loaf of bread. "Are you kidding me?" I untwist the tie and take out two soft pieces of wheat bread, smelling the freshness, before squirting mustard and mayonnaise on them and slapping on some meat and cheese. I take a bite and moan around the mouthful, "This is so good!"

"It's just a sandwich," I hear from behind me.

I spit out some of it and spin around, "Oh shit!"

She smirks and reaches behind me to grab a napkin and uses it to clean up the food I spit out.

"No, I got it," I insist, taking the napkin from her, with my non-sandwich-holding hand, and picking up after myself and crumbling it up, too nervous to move to throw it in the trash. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear you come in," I explain, avoiding eye contact and feeling my face get red for the millionth time today.

She laughs a small breathy laugh, "I came for lunch…" I can feel her move closer until she's right beside me and her hand is trailing up my back, over my tank. "Why are you in your underwear…in my kitchen?"

My face gets brighter at remembering my lack of clothes. "Uh, my work uniform was dirty and I was really thirsty and…you food in here. I – I didn't want to bring dirt in." I wince when my voice cracks, while she scratches lightly between my shoulder blades. I tremble and set my sandwich down on the napkin I laid out for it.

"I think you're still dirty," she licks my neck and hums, "I can taste your sweat…" I feel self-conscious until she licks, again, trailing down from my nape to my upper back. "It tastes good, like you've been working _real hard_."

I whimper, feeling a certain part of me getting worked up and real hard, as her lusty voice and soft touches tease me.

"Were you working real hard, Quinnie?" I nod. "For me? You did it real hard for me?"

I whimper, again and squeak out a "yes!" as she presses her front against my back and slides her hands under the front of my wifebeater.

She scratches deep along my ribs to around my sides. "I appreciate that," she purrs into my ear. "I wish there was some way to help you relax though, you're so tense," she teases, while scratching back to my stomach and tracing over the "R" she marked into me. "Do you want a massage?" She says, between small bites on my shoulders.

"Yes, please," I breathe out and immediately squirm when her hard strokes turn into soft rubs that trail up and down the middle of my stomach. "Ahh, wait!" I push her hands out and turn around to face her. She looks taken aback and annoyed that I interrupted her seduction technique. "Uh, I – Can you do it a little harder…please."

"Why?" She asks quickly, with a mischievous look in her eyes. I'm distracted by the gleaming, as she tickles my stomach, again. I squeak and snort at her touch; and then cover my mouth and nose in embarrassment.

She looks amused and I blush more, "I'm just going to go back outside, now." I reach behind me and pat my hand around the counter, blindly searching for my sandwich. She raises her eyebrow and smirks; it makes me nervous and all I want to do is just get back outside, away from her. I'm so confused; I don't know why she's being so gentle with me and why my dick likes it so much. "May I use your bathroom?" I blurt out, giving up on playing hide and seek with my sandwich and needing to do something about the erection about to poke her.

Her face is split by a huge smile, as she flashes her perfect teeth at me. "Down the hall and to the right," she instructs, not breaking eye contact.

"Thank you," I try to smile back, but I know it looks fake anyway.

I side step around her with the little space that she gives me and I scurry away; but before I can shut the door, I hear her call out to me, "Don't get cum on my bathroom rug or towels, Quinnie!" And shortly after the sound of the front door opening and closing echoes inside the empty house.

I breathe a sigh of relief and pull my boxers down, glad to have some privacy. My erection pops up and hits my lower stomach, pre-cum already wetting the tip. I haven't been this hard in weeks, not even when she was giving me her best clawing. I scoff at the strangeness of it all. Why am I so turned on, right now? She didn't even hurt me…she was so soft. I don't entertain the question too long, as I start rubbing up and down my shaft. I let my head drop back, my eyes catching glimpse of some magazines on the shelf of the little bathroom rack. I continue stroking, but I reach out and grab a magazine, curious what to know what kind of reading material she thinks is appropriate for the taking a dump. They're all home decorating magazines, and I can't help, but smile when I see one about gardening. I can imagine her tending to the garden I'll make for her in the backyard; humming a little song, like she does sometimes after I've pleasured her and she's slowly drifting into a short nap. I smile at the mental picture, but instantly frown when I notice the mailing sticker on the cover of the magazine…_Mrs. Rachel Hudson-Berry. _

The magazine hits the floor when I let it go, as if it were some dangerous item. Without another thought I bend down to pick it up, shoving it under all the other magazines and quickly tucking my softening dick back in my boxers. I wash my hands, scrubbing them like they're stained with blood...blood from a marriage that I'm killing. My breath starts coming out in deep heaves and I'm mumbling to myself, as soap suds fill the sink, "C'mon, c'mon!" I whimper, feeling the skin of my palms get hot from the water and the friction from all the hand scrubbing. Looking into the mirror, as I rub the skin on the back of my hands nearly raw, I see tears coming down my face that I didn't even realize had fallen. I shut the water off and lean over the skin and scream against my wet hands, so my crying is muffled…that way, I don't have to hear how pathetic I've become.

**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

Before four thirty, I finish up my daily goals: measuring out everything and making a trip to the hardware store to buy the supplies for the raised garden bed. I even managed to put it together, minus actually positioning it and laying down the mesh lining, before filling it with the special soil mix. For now, it's just an empty 6x4 foot wooden frame, with four corner posts, ready to be placed in the ground to support the raised bed.

I look at the frame and decide to take it home, with me. I don't want them asking me about it, since it's not really part of the original layouts. I just want to do something nice for her. I still bought the wood and other materials with the money they gave me for supplies, but I'm getting paid in two days for a project I did last week, so I can just put the not too shabby amount of $175 back into the envelope I keep the rest of the money in. Satisfied with the plan, I carefully lift one wooden frame into the bed of my truck and collect my tools and loading them in as well.

Glad that I packed up, before either of the two got home from work I breathe a little easier, knowing I can easily leave and not show up, again for the dinner tonight. I can easily say that I forgot because I was so tired, because I rather starve than go through the night hearing Rachel introduce Finn and her husband and me as a "buddy" of Finn's. This easy escape brings a smile to my face, until I look across the street, one house to the right, and see someone I was not expecting.

"Fucking shit!" I race around to the driver's side, fumbling with my keys as I try to unlock the car door. I look over my shoulder and see that she's already pulling out of her driveway, facing my direction. "C'mon!" I yell, not wanting her to see me. The key finally sticks in and I turn it, but I'm a second to late, as I hear her engine purring behind me; and judging by the fact that there is no stop sign or traffic light posted nearby, I know she recognizes me…even in my dirty uniform.

The sound of her passenger window rolling down with a press of a button, is followed by, "Quinn?"

I shut my eyes and scowl, before sighing and turning around. She's ducking her head and leaning over the passenger's seat to get a better look.

"Ms. Lopez," I mutter, trying to not appear too annoyed.

"What are you doing here?" She asks looking like she's the one that got caught somewhere she wasn't supposed to be.

A sudden realization comes over me…She knew Rachel and Finn, all along! She's their goddamn neighbor; and she didn't tell me!

"You knew all along, didn't you?" I question, not holding back the anger in my voice. "You knew that Rachel and Finn were your neighbors and you just acted like you didn't have a clue! You just sat there pretending like I was just talking about a fucking nobody, when you're probably knocking on their front door asking for a cup of fucking sugar!" I snap at her, fuming as my body shakes at how livid I am. "No wonder you want me to stop seeing her; you don't think I'm good enough for your perfect little neighborhood and your perfect little neighbor friends!"

"Quinn!" She shouts at me, as she gets out of her car and I get into mine. "Wait a second!" She says, tapping on my window. I ignore her and grip the steering wheel, too distracted by the thought of my therapist and my lover and my lover's husband all having dinner together, laughing over fancy talk and sharing stories about their fancy jobs. I can't stand it; she can't know that she' neighbors with my fucking therapist! "I didn't tell you because what would have changed? Nothing! Nothing, Quinn!" She says through the window, "She's still married and she still doesn't feel how you feel."

My eyes water and I press my head on the steering wheel, to hide my face. After a few seconds of reining in my tears I punch the horn in frustration, "I love her! I love her!" I shout along with the honks. "It's not fair…I love her so much, it's not fair!" I start the truck and it roars to life, causing Ms. Lopez to jump back, even more than my crazy screaming and angry fists. I shift into drive and take off, not bothering to see the judgmental look on my therapist's face.

**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

I wake up, laid out in my darkness of my truck. I sit up in a burst of energy and see that I'm parked outside my apartment. I see a light flashing on my work cell and see that I have a missed call and a voicemail from a number I don't recognize. I squint at the bright light, as I flip the phone open to listen to the message.

"_**Quinn, this is Rachel. I'm calling to let you know that I am very upset that you have decided to bail on dinner tonight. I was looking forward to seeing you dressed up, but I'm sure you're dressing down with some slut, right now. I just hope you know that I'm disappointed in you. I thought you were different from Finn…He bailed on dinner with my mother, last night; and now you're practically doing the same. Anyway, I'm not leaving the house tomorrow morning until around 7:45AM, so I'd prefer if you didn't show up until after I'm gone. Thank you…and enjoy fucking your slut."**_

A loud bang on my window causes me to throw my phone up into the air and to almost shit myself. "What the fuck!" I yell, opening my door and slamming it against Puck, who just laughs at my pale face.

"Where the fuck you been?" He asks amused, as I notice Joe and Lauren behind him, carrying two 24 packs of beer.

"I fell asleep," I say, leaving out the part about the rest of my day.

"Well, get your ass up because we're celebrating!" He says, pulling me out of the truck and locking up the door behind me.

I squirm away and straighten out my uniform, like it's a fucking top-notch outfit. "And what exactly are we celebrating?"

"The fact that we are young and alive and fucking kickass!" Joe exclaims, in his preachy voice. I smile at his excitement.

"Cine Bar, finally wrote up a contract for us, Q!" Lauren explains.

"What? !" My smile gets wider, "Are you serious? !"

"Hell yes!" Puck butts in and throws an arm around my shoulders and ruffling my hair, as all four of us shove each other like a mini mosh pit, not knowing how to express our emotions in gentle ways; but we don't give a fuck…a bar just signed us as their house band!

**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

A 24 pack of beer later, we're wasted and laughing at nothing, as we attempt to play poker.

"Gol'fish!" I say, slamming my cards down on the wobbly table and laughing when Puck cracks up so hard he almost falls off his chair.

"You two are idiots," Lauren mumbles and starts taking pairs out of the million cards she has in her hand.

"I thought we were playing War?" Joe pipes in, confused, making Puck and I laugh harder.

"Ow, ow…My sides hurt," Puck says, hugging himself, trying to sit up in his chair, but Lauren kicks her foot out and purposely pushes his chair back, causing him to fall off completely. We all laugh at that, before calming down and going to lay out in the living room floor. It's small, so we're close by each other and we can hear each other breathe and start to relax.

"Man, I can't believe we got a contract," Joe says in almost a whisper.

"I know, right?" Puck responds, "They guarantee each of us 250 a week…more if they go over their bar sales."

"And we only have to play five nights a week for two hours, each set. That's not bad…especially since we're doing something we love, right?" Lauren adds.

"Yeah," we all answer at once and laugh at the dreamy tones in our voices.

"I miss this," the youngest of us, comments, "We hardly just hang out anymore; we all got jobs, which is cool and all…but don't you guys just miss hanging out and not having to worry about everything else?"

"Like back in high school?" Lauren asks, referring to when we all met, Joe a grade under us, and we decided to start a band.

"Yeah…I mean, shit was easy back then."

"True," I sit up and lean my back against the old couch, "but at the same time, we couldn't wait to get out of there." The rest nod in remembrance.

"At least, we were getting laid!" Puck laughs.

"Correction…_You and Lauren_ were getting laid…by each other," I reply and nudge him and his ex with my feet.

"That's because you and Joe were a buncha prudes!" Lauren cracks, "You two could've gotten plenty of action, but no you were too busy humping your bibles," Puck and Lauren laugh and hi-five each other.

Joe shoots up from lying down, "Hey! Screw you, guys!" He says, flipping them off.

"Yeah, you assholes…maybe if you two weren't making out during band practice then Joe and I wouldn't have had to turn to God just to pray that he'd keep us from going blind!"

"Yeah!" Joe agrees, standing and leaning over to hi-five me, but Puck and Lauren push him over, causing him to fall across our still numb bodies; and we laugh until we can't no more and drift into a soundless sleep; our minds free of any worries…and mine almost completely free of her, except I keep hearing _"I love her, I love her," _echo inside me.

**/END CHAPTER\**

****Alright, so I'm not sure how I feel about this one…Let me know what you think and what you like, and don't like…or any other comments, questions, etc. I was trying to get you guys to see a different side to Rachel, so I hope it came across how I intended it. Anyway, I hope you found it worthy to come back next time! Until then, THANK YOU, LOVELIES!**


	6. Chapter 6

****Hello, Lovelies! Again, I want to thank you all for being amazing and sticking with this weird little tale of mine; and of course an extra thank you to those who've been reviewing. I plan to start responding to you reviewers between chapters to answer any questions and to give you some spoilers because I like to give back :) Anyways, on we go…P.S. Sorry for the wait! I hope this one makes it worth it.**

**CHAPTER 6:**

I'm not sure what it was that shook me from my drunken slumber, but I know for certain that I am up way too early. Maybe it was my responsible, internal clock that was alarming me of my priorities; but I hardly doubt that. My body is usually in survival mode, always seeking out those extra minutes in which it can rest its tired soul. Yeah, it was definitely something else that led me to my truck an hour early for work. I rub at my eyes, as I wait for the engine to warm up in the cold morning air and for this hangover to stop kicking me in the ass. I expected to feel horrible, right now,; I expected to be asleep, since I was told to not arrive at her home until after 7:45am. I expected those assumptions to be true, but I am neither. Despite my small headache and lack of sleep, I feel pretty content. I haven't felt anything but slightly depressed, in a very long time, so I guess this indifferent mood is equivalent to a normal person being happy. In other words, the new permanent band gig has lifted my spirit in a way that makes me feel important…like I'm part of something special.

I remember back when we were in high school; our parents hated the fact that we had any ambitions that they didn't instill in us. Puck's mom hated the thought, but just swept it under the rug. Joe's mom only cared enough to bitch at him about it when she wasn't high on whatever she could get her hands on. My parents absolutely hated the band; they hated everything I did, nothing was good enough; I was a complete and utter disappointment to them. There was a time when I felt that they loved me because despite how they constantly disapproved of me, they didn't kick me out. I thought that it was because they didn't want to lose me, until my father told me that it was because someone had to give me a daily reminder of what a failure I am. I ran away…several times, but they always found me; and always made my life worse for it. Out of all of our parents, Lauren's were actually somewhat supportive, for a while, until we started playing at parties, which led to more band practices, which lead to Lauren slacking off on her school work…I remember the day they kicked her out; I was letting her sneak into my house for months, before my parents found out. From that day on, she stayed with Puck, whose mother didn't really mind, until she found out they were having sex…by that time, we were already about to graduate, so there was no point in her putting Joe through the same living situation. We had planned on living together, as a band, best friends, family, and even traveling the country, getting fake IDs and playing in bars, hoping to get discovered. That was three years ago; we never travelled, but we got fake IDs and managed to earn gigs at bars, but we either didn't have the right style for the crowd or we just blew our chances by getting drunk before sets, getting into fights with crowd members, or just not being good enough.

Now…Now, all that has changed. We found a place with a nice blend of personality and character; and they actually enjoy our slightly untamed style and the way the crowd reacts to us…most importantly, they think we're good enough.

A smile spreads across my face and I shift into drive, just as my work phone blares through the quiet, non-stereo-working truck. I'm a bit startled, but I figure it's my boss, wanting updates on the yard progress.

I blindly answer, with a chipper, "Fabray speaking," while keeping my eyes on the grungy street.

"Where are you?" A voice asks that certainly does not belong to my boss.

"Rachel?" I ask, pulling the phone away from my ear to look at the number on the screen. It's the same one from last night; it's probably her cell number.

"_Where are you_, Quinn?" She asks, again, this time much more angrily.

I furrow my brow and glance at the time; it's only 7:10am…I typically get there at 7am, but she told me to arrive later, so-

"Answer me!" She shouts into the phone, causing me to wince and let out a small whimper.

"I – You – I thought you said to get there after you left. It's not time yet, so I-"

"That's not what I asked you…_Where are you_?" She's annoyed and I can hear a whisper of desperate need in her voice...Why does she want to know so bad?

"I'm in my truck; I'm driving," I answer, hoping it doesn't sound like I'm being a smart-ass about it.

"Where? You just said that I told you not to show up until after I left, so why are you driving already? Are you alone? Who's with you? What's her name? You know, if you give her a ride home she's going to get the impression that you want something more than just a one-night-stand from her. Why didn't you just get her a cab? Do you want something more from her? You want a relationship or something?"

Suddenly, my head hurts a lot more. I pull over at the local market and rub at my forehead, trying to process everything she just said. I don't understand.

"Do you, Quinn? !" Her voice goes up a few octaves and I shut my eyes tightly at the sound.

"I'm alone…No one is with me." I slowly answer; not sure what exactly she wants to hear.

There's a brief silence on her end, but it's soon followed by a sigh, "Was someone with you?"

"What?" I ask unlocking my door and hopping out of the truck to enter the grocery market. "I don't know what you're getting at; no one was with me or is with me." Though my words are almost rudely blunt, my tone is anything but…I actually sound scared.

"So where is the slut you were with last night?" She questions in a way which makes her sound so sure of herself; like she knows for a fact that I had spent the night with some "slut."

Stepping into the store, the cashier greets me in a very giddy voice...She probably has coffee coursing through her veins; her peppiness is unsettling.

"Who's that? !" Rachel's voice rings out before I can answer the million other questions she's already asked me.

"I'm at the store; I'm going to get something to eat and then-"

"No," she cuts-in with her disapproval. "Get here, now…"

I stop my walking upon hearing the very distinct tone in her voice; it's strict, demanding, powerful…I gulp and feel a flutter in my chest.

"_Now, Quinn…_I'm not fucking around with you," she adds, before hanging up on me.

I quickly shove my phone in my coat pocket and run out of the store, with the happy cashier frowning as her only customer leaves.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

As soon as I pull up to the house, I see Finn walking toward his car, but upon seeing my truck he changes direction and jogs toward me. I hop out of the car and meet his at the bed of the truck. I lean against it and give him a small head nod.

"Hey," I greet with a bit of awkwardness.

"Dude, where were you last night?" He says, with his brow lowered and his mouth curved down. "You totally left me hanging, Fabray." He seems genuinely upset and it forces guilt down my throat.

"Sorry," I say, pushing the guilt back up. "I went home to shower and change and some stuff came up...important stuff." He twists his lips as if he doesn't believe me. "I had a go with the band to a meeting, we got a permanent gig, now." I half lie, and study his face, hoping it's a good enough excuse.

"Wow, congrats!" He says, shoving my shoulder, slamming me harder against the truck. He laughs, oblivious to how rough he is when showing affection.

"Thanks," I chuckle, unable to keep the smile off my face. It's nice to have someone be happy for me…to know I'm a part of something that others think is worthy of congratulations.

"That totally rocks! Did you celebrate or anything?" He asks, wriggling his eyebrows, suggestively.

I scoff, "Nothing too crazy, just had a beer or two with my bandmates." I say with a shrug and a grin, as his face lights up, like a lit bulb is floating above his head.

"Dude, we should go out and have a drink, tonight!" He suggests, very enthusiastically. "After last night, I could use a break from, you know who," he tosses a thumb over his shoulder, toward the house. "She was totally pissed off," he adds, shaking his head in remembrance.

"Why?" I ask, curious…and maybe a tad bit selfishly; was she mad because I didn't show up?

"I don't know," he says with a roll of his eyes. "I thought it was because you bailed on us, but she said she didn't wanna talk about it." The tall guy shrugs and runs a hand through his boyish haircut. "So, tonight? You wanna hang or what? You're like the only friend I got, besides the guys at work…and Rach hates them."

I shift awkwardly, and rub at my neck, "I don't know…"

"C'mon, Fabray! You owe me, please! I need to get out of the house for the night."

I look at his face and see genuine exhaustion…and not the good kind. Not the kind you feel when you're tired after spending the whole night having sex; no, it was the kind you feel when you're tired after spending the whole night NOT having sex. A selfish satisfaction comes over me upon seeing that look on his face, but another part of me feels terrible…like a backstabbing, two-faced liar. This guy considers me a friend, someone he can trust and relax with…and as soon as he turns his back, I'm making his wife writhe beneath me, moaning and screaming my name, while I do things to her that he probably hasn't done in a while. I may not get to use my whole body with her, but judging by his expression, I'm using more than he is.

I drop my hand from my neck and I force a smile, "Yeah, sure," I give-in, before my common sense comes around.

"Sweet!" He throws an arm around my shoulders and leans against the truck. "You're awesome, dude."

I chuckle and shake my head, "The band has a gig though, so if you don't mind hanging at the Cine Bar, then we're good."

He nods and rocks us side to side, "Yeah, dude, whatever. I just want to get outa-"

"Outa what?" Rachel's voice interrupts from the driveway, as she walks toward us, arms folded.

Finn removes his heavy arm from my shoulders and straightens up, "Outa…" he furrows his brow and avoids eye-contact with her. "I just want to get outa here…ya, know…sooner I get to work, sooner I can leave, right?" He laughs with no humor and turns to face me, giving me a "yikes" expression and mouthing that he'll text me later. He then spins back around on his heel and walks past his wife, quickly kissing the top of her head, as he jogs over to his BMW, jumps in, and takes off...without another word.

"What was that about?" She asks, when he disappears around the corner. Her arms are still folded over her torso, just below her breasts…her cleavage showing perfectly. "My eyes are up here, Quinn."

I blink and shake my head, before meeting her brown eyes; her right brow is raised, as she studies me with angry, confused, hurt, amused, playful, teasing eyes…they hold so much emotion; my heart pounds obnoxiously in my chest.

"Sorry…" I whisper, barely audible.

She steps closer. Her perfume tickles my nose and I close my eyes, briefly, taking in the beautiful scent. I open my eyes and see that her complex gaze is now, simply amused.

"When you're done sniffing me, I want you inside…" and with that, she heads back to front door of her home…their home. I watch her move in her work clothes; her legs flexing with each step and her toes peeking out of the tip of her high heeled shoes. Her hips…God, her hips…and that ass…I quickly snap out of my perverted thoughts and follow her, appreciating the way that her skirt hugs her perfect ass, as I walk a few steps behind her.

Once I step inside, she shuts the door and locks it…and just stares at me, completely stoic. I nervously stand before her, as she closes the gap between us and grabs my hand. Her touch is warm and soft and perfect. I sigh and relax instantly when she strokes my fingers with the tips of hers. There's something very soothing and strangely erotic about feeling her fingertips slide up and down, up and down, each of my fingers and my body is reacting quickly. I tear my eyes away from our hands and I look at her face; her lashes blanketing her eyes from view, as she focuses on our fingers. The corners of her lips are slightly curves up in a faint smile…It makes me smile. She strokes with more pressure, but it's only enough to tickle, so I curl my fingers when she strokes down and I uncurl them when she strokes up. It's a game of endurance, and she holds my trembling hand still by wrapping her other hand around my wrist. I whimper and try to pull my hand back, away from her playful touch, but she doesn't let me, so I just thread my fingers between hers and let our palms touch.

She looks up, unveiling her eyes and I fall a little harder for her just from hearing the hitch in her breath. I smile widely at her, not knowing how not to…I just love everything about this: her face, her hand, her hand in my hand, my hand holding her hand, her breath reacting to the amorous feeling of our hands being pressed against each other; I love it all…I love her.

Not wanting this moment to go to waste, I lift our hands up and kiss the back of hers, "You're beaut-"

"Don't!" She yanks her hand away from my lips and shoves me with her other hand. "You lied to me…You had me waiting all night for you!" Her voice is powerful; I can hear the disappointment loud and clear.

I whimper just as clearly and try to step toward her, needing to feel that wonderful feeling, again, but she steps back, shaking her head.

"I'm sor-"

"And don't say you're sorry, Quinn! Don't you dare say it!" She points her fingers at me, "Because you're not sorry! You didn't even call me back; you were just going to not show up until I left. You rather spend time with stupid, slutty women!"

"No!" I yell over her and move closer, only for her to shove me hard on my chest. I move forth, regardless of the bruise I'll get, when she's done hitting me in the same spot. "I wasn't with another woman, Rachel!"

"Don't lie to me!"

"I swear! Rachel, please," I wrap my arms around hers to get her to stop pushing me away. "Please believe me," I beg as she squirms and backs me up with her wild movements, until I'm against the door. "Rachel," I kiss the side of her head, as she shakes it from side to side, not believing a word I say. It hurts…more than the scars, more than seeing Finn's last name attached to hers, more than knowing that she'll never be mine, even if I'll always be hers. It hurts more because despite all those truths, the only thing I could give her was assurance…a trust that she could rely on, no matter how heavily…and now, I broke that one special thing.

"You were supposed to be different!" She mumbles, angrily against my shoulder. "Let me go! Get out! Get away from me, Quinn!"

"No!" I cry out and hold her tighter; I can't let her go.

"Yes!" She struggles against me, her head knocking my chin as twists around.

"No! Please…I'm so sorry, Rachel." My apology only gives her more strength to get away from me. "Rachel!" I whimper shamelessly, not being able to hold it in anymore. I can feel those words, again…those words that have been haunting me for days. I feel them rioting inside me, banging inside the chambers deep within my heart. They want to be acknowledged, they want to be heard, they want to be freed. I can't deny them…even if it means it'll imprison me further.

_Once she knows…_

"Please…" I whisper weakly against her head, "I can't…"

She'll use it against me; I'll lose what little control I have.

"Rachel, I'm yours; you know it's the truth. You know I'm yours. You know I…"

But isn't that what I want…My masochistic heart has no choice.

"I love you. I love you, Rachel…I love you." I feel the tears roll down my cheeks and soak into her hair. My breaths are loud and heavy, as my body weakens. The words take so much out of me, I'm practically leaning forward, my weight pressing against her, as my legs get wobbly. I try to steady myself, but she doesn't give me a chance. She easily pulls away from my limp body and I immediately fall to my knees. This is it. She's going to hurt me; she's going to laugh in my face…She'll laugh and tell me how pathetic I am for falling for her like a weak fool. She'll laugh and say she has a husband…a rich husband, a husband that can take her to fancy places and buy her fancy things, a husband that has a career and not some dirty job or a no-name band, a husband that doesn't have a criminal record, a husband that she isn't repulsed by, a husband that deserves her love…so why would she love me back.

I stare at the carpet and wait for it; I wait for her to say it all, but she doesn't say anything. She's quiet; the only sound in the air is my labored breath. I'm on the verge of a panic attack or a heart attack or some other embarrassing episode, yet all I want to do is just tell her, again…

"I love you, Rachel…so much. I can't tell you how I do…I just do. I love you." I look up at her and I catch her eyes with mine. They're glossed over and it breaks my heart.

"Prove it…" she whispers, barely loud enough for me to hear.

I furrow my brow and tilt my head, "What?" I ask, stupidly, not expecting those words.

"Prove it…Prove that you love me." She turns away from me and walks up the steps, slowly…shedding her clothes as she makes her way up.

I quickly drop my upper body, so I can crawl up on my hands and knees. There's no tint of shame on my cheeks this time, there's no embarrassment…I let my renewed arousal motivate me, as I watch the quickness of my knees, to make sure I don't bump them against the steps as I make my way up. I'm so focused that I don't notice that she has stopped, until my head bumps her bare shins. She's standing on the top step, not saying a word as I stare at her cute bare feet.

Without looking up at her, I lean my head a little lower and softly kiss the tops of her feet, starting at her toes, until I kiss up the front of her left leg. I keep my eyes closed, cherishing the fresh scent of bodywash on her skin. She's so soft, so smooth, so sweet; I nibble lightly on the inner side of her knee, where her skin is sensitive and tender. I hear her breath hitch, as her leg trembles. I smile against her flesh and I move in closer to her, letting my shoulders touch her legs as I nuzzle the back of her knee. She gasps and her knee buckles, I quickly bring my hands up around the back of her thighs to keep her from completely losing balance. I glance up at her and she's looking down at me with soft brown eyes.

_I love you._ I want to tell her, again, but I much rather prove it.

"You're going to make me late for work, Quinnie."

"I'll make it worth it," I quickly respond, feeling a surge of confidence course through me. It's something I never really felt around Rachel.

She giggles. It's cute, amusing, flirty, affectionate…It gives me hope.

"Oh yeah?" She asks, giving me her sexy questioning eyebrow look.

I move my head in the affirmative, "If you can handle it, that is."

She throws her head back and laughs, but not in a mocking way, in a delighted way. "You're cute when you're trying to be in control," she says, as she turns to walk to the bedroom, I stand up and follow her.

"And you're cute when you think I can't take it away from you," I comment, watching her beautiful ass, once again, as her hips sway with each step.

She turns around when we enter the room and she has a smirk on her face, "Is that a challenge?"

"Not really…It's more like…" I step toward her, my close proximity causing her to playfully retreat until she's forced to sit on the edge of the bed..."Taking candy from a baby…" I lower myself to my knees and part her legs, while I scoot my body between them…"A _spoiled_ baby."

She raises her eyebrow…and a certain appendage of mine. "Are you saying I'm spoiled?"

I only smirk and nod, trying to control myself and keep from lowering my head between her legs, "Very."

She responds by wrapping her legs around me and pulling my head up towards hers, kissing me deeply and desperately. I place my hands on her waist and knead her hips, as she starts to scoot back onto the bed, dragging me with her, until I'm on top.

"Take your uniform off," she mumbles against my open mouth.

I moan and roll off her, onto my back and unzip my jumpsuit and squirm around, eager to get my arms out of the sleeves. She sits up and reaches for my boots and starts to unlace them. I kick them off and she pulls my jumpsuit down until I'm in my underwear. I scramble back up on my knees, ready to get back to business, but she pushes me over and straddles me. I smile, thinking she's trying to play around with me, I grab her waist and try to roll her onto her back, but she won't let me.

"I'm playing with you," she says, seriously. "I better not find any marks on you that aren't mine. Got it?"

I gulp and nod, sensing the quick shift of her mood. A part of me prays that she finds something; even though I know she won't…She's the only one that touches me. I moan loudly, as she practically tears off my tank top and unfastens my bra faster than she ever has. I should be frightened, yet I can feel my erection straining against my briefs, trying to get to her naked pussy.

She takes a few seconds to look at my bare chest and torso; her eyes studying me like she's stuck in thought. I squirm under her intense gaze, causing her to shake her head and refocus on her task. Her hands reach down and hover over my body, before slowly closing in on me. The soft feel of her palms is soothing, as she runs them up and down, from my chest to between my breasts and down the middle of my stomach. It's a massage, a relaxing rub that my masochistic side wishes would turn into a nice scratching; but the part of me that wants to be loved is cherishing this moment.

Her hair lightly tickles my sides as she brings her face close to my stomach and examines a little scratch I got from her the first day I was here. She traces the line with her index finger and smirks, feeling satisfied that my upper body has only been claimed by her.

"Turn around," she instructs and I roll over so she can look at my back.

This new position scares me; I can't see what she's doing and it makes me twice as sensitive. She knows this, after all the times she blindfolded me…she ought to know what effect it has on me. "Is there a reason why you're nervous? Did you let some slut leave marks on you, Quinn?"

I shake my head and mumble a no into her pillows.

"No one can touch you like I can, Quinnie." I feel her lean against me, her breasts pressing against my bare back. "You love when I rake my nails down your back, don't you." Her breath wisps across my ear and I writhe beneath her, loving how her nails dig into my shoulder blades and burn a trail along my spine. "You love when I take control…" she continues, nipping at my neck, as she trails back up my sides. It's painfully pleasurable. I groan and wiggle, as my dick hardens against the mattress. "I admit, you're adorable when you're trying to intimidate me, but you're irresistible when you're squirming around for me," she giggles as she claws at my back and I whimper, knowing how much she craves it. It turns us both on. "Do you want to fuck me?" Her husky voice swirls around my head like a dirty secret that should only be acknowledged in private thoughts. "Do you, Quinnie? You want to fuck me, don't you?"

God, she's killing me. She wants me to die; my heart is beating ridiculously fast and the throbbing of my erection is just as…

"I know you're hard. I know you want to take me."

"Please…" I squeak, not really knowing what I'm begging for…to fuck her?

"Aw, Quinnie," she sucks my neck, making me wince at the feeling of blood clotting beneath my skin. "I love when you beg me."

"Please…" I say louder, and with more alertness. I don't want to fuck her. "No…I don't want to fuck you." I manage to blurt out, between hard, sharp bites and deep, long scratches.

"What?" Her mouth and hands tear away from my body and I breathe heavily against the bed. "I want to make love to you." It sounds unbelievably corny when I say it out loud; so corny, that my turn a bright red as soon as the words leave my lips.

She's quiet, not saying a word. I feel my dick soften, as the familiar feeling of rejection washes over me. "I'm sorry," I add after a long silence.

"Make it up to me…" she says, getting off me and letting me lower over on my back. "Tonight…Have dinner with me and my neighbors."

I sit up and start to dress, a frown forming on my face. "I can't."

"Why not?" She quickly snaps, getting off the bed and walking towards her dresser, "You planning on fucking some woman or what?" Her voice is cold and accusing.

"No," I say, feeling hurt by her assumption…I just told her I love her... "I love you."

She turns to look at me and her eyes are soft, emotional…"Stop saying that."

"No," I disobey, getting off the bed and slipping into my uniform, as she busies herself with finding a new work outfit. "I like this one," I say, walking over and pulling out an argyle sweater and a pleat ed skirt. My hold it up against her underwear-clad body and she looks into my eyes, brow furrowed.

"It'll look even better if you wear it with a smile," I add, teasingly…and she does; she smiles and takes the outfit from my hands and slipping it off the hangers. I zip her skirt for her as she pulls the fitting sweater over her head. "See…Beautiful." I wrap my arms around her waist, while she looks at herself in the mirror.

"I haven't worn this in forever…not since high school." A sweet blush colors her light brown cheeks and I can't help but kiss the warm skin. "Why can't you come to dinner?" She asks interrupting the moment.

I rest my chin on her shoulder and meet her eyes in the mirror. "I have a gig with the band, tonight. I can't miss it."

She doesn't answer, right away, but after a few seconds she nods half-heartedly and looks down at her feet. "Are you playing at the same bar?"

"Yeah, they signed us as their house band," I say, feeling a bit of pride rise up inside me.

She turns around to face me; the movement is quick and excited. "That's good, right?" Her eyes are wide and eager.

I nod and laugh, as a huge smile spreads across my face.

She gasps and bounces on her toes, wrapping her arms around my neck, "Congratulations, Quinnie!" Her voice is more like a giddy squeal, and part of it is muffled as she kisses my jaw. "I'm proud of you, baby."

My heart instantly flutters around in my chest, tickling my ribs in happy excitement. She called me _baby. _

"I have to come see you. I'll bring my neighbors; they'll love your band!" She kisses my jaw once more and quickly slips on some flats, "I'll meet you there…Don't tell Finn," she adds, kissing me a third time, then hurries out the door. I follow her, as she quickly pads down the stairs, picking up her clothes on the way, and tossing them up at me to dispose of. "Bye, baby!" she says with natural affection, before finally exiting and leaving me completely speechless, and oblivious to the fact that I've gotten myself into quite a predicament; but I can't seem to care, at the moment…All I care about, right now, is that she called me _baby._

**/END CHAPTER\**

****So all the characters will be back in the next chapter…It should be interesting ;) Let me know what you think; it really helps me figure out how to tie up any loose ends. Also, Quinn's criminal record will be brought to a **_**certain someone's**_** attention, very soon (like "next-chapter-soon"…maybe, don't hold me to it). **

**Anyway, thank you for being such patient dears, my Lovelies! See you next time :)**


	7. Chapter 7

****Hello, Lovelies! THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEWS; I'm kind of in love with all of you for continuing to come back to this story, with me. I'm well aware it's different and honestly a little fetish-y, but whatever floats the boat, right? Anyway, there are several stories that I am currently writing, each one is a little like my personal life…I guess, I vent via my stories, so I practically update stories according to my mood/daily experiences…hence the reason I updated this one, again, before I updated any of my others. I used update too much in that sentence. Sorry…on we go!**

**CHAPTER 7:**

"What the hell is wrong you, Q?" Puck sighs, face-palming and shaking his head. He's sitting on the edge of my bed, with his elbows on his knees, as I change into my regular clothes after showering.

"I wasn't thinking; she had me all flustered!" I explain, pulling my shirt over my head then retrieving my towel to dry my damp hair.

"Flustered?" He looks up from his hunched over position and stares at me with a disgusted expression.

"Don't look at me like that," I say with my brow lowered and my jaw tight.

"Flustered?" He reiterates. "What does that even mean?" His hand rubs at his forehead, before smoothing over his Mohawk. "What are you? Some puppy dog?" He scoffs, "You sicken me; you know that, Q?"

I throw my wet towel at him, "Screw you. You weren't there; you wouldn't know, so cut me some slack, alright!"

"Well, then enlighten me, Quinnie," he puts on this wide-eyed goofy lovey dovey face, "Tell me alllll about the wonderful rainbow, la-la land you and her live in," his face drops into a serious one, "Because I really fail to see the reason why you continue going back there. I mean, is her pussy some holy temple? Does she let you do all kinds of pervy, freaky shit or something?"

I scrunch my face up, "What the fuck are you talking about?" I shake my head and walk to my closet to look for some shoes.

"I mean, is it more than a little dominatrix foreplay that gets you going?"

I turn around and see him with an eyebrow raised, smirking at me. "What exactly are you implying?"

He sighs and rolls his eyes, "You into that poo and pee fetish or something? 'Cause it would make sense, she's probably the only one you can go to who will let you pee on her or something," he shrugs.

"What the! You're disgusting! What the fuck makes you think I'm into that?" I'm completely offended and thoroughly repulsed by the imagery in my head.

He just laughs, holding his stomach and falling back onto my bed. "I'm just asking," he chuckles and starts to calm down. "I mean, really, Q…This is some serious shit, alright. They're both going to be there and you can't be distracted. Any mistake we make can cost us our contract; not to mention when Lauren finds out she's going to kick your ass."

"Then don't tell her…I'll just say, that I didn't know they were going to show up," I slip my feet into my shoes and crouch down to tie them. "I mean, she doesn't have to know…"

"Yeah, but I don't like lying to her."

I finish tying my shoes and stand; he's staring up at the ceiling, his brow furrowed and a small pout on his face.

"I know you don't…Look, if she suspects and asks you if I invited them, you don't have to cover for me…Okay?" I walk over and sit next to him, as he props himself up on his elbows. "I don't want to make you choose between us," I add, giving him a look of understanding. It's clear to me that he still cares for her...probably more so than she does. It's sweet; they're secretly pining after each other, and they both know it, but they won't do anything about it. I'm not sure why; maybe they think they're no good for each other.

Puck sits back up and smacks my back, as if to say 'Hey, thanks for supporting my secret need to please my ex-girlfriend, even if it means getting your ass kicked.'

I nod and elbow him, in understanding, as a comfortable silence fills the room, along with our thoughts.

"So, how do you plan on dealing with the two of 'em?" Puck asks, getting up and walking out to the kitchen.

I follow him and sigh, "I don't know…It's not like I can cancel on them. Finn would be pissed and Rachel…She'd probably show up anyway to make sure I wasn't lying."

Puck laughs at that, spitting out stale bread crumbs.

I scowl, "What's so funny?"

"HA! Since when do you care if Finn is pissed or not?"

My head tilts to the side on its own accord. Why do I care? "I don't know. I mean…He's kind of a cool guy. He considers me a friend," I answer, not making eye-contact with my friend.

"But you're fucking, but not really fucking, his wife…" his tone is judgmental and the "are you serious?" look on his face isn't helping the guilt go away.

"I know!" I plop into one of the crappy folding chairs and lean my head against my forearms, on the kitchen table.

"Then why the hell are you being all fuckin' buddy-buddy with the guy, Q? That's fucked up."

"I know, alright!" I exclaim, lifting my head and slamming my fist on the table. "I just...He keeps inviting himself and guilt-tripping me into hanging out with him and I can't say no to him because I'm standing there thinking: Geez, I'm having an affair with his wife, the least I can do is say yes to whatever favors he asks."

"You're fuckin' twisted, you know that?" Puck says shaking his head. "As if you didn't have enough shit on your plate, you gotta add 'being best friends with your secret lover's husband' to the dinner table." He shakes his head some more, "You need to stop whatever it is you're doing, Q. You should just focus on work, your therapy, and the band…POSITIVE shit, ya know? Not all this homewrecker crap you're doing."

"I'm not wrecking anyone's home!" I snap, quick to defend myself, "I can't wreck something that was already wrecked to begin with…Their marriage is a joke. They have nothing in common; they both told me that they get fed up with the other and-"

"So what? That's their business! You're no fuckin' marriage counselor, Q. You think you're doing them a favor? You think Finn's gonna thank you when he finds out what you and Rachel have been doing behind his back? Because he's gonna find out, Q; shit like this always comes back to bite the guilty in the ass!"

"Quit yelling at me! I know, alright!"

"You keep saying that, but I don't think you _really_ know, Q!" He pulls out the chair across from me and settles into it, focusing intently on me. "You're my best bud…I'm just looking out for you. You can't get mad at me for trying to save you from all this bullshit."

I look at him and nod a small nod, enough of a movement for him to see that I get it. "I don't know what I'm doing, anymore. Sometimes, I just want to get away from it all. I want to wake and not think about her, I want to fall asleep and not dream about her…It's like she's inside of me, tearing me apart and stitching me back up, until I'm tailored to live for her every movement, word, breath. I'm her prisoner and she controls me from the inside."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Stockholm Syndrome."

"What?" Joe asks, as we carry the equipment into the empty bar, while Puck and Lauren are outside arguing about who forgot to pack the extension cord.

I chuckle to myself. I get it now…"Nothing. I was just thinking out loud." I answer, wanting to keep the conversation light...Might as well cherish the peace before the "unexpected guests" show-up.

Joe's curious voice interrupts my thoughts, "And why are you thinking about Stockholm Syndrome?" He glances at me as he starts plugging in the amps.

"No reason," I quickly reply. Damn, I forgot that Joe was the smart one of my three friends. He knows all about this stuff.

He shrugs and focuses on untangling some cords, as I sigh in relief and begin tuning the guitars. It's quiet and we can faintly hear Puck and Lauren outside, calling each other stupid.

I smile, "They're both stupid, if you ask me."

Joe laughs and nods, his dreads swaying against the sides of his face, "I was thinking the same thing!"

Isn't it obvious? We laugh at the irony, as we continue our tasks.

"Hey, Quinn?" He asks, setting down the knotted cords and sitting on his butt to get comfortable. I follow suit, but keep tuning Puck's off-key guitar.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think that you'll ever get over her?" I can feel him looking at me; I lift my head to give him my attention, but he quickly looks down at the cords. "You deserve better."

"I don't think so," I answer, feeling distracted by the replaying of this morning's interaction. I see the look on her face when I confessed my love to her, the excitement in my chest when she called me "_baby_." Then the guilt and insecurities quickly follow.

"You don't think that you'll get over her or that you deserve better?" He questions, a bit confused by the mixture of emotion on my face.

"Both."

He frowns, "Oh."

It's quiet, again, but it's a heavy silence. The mood has changed and I can almost hear Joe's thoughts over the bickering going on outside.

"Why do you ask?" I finally wonder out loud. "I know you're all worried about the situation I'm in, but-"

"I care about you, Quinn. You're like a sister to me…You and Lauren and Puck; you're all like the family I never had." His voice cracks and he frowns, trying to reign in his emotions. "I just don't want to see you get hurt…In a bad way, at least. I know you kind of like getting hurt," he adds with a teasing smirk.

He's not one to joke around too much, unless he's trying to cover up his sentimental side. I know, this is really bothering him; he's always been the more sensitive one, even if he's learnt to bottle it up like the rest of us heartless bastards.

I humor him with a smile, "Asshole," I flick a guitar pick at him, which lands in his hair, causing him to whip his dreads from side to side, trying to shake it out. We laugh until Lauren and Puck enter the bar, taking swipes at each other.

"I told you I packed the cord!" Puck exclaims, fending off Lauren's smack to his head.

"Doesn't matter if you don't even remember where you put it," she replies rolling her eyes and shoving him lightly, before she makes her way over to the stage. "He put it in the glove compartment," she tells us, shaking her head.

"Figures; I hear Puck always had trouble with putting things in the right place," Joe snickers.

"HA! BURN!" I laugh and fist-bump Joe, who looks all too pleased with his witty comment. Lauren just smirks and tries to reel in her amusement.

"Pfft, please! I'm a fuckin' sex shark!"

The three of us laugh out loud at that. "Yeah, right!" Lauren says, folding over against the stage in her fit of giggles.

"I am!" Puck exclaims, pouting and blushing at Lauren's reaction.

"Awww! Look, Lauren. You made the lil' sex shark sad," I tease and Lauren turns and sees Puck's red cheeks…She laughs harder.

"Screw you guys!" He eyes me, as if to remind me that I'm in no position to make fun of him, not when he knows that I accidently invited both Rachel and Finn, tonight. I look away and busy myself with the guitars, again.

Lauren finally calms down and wipes her eyes, before looking at her phone. "We got about an hour before the crowd starts to come in, so let's hurry and get everything set-up."

Twenty minutes later, we're sitting at the bar and having a drink with a few regular customers. They're all talking about work stuff and I nod at the right times. In truth, I'm not really paying much attention; my mind is elsewhere, trying to figure out a game plan for tonight's sure-to-be fiasco.

I'm about to take another sip of my beer when my work phone vibrates in my pocket. I quickly pull it out and see that I have a text from a number I don't recognize. I flip open the phone and read the message:

**hey its finn. just got off work. ill b there in an hr.**

I save the number and look up at the group to the side of me. They don't notice me on my phone, so I take a few moments to think of a reply. Should I tell him not to come by? I can't…I don't know why, but I'd feel guilty if I bailed on him again. My thumb traces over the buttons, as I argue with myself.

_Who cares if I bail on him again? He's nobody to me; I should spend the night with Rachel. She's the one I really want to be here to see me play, tonight…not her husband._

I nod, as if to show that I've convinced myself, as I start to reply back:

**Actually, the gig was cancelled, sorr**

"Heyyy," a soft whisper tickles my ear and I quickly snap my phone shut, immediately recognizing the voice. Her leans her front against my back, as I tremble on my bar stool and my eyes flutter shut; her touch is heaven.

"Q?" Puck butts-in. I open my eyes and see the group staring at me. "What's going on?" He asks, looking at me then to Rachel, then to me again.

"I uh…" I straighten my back when I see Lauren shooting daggers at Rachel and I. She's pissed and I don't think lying to her will help…She'll kick my ass, even if she did believe my lie; anything to get her anger out. She sets her beer down and gets up from her stool, her eyes boring holes into Rachel, who doesn't look threatened. They glare at each other; Lauren scoffs at the smaller brunette and steps a few steps toward us; everyone else watches. Rachel drops her hands from around my waist and gives Lauren a very bitchy look, as she sizes her up.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Lauren asks; her voice full of hate.

"I don't see how that's any of your business," Rachel sasses and takes a step closer to Lauren, proving that she's not afraid of her.

"You're fucking kidding me, right?" Lauren laughs and looks at the rest of the group; they awkwardly chuckle along, not sure where this is going. "You got a lot of nerve showing your face around here, bitch."

"Fuck you!" Rachel quickly replies, shoving Lauren with both hands.

"LAUREN!" I yell out, jumping between her and Rachel. Puck quickly snaps out of it and pulls Lauren away, just in time to keep her from pummeling me with her fists.

"Are you serious, Quinn? !" Lauren shouts, feeling hurt and angry that I'm defending Rachel instead of my best friend. I frown…I can't help it; I love her.

"Just give us a minute…Please?" I beg, as I direct Rachel toward the backstage room.

"Can you believe her? !" I hear Lauren ask Puck, before I shut the door behind me.

"I can't believe you're friends with someone like her," Rachel comments, smoothing out her clothes. Her delicate hands run over her skirt, then to her top. She readjusts her bra and my eyes dart to her breasts. "Are you listening to me, Quinn?" Rachel asks, with an incredulous look on her face.

"Yeah, I mean of course."

"How can you stand her? She's rude!"

"Rachel, she's my friend. She's just upset," I explain, not liking the way she's talking about Lauren. "She wasn't expecting-"

"Expecting what? It's obvious that she hates me, Quinn. I didn't do anything to her and she already wants to beat me up like some barbaric playground bully. Is she one of your sluts or something?"

"WHAT? No!" I twist my face up at the thought of hooking up with Lauren; she's like a sister to me. "That's like incest!"

Rachel rolls her eyes at my dramatics, "Then what's her problem? And that funny-haired guy? What's his deal? That's the third time that he's looked at me like he wants to stab me to death. I don't know what I did!"

"Nothing! Rachel, you didn't do anything. They just like to have opinions when it comes to my relationships; don't worry about them; okay?" I sit on the couch and pull her down onto my lap, slipping my hands up the front of her shirt. Her boobs are amazing.

"Stop it, Quinn!" She pulls my hands out and smacks them. "I don't want your friends to hate me."

I can see that she's completely serious, right now. Guilty automatically fills me up; I hate that they hate her because I had to go and let my emotions get the better of me. They didn't care until it was painfully obvious that I was falling for the married woman. It's my fault.

"I'll talk to them…I promise." I lean my head on her chest, my face resting on her soft breasts. "You look amazing, by the way." I add, mumbling into her cleavage, before kissing the exposed flesh.

She scratches along my neck and down between my shoulder blades. It stings a little more than usual, since there are unhealed scratches there, from this morning. I groan and feel the excitement build up in my groin.

She giggles and looks down at the fresh marks on my skin. "I get wet seeing those red marks on you, knowing I'll leave an impression on you…Like something to hold you over until next time." She pushes my head back, away from her chest and touches the hickey she gave me this morning. "Mmm," she lifts her gaze up, enough to catch my eyes. "That's hot."

The crotch of my pants feels extremely tight and my whole body shudders when she not-so-subtly grinds on my lap.

"RachEL!" I squeak and blush profusely when she finds it endearing. "Can I ask you a question?"

She nods and slips a playful hand under my shirt, finding my trembles amusing.

"i…I oh my god," I whimper and nearly unload in my pants when she pinches one of my nipples through my bra. She flicks her nail over it, making it hard from the sensation.

"What were you saying, baby?"

There it is…_baby_…I smile stupidly, upon hearing it and my hands find her ass under her skirt. I squeeze her full cheeks, loving how the warm flesh gets warmer in my hands. Her fingers drift lower and tease the "R" scar on my stomach. I squirm, causing our crotches to rub against each other and I'm reminded of the question I want to ask.

"Rach..." I ask; her name blending into a throaty groan. "Will you ever…" she nips at the spot below my ear and I know she's trying to shut me up. "Will you ever let me-"

"God! You taste so good," she moans, licking and sucking on my neck. I whimper out a shy thank you and I'm momentarily distracted by her talented tongue. "I could suck on you, _all day, _baby." She bites down extremely hard on my neck and groans loudly.

I moan at her words and at the warm feeling spreading in my crotch area. _Fuck!_

She pulls away, her eyes looking into mine intently.

"I'm sorry!" I blurt out, already knowing that she'll find my lack of control disgusting. "I don't know what happened! I'm usually really good at not…" I trail off and feel horribly embarrassed. "I'm sorry," I lift her off me and hurry out of the room and quickly turning to enter the bathroom to clean myself off. I lock myself in a stall and look down at my pants; I'm still bulging out and I shake my head in disbelief. How can I jizz my pants to the point of soaking the front of my crotch and still be fucking hard. I pull my pants and briefs down, but only see a little pre-cum…definitely not enough to soak my pants like that. I wipe myself, anyway and pull my pants back up, dabbing at the wet spot with some toilet paper.

"How the hell did I get cum on my-"

"Quinn?"

"Rachel?" I unlock my stall and see her standing shyly by the sink. I rush over to her and hold her hands in mine, "What's wrong?"

"I want to apologize…"

"For what?" I ask, confused.

She looks down at my crotch and at the wet spot…

"Oh…" I reply and stare at the wall, as it dawns on me. She totally came all over my pants. A smirk spreads across my face and she shoves me, lightly, on my shoulder.

"Don't look so smug," she pouts and it makes me smile even more. "Stop, Quinnie!" She giggles and hides her face behind her hands.

I laugh and pull her hands down, pressing her against the sink and kissing her red cheeks. "You're adorable when you blush."

"I'm so embarrassed!" She whines, burying her face against my chest. I wrap my arms around her waist and hold her.

"Don't be…It's kinda sexy. I mean, it's not your fault; your body can't control itself around me," I tease, laughing as I say it because she immediately smacks my shoulders and chest, playfully.

"Shut up!" She pouts, again. "You're being a jerk."

I smile and kiss her nose. "I'm just teasing," I chuckle and kiss her pouty lips. Our body language, our playful banter; it's all so natural, instinctive, beautiful...like we've been together for years.

I know I'm looking at her adoringly and it probably looks creepy, but I can't help it…I love her.

"I love you." I say, breaking the momentary silence. She shifts in my arms and my first thought is that she's going to tell me to stop saying that, like she did this morning, but instead she just stares at me. I furrow my brow and look away, "It's okay; I know you don't love me. I just want you to know that I love you, regardless of the fact that you'll never feel the same." I shake my head at my stupid rambling and I decide to distract from the awkwardness. I step to the side, grabbing a paper towel and wetting it with the sink water, before wiping the front of my pants.

"Show it to me…" she says, almost in a whisper.

I look up at her, confused as to why she wants me to show her the stain, again. I move my hands out of the way and let her eyes fall over it. "It's just a stain, Rachel; don't worry about it. I can get it off."

She shakes her head.

"Yes, I can. Look, it's all gone, now. It just needs to dry and no one will notice a thing. I promise." I explain throwing the paper towel in the trash.

She shakes her head, again. "I'm not talking about that…I want you to show me your dick." The words fall out of her mouth like nothing…like she said that she wanted a sandwich, not that she wants me to whip my dick out, for her to look at.

I blush instantly and my hands unconsciously fall over the front of my pants. I can't look her in the eye; I can't even look at her face.

"Quinn…I want to see it." She steps closer and reaches for my waist. I step back and fold over slightly.

"Wait! I…" I gulp and feel my face flush brighter when I see her raising an eyebrow at me.

She comes closer and I back up until I'm cornered. I cover my crotch area and whimper. I don't know why I'm so nervous. I don't know why I think she's playing a trick on me. I don't know why she's looking at me with that face.

"Don't be scared…I just want to get used to-"

A loud buzzing has us both jumping at its sudden intrusion. I quickly shove my hand in my pocket and dig out my phone…Fucking Finn.

"Who is it?" Rachel asks, looking annoyed and impatient.

"No one…Just my boss." I lie and forward the call to voicemail. "Uh, why don't we go back outside?" I grab her arm and lead her to the door. I stick my head out and see that the bar is already full of people.

I quickly scan the room and breathe a sigh of relief when I don't see Finn. Maybe he called to cancel? I can only hope.

"What are you doing?" Rachel asks, from behind me, trying to pry open the door all the way. "Let's go back to the room for some fun," she reaches her hand around my waist and brushes her palm over my crotch.

"Shit!" I curse from the unexpected sensation and the unexpected guest that just spotted me. I quickly duck my head back in and close the door, locking it from the inside. "Fuck! Fuck!" I pull away from Rachel and start walking about the bathroom, pacing the floor and swearing under my breath.

"Quinn, why are you acting like this?" She doesn't sound amused, at all.

"I gotta get you out of here," I blurt out, without really thinking.

"What are you talking about?" She asks, unlocking the door.

"No!" I rush over to lock it, again, but someone already pushes it open.

"Santana!" Rachel exclaims, hugging the woman. "Glad you could make it! Where's Brittany?"

"Saving us a table. What are you doing in here?" She asks Rachel, but is staring at me with a suspicious, disappointed look.

Rachel giggles nervously at the awkward tension, "Just using the toilet. I was just about to leave, actually. C'mon, let's go!" She urges the Latina, trying to shoo her out the door.

"Why was the door locked?" Her eyes finally shift to Rachel, who plays off the incident well. "It wasn't locked. It was just jammed. This bar is obviously in need of some serious repairs."

If Ms. Lopez didn't already know of the affair, she'd easily believe Rachel's lie; and if Rachel knew that her friendly neighbor was my therapist, she wouldn't be so calm, right now.

"Excuse me, ladies." I squeak out, squeezing past them, as if they are random people…people who aren't my therapist and lover. I'll let Rachel deal with lying to her friend…I got enough lies of my own.

Once outside, I see Puck waving me over from the side of the stage and I quickly make my way to him.

"We're on in five and I just saw you new best friend walk in," he lifts his chin in the direction of the tall guy ordering at the bar, with some blonde chick.

"What's he doing? Who's that blonde girl?" I ask, feeling a surge of anger bubble inside of me. How dare he cheat on Rachel!

"I don't know, but it seems like they know each other," Puck comments. "Look, you gotta keep him away from Rachel, if you don't want this to blow up in your face, so…Good luck with that." He pats my back and shakes his head.

"You gotta help me. Please, Puck!" I plead, feeling a panic attack coming. "I can't! My thera – I'm fucked!"

"Whoa, calm down, Q," Puck grabs my shoulders and steadies me. "What are you talking about?"

"My therapist! She's Rachel's friend…her goddamn neighbor! She knows! She's gonna tell Rachel how fucked up I am!"

"Quinn, relax! Just relax, she's not going to say anything…It's against the law for therapists to talk about the fucked up shit they hear from their patients. All you gotta worry about is singing. Okay? Don't worry about anything else."

"What if they find each other?" I ask, looking at Finn talk to the blonde…That fucking bastard. I eye the bathroom just in time to see Rachel and Ms. Lopez walk out. Santana quickly spots me in the corner and glares; Rachel follows behind her and winks at me from across the way. A bit of relief comes over me; they both must have lied to each other about knowing me, but I immediately tense up, again when I see Ms. Lopez throw her arm around the tall blonde next to Finn, who doesn't notice because he's messing with his phone.

"Whoa! Your therapist is a lesbian!" Puck shouts, highly intrigued.

"Yeah, I see that," I reply with a roll of my eyes. "Finn must've been keeping her company while-"

My phone vibrates and I pull it out to see a text from Finn:

**dude. the wife is here 2. act cool.**

I waste no time, replying, as I watch Rachel and Finn smile awkwardly at each other, before following Ms. Lopez and her girlfriend.

**Will do. **

"See, just relax!" Puck smiles, "Everything worked out fine; now let's get this started!" He says, pushing me up the stage to join Lauren and Joe. Lauren doesn't even bother looking at me; and Joe just gives me a small, half-hearted smile, as the crowd gets excited.

Puck points out at the crowd, "One! Two! Three!"

I close my eyes and feel the music vibrate off the walls around us. The stage floor rumbles beneath, shooting energy into me through the bottoms of my feet and up my legs and through my stomach, out into my arms and I can feel the melodies and the drumming flood my head. I can do this…

"_**You got the tenderness that I been searchin' for." **_I start and my friends back me up on the main line,

"_**Ohhh, I want some more." **_I turn to either side of me and see Joe and Puck nodding along to the music. I look behind me and see Lauren focused on her drums. I turn back around, feeling a little bummed. _**"You got sweet lips like I did never tastes before/ Ohhh, I want some more/ Everythin' you've got is just what I've always wanted/ Right down to a T/ Nothin' about you that don't please me." **_I glance across the crowd, but purposely avoid the table I know is occupied by three people that are tangled up in my web of lies. I could easily be distracted by one look from them, especially Rachel…especially since every word I'm singing is exactly how me and my dick feel about her and her pussy. _**"I'm just a kid and you're a walkin' candy store/ Ohhh, I want some more." **_I step back and let Joe and Puck take center, as they work the crowd with the instrumental section. I take the time to stand next to Lauren, as she starts pounding on her drums harder, as I approach. She glares at me, but doesn't miss a beat, as she dogs me and casts her eyes back out into the crowd, before I can mouth that I'm sorry.

I sigh and walk back to the mic and continue the song, _**"You got the tenderness that I been searchin' for/ Ohhh, I want some more, Yeah/ You got sweet lips like I did never taste before/ Ohhh, I want some more." **_ I move around the stage and see the same girl from our last gig, the hand-sy one; the one that Finn thinks I spent the night with…instead of his wife. I avert my eyes and act as if I don't see her, going back to my original spot. _**"Everythin' you've got is just what I've always wanted/ Right down to a T/ Nothin' about you that don't please me." **_ I furrow my brow and start walking around, again when the girl makes her way over, right in front of me like she wants to feel like I'm singing to her. Puck notices and smirks. I roll my eyes at him and finish out the song. _**"I'm just a kid and you're a walking candy store/ Ohhh, I want some more." **_

The crowd cheers and applauds; it's a good feeling, knowing that they like us. I glance over at their table and see Santana whispering into her girlfriend's ear, while Finn gives me a thumbs-up and Rachel smiles at me…though neither spouse seems interested in the other.

"How you all doing, tonight?" I ask, the rowdy crowd, but my eyes stay fixed on one person. Her lips are curved up deliciously and I wish I could kick everyone out and have sex with her on the stage. Fuck it; let them watch…Let them see how good I can please her…love her...

The music kicks in and I automatically smile, as I grip the mic and look at Rachel.

"_**I don't want you to be no slave/ I don't want you to work all day/ I don't want you to be true…/ I just want to make love to you." **_I move across the stage when I hear the stalker screaming right below me, even over the music and the crowd whistling at the women grinding on anything they can get their bodies on. I try to keep my eyes on Rachel, but it's hard when Finn is suddenly trying to get her to dance with him. He's standing and pulling her out of her chair; she goes unwilling. Ms. Lopez gives me a weird look and her girlfriend waves at me. I furrow my brow and turn away to see Finn doing an awkward humping movement behind Rachel, who sways against him, but stares at me exactly how she does whenever she wants to seduce me into letting her tie me up. _**"I don't want you to wash my clothes/ I don't want you to keep my home/ I don't want your money, too/ I just want to make love to you."**_

She turns away from me and faces Finn, her husband, the man she keeps after, the man she cooks and cleans for and she sways her hips and wraps her arms around his neck. I feel my face redden; from heat or jealousy…I don't know. Finn is grinning and looking all around him like he wants the whole bar to see the how beautiful and sexy his wife is…She looks back over her shoulder at me and winks, before spinning around to face me, again. I can see her ass grinding against him and it kills me…It absolutely kills me. I quickly turn away at focus on my bandmates; Puck is giving me an expression of sympathy. It angers me; it makes my insides churn and my skin hot. I drop to my knees in front of my blonde stalker and she beams in excitement. _**"Well, I can see by the way that you switch and walk/ And I can tell by the way that you baby talk/ And I know by the way that you treat your man/ I wanna love you, baby; it's a cryin' shame." **_ I let the girl pull on my collar and I let her kiss my jaw. I let her do it, just like how she lets Finn dry hump her. It makes me sick…I look down at the blonde; she's smiling at me like a girl in love…She thinks I'm singing to her. It makes me sick… _**"I don't want you to bake my bread/ I don't want you to make my bed/ I don't want you 'cause I'm sad and blue/ I just want to make love to you."**_

As soon as the song ends, Puck calls for a short intermission because some guy shouts that he bought us a round. We head to the bar and take our shots, chatting with the guy.

"You guys are pretty awesome. You really know how to work a crowd," he compliments and we all thank him. It's not long before the crazy blonde walks over, followed by Ms. Lopez. I sigh and prepare myself for these two nutcases.

"Hey, baby," the blonde coos, tracing a finger along my jaw. I instinctively pull back and force a smile…Being called "baby" by her doesn't have the same affect. "Body shot?" She asks, getting up on the bar, as the small group around us cheers. Ms. Lopez watches with crossed arms.

"I don't know," I say, chuckling nervously.

"Aww, c'mon!" several people groan out at my reluctance.  
>"You're a rockstar, ain't cha?" The guy who bought us a round challenges. "This young lady wants you to take a body shot…Rockstars don't turn that down!" He teases, making the group cheer in agreement.<p>

The girl lifts her shirt for the bartender to pep her, as he hands me a shot. Talk about peer pressure.

"C'mon , Q!" Puck whispers in my ear, "Don't be a pussy; you're making us look bad." He elbows my ribs and I pushes me toward the half nude girl.

I sigh, curse under my breath, and take one for the team. The group around us roars and it's hilarious, how easily it is to rile up this crowd. I spin around and raise my arms like I just conquered the world, everyone cheers. My friends and I laugh and they pat my back for being a good sport, even Lauren seems to have forgiven me. My smile is even bigger when the girl sits up and starts sucking on my sensitive neck, but I quickly drop my stupid grin when I barely catch Rachel walking back into the crowd, followed by Santana and her girlfriend…Finn gives me a thumbs-up as he walks over.

"Dude, you're totally a pimp!"

Puck snorts at Finn's comment. Finn turns to introduce himself.

"I'm Finn." He says, offering his hand to my three friends…Only Joe shakes his hand…awkwardly.

The blonde is still sitting on the bar, holding me like a koala strapped to my back. I'd be completely annoyed if she wasn't tonguing the back of my neck…In truth, it's kind of gross and sloppy, but it feels pretty good. "I'm working on his yard," I add, as if my friends aren't already clued in on my mess of a life.

"Oh, by the way, great job on the work so far. Rachel loved the dock." Finn says, nudging my shoulder with his fist. The blonde practically growls at him.

I blush…from the compliment or this girl's possessiveness, I don't know. "It's not done, yet. I still have to add the railing and then coat it, so…" I trail off when the girl starts stroking my back. I blush even more…Geez, she knows what she's doing.

Finn wriggles his eyebrows at me when he notices the serene look on my face; my friends just laugh. I divert my eyes to the crowd to avoid the pervy looks from them…Just in time to see Rachel and her neighbors exit the bar.

"I think your friends left," Lauren comments to Finn. He looks in the direction of the entrance and he shrugs.

"Better for me. I can finally have fun, right!" He laughs and Puck can't help but appreciate Finn's enthusiasm.

"I hear that, bro!" Puck exclaims, fist-bumping the taller guy. "Somebody get this guy some shots!" He shouts and all of a sudden all is good, again…except, this girl is still on me like a leech and Rachel left…with my goddamn therapist, who looked like she wanted to destroy me.

****Alright, so my goal for this chapter was 5,000 words…I got 6,570 (not including the author's notes) YAY! Anyway, I set-up some stuff in this chapter that will continue into the next one…like Rachel wanting to see Quinn's "junk" (because she never has before), also Puck and Lauren's relationship, Rachel wanting Quinn's friends to like her, Quinn's stalker lol, and of course what happens with Santana (we'll learn more about why she's so against Faberry), also I promise Quinn's past will come to light next chapter (this time you can hold me to it!) **

**Thanks for stopping by, Lovelies! Hope to see you for Chapter 8!**

**p.s. songs in order are i want some more by dan auerbach and i just want to make love to you by radio moscow cover. both are posted to my tumblr loveisforlovelies**


	8. Chapter 8

****Hello, Lovelies! You're still here? Marvelous! Me too; and I have some more for you…**

**CHAPTER 8:**

There's a buzzing…

"Ughh, my head," I groan and lift my face off whatever unfamiliar surface it's resting on. The buzzing is persistent, too persistent to be a hangover headache. I open my eyes and…

"Fuckin' shit! Oh my God!" I jump, or rather roll, off the couch and land on someone else.

"What the!" I know it's Joe when I get a mouthful of his dreads. "Quinn?"

"Ahh!" I jump up and get to my feet, straightening out my disheveled clothes.

"You okay? What happened?" He asks, groggily, but concerned, as he looks around to find where the buzzing is coming from. "What's that noise?"

I feel like vomiting when I look at the person on the couch…the person I was snuggled against.

"Is it coming from him?" Joe asks, pointing at Finn's jacket pocket. "Damn, he's out cold."

That's an understatement…I'd think he was dead, if he wasn't currently soaking his own shoulder with his own salvia. Frankly, it's atrocious and-

"Oh my G- Gaaahackk!" I barely pull my drool-stained fingers away from my hair, in time to puke into my hands.

"What the Fuck!" Joe screams, doing a slightly drunk version of a crab-walk, in order to avoid the splatter of the vomit that can't hit in my hand-bucket.

I run over to the kitchen sink and express my disgust of this whole situation, by performing a rendition of Linda Blair from the Exorcist. Hunching over the sink, I turn on the water and let it run over my hands, with my head dropped…the wet strands brush past my nose and I get a whiff of Finn's drool, which smells like morning breath and everything he ate and drank last night...Needless to say, I puke some more and in my desperate need to not yak my intestines out, I stick my head under the sink and wash my hair out with dishwashing liquid.

"Are you okay?" Joe asks, grabbing dish towels and soaking them as I scrub at my head. The citrus-lime smell fills the area.

"Yeah," I mumble, before he disappears with the wet rags.

I rinse my mouth and soapy hair out then grab a clean dishtowel to dry my hair over the sink. As soon as I turn off the water, I hear the buzzing, again.

"How can he sleep through that?" Joe questions, as he cleans up the last of the puke I left on the carpet.

"Sorry about that; here, let me toss it," I offer, but he jumps back and away with the offensive vomit rags.

"No way, I know from experience that smelling or even seeing your own puke makes you puke all over, again," he says with a smirk.

"Thanks, Joe."

"No worries," he says from the kitchen and then returns with washed hands and stands next to me…"So, should we wake him?"

"Fuck! Work!" I blurt out in a panic, as I pat my pockets down in a hurry to find my work cell.

Joe laughs, "Relax, Quinn…It's Saturday!"

I turn and look at him, then I flip open my phone and see the date. "Oh thank fucking God!" I sigh in much needed relief.

He chuckles, again and shakes his head, "So should we wake him? It's probably Rachel calling him, right?"

As soon as he says her name, the buzzing stops…We look at each other with curious faces. He breaks into a smile. "That was kinda creep-"

"Finn!" A loud voice interrupts, from the other side of the apartment door…accompanied with a rapid knocking. "Open this door! Finn!"

"Fuck! What the fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" My heart pounds in my chest, in time with her knocking.

"What do we do?" Joe asks, slightly freaked out. "I'm just gonna wake him!" He blurts, reaching over to shake him awake.

I pull his arms back, before he can get to the sleeping giant. "No! Not yet!" I say in a hushed voice.

"Who's there? Are you the boy with the Rasta hair? Open the door!"

Joe looks pale and conflicted, as he shuffles between me, Finn, and the door.

"Just wait," I whisper to him. "I gotta – I gotta," I do some shuffling of my own in my disarray. I pat myself down, self-consciously and start to pick up the beer bottles off the floor. Joe quickly starts helping me, not really knowing what else to do.

"Gimmie a minute!" He calls out to Rachel, as we dump the bottles into the recycle bin.

"I will not give you another minute! My _supposed_ husband is in there!" She answers, impatiently.

My jealousy kicks in, upon hearing her refer to Finn as her husband. I mean, technically, he is…It just…It still hurts to hear it.

Joe stumbles toward the door, but I pull him back with one hand, and use the other to smooth down my mostly dry hair.

"How do I look?" I ask him, shaking myself out; trembling like I'm about to go on a blind date.

He furrows his brows, as if he's silently questioning my sanity.

"Ugh, nevermind! Just open the door," I say, directing him to it with a starting push. He smiles at me, amused at my loser-ness; then composes himself, as he unlocks and opens the door.

"Good Morn-" he starts, but is stopped abruptly by Rachel, as she marches in. I barely escape her view by ducking into my room, in another panic. What the hell is wrong with me? ! She's here for her _husband_, not me. I shake my head and decide to just stay here in my room and eavesdrop.

I hear a pair of footsteps, walking about on the carpet…then around the cheap linoleum floor of the kitchen. I hear cupboards and drawers open and close.

"Um, he's…right there," I hear Joe say, confused and a bit intimidated. "I mean, you can't miss him; he's right ther-"

"I know where he is, you…What's your name? This is hardly a place to live, if there's no food. What do you guys eat." Rachel asks, suddenly stopping her movements.

"Um, my name is Joseph, but everyone just calls me Joe..."

"You live here?"

"No. My friends do…Quinn and-"

"Is she here, Joseph?"

"Quinn?"

"Yes, Quinn. Is she here?"

"I-um…I'm not-She's…I thought you came to get your husband?"

I feel my heart-rate pick up, again, as I hear her sigh.

"That's not the point…Do you know if she's here or not?...Please," she adds, sounding much more civil. Great…Joe'll fall for it. He's a nice guy like that.

"Um, I think she's still sleeping," he answers, a bit reluctantly. "But I don't think she wants to be disturbed!"

I hear her footsteps fall onto the carpet, again, and they sound closer with each movement. I quickly back away from my partially closed door and dive under my blankets, hoping she'll back off once she sees me sleeping…except there's one problem…There's someone else in my bed. Lying completely under the blanket is that stalker chick…passed out and half undressed. I drape myself over half her body to cover her, and hide the rest of her body with my pillows.

I hear my door creak open, just as I stick my head out, so she doesn't have to lift the covers to see if it's me under here. I cross my fingers beneath the blanket, hoping and praying that I don't get caught with another girl in my bed.

"I just need to…Don't wake Finn, please," she tells Joe, as she softly pads toward the bed. I'm finding it extremely difficult to remain calm, especially when I hear Joe walk back to the living room to give her time…and especially when I feel my side of the bed dip, as she slowly sits on the edge, her back against the headboard. My head is resting against her thigh; and I nearly jump up when I feel her hands around my neck. She's going to kill me! Oh wait…Oh…That's nice.

I hear her hum, amused, as she caresses my skin and lifts my head onto her lap. Her touch is so soft that I almost forget the dangerous predicament I'm in. One wrong move and this chick under me can wake up and ruin everything.

"You're so pretty," Rachel whispers, as she pets my "sleeping" head. "My pretty baby," she strokes my ear lobes and I have to fight the urge to smile and nuzzle my face against her warm body.

This is wonderful, I think to myself. She thinks I'm sleeping, so she's saying things to me that she'd never say to my face…at least not when she's hiding behind her sadist ways.

"I'm so mad at you, though…" she instinctively turns her strokes to small tugs on my ears and I move my head, uncomfortably. "I hate when you disobey me, baby." She abandons my ears and starts scratching the sides of my neck. It's not hard enough first, so I scrunch up my shoulders and try not to move too much, in case I wake up the other woman in my bed.

"But how can I stay angry at you…not with a face like this, so cute and sweet." She strokes my cheeks and I allow myself to enjoy this moment, by smiling a convincible sleeping smile. God, this tiny woman is turning me into a sap; I'm loving her gentle touch and the way she's talking to me…I become putty in her hands. I have no control over the purring sound that vibrates in my throat when she massages my scalp. I wish I could pull her under the covers and snuggle…yes, snuggle…but the stalker I'm hiding kills that thought when she reminds me of her presence, by shifting in her passed out state. I have to play her movement off by shifting around, as well, so Rachel doesn't get suspicious.

"If things were different; I'd be so much happier," she whispers and drags her fingers through my hair, down to my neck. "I wouldn't have to worry about you, so much. I wouldn't stay up at night wondering if you're with someone else, or if you go to bed with an empty stomach. You'd _really _be mine and I'd be able to fall asleep happy…with the one I lov-"

"What are you doing?"

FUCKING GODDAMN IT! I curse loudly in my head at the intrusion. I'm going to kill Puck; I swear.

"Nothing!" Rachel pushes my head off her lap, quickly, as she jumps to her feet and backs away from my bed.

The movement is so sudden and rough that I make an act of waking up from my pretend sleep. "Mmhmm?" I lift my head off the mattress and look groggily at her. She's blushing, profusely and glancing between me and the soon-to-be dead man standing in my doorway, with his arms crossed.

"I have to go," she rushes out in a matter-of-fact tone. Her eyes study me for a few seconds, as I act slightly disoriented from my fake sleep, before she turns and hurries out of my room, so fast that Puck barely has time to move out of the way to avoid a collision.

Puck gives me a look of confusion; I give him a full-on death glare.

"Get up, Finn!" I hear Rachel shout from the living room. "We're leaving…NOW."

There's a sleepy, frustrated sigh that follows and the sound of feet dragging on the carpet. I slip out of my bed and take three giant leaps to my doorway, shoving Puck out of the way…enough to stick my head out and see Rachel shaking Joe's hand.

"Thank you for being so nice, Joseph," she says, "Hopefully, we meet again…Under better circumstances, of course," she adds, before releasing his hand, so she can direct Finn towards the exit. The taller guy gives a tired, half-assed goodbye wave to Joe, before leaving the apartment. Rachel doesn't immediately follow; instead she looks over her shoulder to eye my bedroom…She's surprised to see me watching from the doorway. She blushes all over, again and purses her lips, as if to keep herself from saying something, then turns back around and walks out, closing the door behind her.

"What the fuck was that?" Puck asks, not wasting any time with his accusatory tone.

I slowly turn to face him, with a scowl on my face, and shove him in his chest. "What the fuck was that? What the fuck was up with you interrupting us!" I shout. "She was about to…" I pause to control my voice, which has risen to a shrill-like level.

"I know, dude. I know," Puck says, rubbing his chest with one hand and holding the other up, in a surrendering gesture. "I heard her before I walked in."

"What are you guys talking about?" Joe asks, walking over, cautiously. He knows how things can get out of control, quickly, when Puck and I argue.

"Then why did you walk in? !" I ask, pushing him again.

He shoves back, "BECAUSE! Her fucking husband was in the living room…on our couch!"

"SO! Who fucking cares? !" I yell back, shoving him roughly with both hands, until he's up against the hallway wall.

"You should care!" He replies, grabbing my shoulder and trying to block my fists with his other hand.

"Guys! Knock it off!" Joe shouts, but is ignored.

"She doesn't care about him! Why should I?" I growl, folding over to avoid Puck's attempt to hit my stomach. "She loves me! You heard her, Puck! You know she was about to say it!"

"She married!"

"Stop it, you guys! Lauren!" I hear Joe yell for our other friend, when Puck rams me so hard, we both tumble into my bedroom, landing on the floor. I squirm out from under him and manage to get on top and land a few hits to his midsection.

"Get off me!"

"Fuck you!"

"What the Hell is going on?" I hear Lauren say, before I feel her pull me off Puck, who gets up off the floor, holding his stomach. Where the Hell did she come from. She wasn't in the living room or in my room…the only other room belongs to-

Puck explodes, "Q's mad because she can't handle the truth!" He snaps, never taking his eyes off me. "She's never going to leave him, Q! Not for you…She wants security and shit! Money! A big house!"

"Shut the fuck up!" I yell over him and try to escape Lauren's death grip on my wrists. Why is she breaking up this fight? She never breaks up our fights.

"Where am I?" Another voice interrupts, before Puck can continue belittling me.

I immediately drop my head, knowing who it is. I know my friends are staring at her and in the process, judging me.

Puck scoffs, "That's exactly why Rachel will never leave Finn for you…"

I look up at him, ready to defend myself, to explain the truth, but he just shakes his head and walks out. When the apartment door opens and slams shut, Lauren releases me and follows Puck, without saying a word.

I know Joe is still standing behind me. He knows this isn't what it looks like. He knows I didn't sleep with this stalker, who is stupidly looking around as if the answers to all her stupid questions are written on my bedroom walls.

"I'll give you two a minute…" he finally says, and steps out, closing the door, to give us some privacy.

"Come back to bed," the girl beckons, "I didn't come here just to sleep."

I stare at her, blankly, going over everything that Rachel and Puck said. _If things were different, I'd be happier. IF things were different. __**IF**__. _

_She's MARRIED. She's never going to leave him. NOT FOR YOU. _

"C'mon," she calls to me, again; this time crawling over to the foot of the bed and pulling me into it, by my hand. "Don't be shy; I won't bite…_too hard._" She winks, then giggles against my neck, as I let her last comment drill into my head. I force my body to react to it, to let those last five words trick my body into thinking she's Rachel…and not some crazy chick. It doesn't work. I start to pull away, but she bites down on my throat and I groan, unable to suppress my appreciation for her sharp teeth. I can feel my mind arguing with my body and my heart trying to get a word in, from the side. I move to escape, again, but she fights back…it's a grip on my shoulder that isn't as strong as Rachel's…but it's enough to keep me. I only lift off her take my shirt off; she unbuckles my belt and unbuttons my jeans, while shimmying out of her panties.

I hate this; I hate this, so much…but this is the closest I'll ever get to Rachel.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Fabray," she calls me from her office doorway, holding my patient folder in her hands. I roll my eyes and get up out of the over-stuffed lobby chairs…designed to comfort the "disturbed"…and I brush past her, entering her domain. I plop into the usual spot…another ridiculously plush seat.

"You came…" she comments, looking me over, as she settles in her pedestal.

I scoff, "Twice...Once in her…Once on her."

Her face scrunches up, appalled, by my vulgarity. "That's completely immature, Qui – You know what? Forget it…I meant, you showed up; I'm surprised."

"Yeah, well…I don't want to go back, so…"

She nods, in understanding. "Look, Quinn. I can't say that I am confident about how things will go, from here on. I think our personal lives have crossed too many boundaries for us to successfully continue these sessions…without complications."

"What are you saying?" I ask, knowing exactly what she's getting at.

"I'm saying that I can't be your therapist, anymore. Not after what's happened these last few days. I'll be assigning you to another-"

"No!" I blurt, "I mean, I don't want another therapist. We've already talked about things. We've made progress…right? I mean, I can be better. I'll BE better; I promise. I won't talk back to you, anymore. I'll-"

"Quinn, I'm sorry, but-"

"Please! I need you!" I beg, getting up and running my hand through my hair, slightly panicking. "You know me AND Rachel. No one can help me like you can, please!"

She observes me and writes something down on her notepad. "I was wrong, Quinn."

"What?" I ask, confused. "I don't understand."

She sighs and sets down her pen and pad. "I was wrong about your relationship with Rachel."

I stare at her, waiting for her to continue. After a few seconds of silence... "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I was wrong; okay!" She rubs at her forehead and sighs, again. "After witnessing you two, last night…In the bathroom…The way she looks at you…The way she was behaving; doing anything to make you jealous and then getting upset when you were with that girl. You know, she was crying last night. I thought it was because Finn never showed up, but no…She fell asleep crying and she kept muttering _your name_ in her sleep. My girlfriend had to keep calming her down."

I don't say anything; I just sit back down on the couch and try to take everything in.

"She woke up around 5AM; she woke me and Brittany up and told us everything…_everything_, Quinn. She told me about the affair, the cheating, the way she really feels about you and Finn. She told us about how you're working on her yard…She said that you told her that you love her…and that she loves you, too."

"But…" I automatically say; my low self-esteem not allowing me to believe everything she's telling me.

Santana shakes her head at me, "No buts, Quinn…Rachel loves you, period."

"She was probably still drunk from-"

"She didn't drink last nigh-"

"Then she must have been sleep-deprived, talking nonsense or-"

"Quinn! She loves you! Why are you arguing about this? Isn't this what you wanted?"

"No! Yes! I mean…It doesn't change anything! She's still married. I don't a nice car or a fancy house or normal fucking genitals! She doesn't touch me there or let me cum. And I don't even have money or the chance to get a better job when I have a record because I'm a fuck-up! Why would she leave him for me? It's not going to happen…I need to stop praying that it will. I'm already trying to move on."

"What?" I guess it's her turn to be confused.

"I'm moving on…I was stupid for even thinking she could be mine."

"She loves yo-"

The sound of the door opening, interrupts her, and she stops talking. I don't…It's probably the check-in clerk walking in to make sure everything is okay, what with all the yelling going on.

"She's not going to love me when she finds out that I was locked up for assault and grand-theft auto…not to mention the fact that I need a therapist because I'm all kinds of fucked up in the head! She's not stupid; she's not going to leave him for someone worse…at least he has money and a dick that she isn't disgusted by!"

"Quinn?"

My eyes widen, as soon as I hear her voice from behind me. I continue staring at Ms. Lopez, unable to turn around and face the woman I try so hard to please…unable to turn around and see her so disappointed in me. My vision starts to blur and I can no longer see Ms. Lopez' shocked expression. I drop my head and gravity causes the unshed tears to slide down my cheeks. I quickly wipe them away and straighten up my back…trying to appear strong, when I know she's about to crush me.

"Quinn?"

"What?" I snap, my voice shaky, but angry.

"Is that everything?" She steps closer; I can feel her inches away from my back. "You have no more secrets?"

I shake my head, slowly… "No more secrets."

It's quiet for several long seconds; seconds I spend contemplating whether to run out of here and never look back. Seconds I spend with my eyes closed, head high, and heart palpitating so hard and fast I think I may have a heart attack if something doesn't happen soon.

"I need time…"

That's code for: _SEE YA; WOULDN'T WANT TO BE YA._

I shake my head…this time more deliberately. "Take all the time you need…I'm not going to hold my breath."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"I'm not stupid!" I shout, turning around to face her. "Why don't you go home to your big ol' fancy house to your perfect, rich husband and your shiny, expensive cars and live happily ever fucking after, pretending that he satisfies you whenever you take his tiny dick into your stuck-up puss-"

She slaps me before I can finish that rant; it stuns me for a second but I don't let it stop me. "You know how I know he's tiny? ! Because everything looks tiny compared to mine!" I almost laugh when her eyes widen, upon hearing my last comment, but I settle for smirking. "And you know how I know that? The girl I fucked this morning told me…She told me: Everything looks tiny compared to your dic-"

Another slap, this one much, much, much harder. It turns my head so hard that I lose balance and have to step back, in order to steady myself.

"I hate you!" She screams, reaching to hit me, again, but Ms. Lopez steps between us and keeps her from tearing up my face. "I hate you! I hate you! I fucking hate you!"

"Rachel, stop it!" Her friend orders, trying to grab hold of the smaller brunette's arms.

"She's not going to listen to you," I dryly chuckle. "Rachel Berry-_Hudson_ doesn't take orders from anyone…She only takes orders from her husband: Mr. Cook-and-Clean-for-Me."

"Quinn, shut up!" Ms. Lopez barks at me.

"Yeah, Quinn, shut up!" Rachel repeats. "Shut up, like the good little mutt you are!"

I laugh at that. "SUCK IT!" I crudely gesture, by thrusting my pelvis at her. "Oh nevermind; I already have a _big-mouthed_ girl at my place, waiting for me!"

"Arrrghhh!" Is all she says, as she desperately tries to get past Ms. Lopez, so she can get to me.

"Let her go, Lopez…" I say rolling my eyes and then looking off to the side, clearly not worried about what she'll do to me. "She's not going to do anything, but give me a couple of scratc – UMPH!"

I'm tackled to the ground and I feel a hand pressing down on my chest and another loosening my belt. I open my eyes and see Rachel on top of me…Angry, lustful, passionate, sensitive, affectionate, eyes looking into mine. Her hand slows down when she slips it into my unbuttoned and unzipped jeans.

"Oh no! Not here! Not now!" I hear Ms. Lopez shout, before Rachel is pulled off me. "You're not going to do anything like that in my office! Not even in your own private place…not until you two stop acting like psychos! I care about you both too much to just watch you ruin something that has potential to be great. I may have been unsupportive, before, but I was just looking out for you, Quinn. You're not just a patient to me. I consider you special…I didn't think Rachel felt the same way you did, so I wasn't going to let you waste your time…but I was wrong. Now, I'm not sure what to think of this relationship."

Rachel and I stare at each other…It's eerily familiar to our typical affairs…She's standing above me and I'm laying on the ground, looking up at her. The only difference is: there's a clear understanding of love being passed between our eyes.

**/END CHAPTER\**

****Alright, a lot happened in this chapter…I think I covered everything, I said I would. I didn't touch on each one as much as I would've liked, but I can always go back. Did anyone catch the Lauren/Puck AKA "LUCK?" hints I dropped? Also, Quinn's secret is out and so is Rachel's (her love confession). Hmm; what do you all think? **

**Thanks for stopping by, Lovelies!**


	9. Chapter 9

****Hello, Lovelies! Glad you enjoyed the last chapter; it was fun to write. I know some of you really liked the part with Quinn talking back to Rachel, for once…I did too :) Now, let's find out what happens next…**

**CHAPTER 9:**

"Are you serious?" His mouth is slightly open and his eyes are wide, "That's insane."

"I know, right! After that, Ms. Lopez just set us up for a session, in a few days." I explain to Joe as he listens in disbelief.

"Wait; so you and Rachel are gonna go to a session together?"

I nod, taking one of the burgers out of the bag of burgers I bought for us.

"Like couples therapy?" His voice comes out low and hushed, as if we're amongst a crowd of strangers.

I furrow my brow and take a bite of the burger. I didn't really think of it like that; I was too distracted by the throbbing ache in my groin to have realized what I signed myself up for.

"I guess so, yeah…" I say after swallowing and handing Joe his second burger. "I mean, I figured it was just going to be an hour or so of Ms. Lopez telling us to stop messing around and get our shit together before we fuck things up too bad."

He's quiet for a second and we both turn to look in the direction of my room, when we hear the door open.

"Hey, you're back," the girl smiles and walks toward us, with only one of my shirts and her underwear on. I can see Joe blush and try to focus on his burger, which he stuffs in his mouth, nervous. I would laugh at his shyness, but I can do that AFTER I get rid of this chick.

"Hey, you're up," I answer, with a fake smile, and a cringing grin when she plops herself down on my lap and takes a bite of the burger in my hand.

"Mm, yum," she mumbles around the food. I nod along as she looks at me pretends to find some relish on my mouth and licks it off. It takes all my strength to not toss her off my lap in annoyance.

"Sooo…Ca – Ash – Hil..a..ry?" I pathetically draw out her name, watching her face to get an indication of when I'm close to getting it right.

"Tiffany," she says with a roll of her eyes.

"Right! Well, Tina, I would-"

"Tiffany!" She deadpans and slaps my face, before getting up and going back to my room.

Joe gives me a look of shock and I wink at him, "All part of the plan, young grasshopper. All part of the plan…"

Twenty seconds later she returns, with her own clothes on and heads straight for the door, throwing my shirt at me as she walks by us on the couch.

"Thanks, Teresa!" I call to her, as she opens the door. She turns and flips me off, before slamming the door so hard I think she cracked the frame.

Joe immediately bursts out laughing at the whole scene and we enjoy the rest of our lunch uninterrupted.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It's not until close to four o'clock when Puck and Lauren enter the apartment. They glance at Joe and I and quickly move directly to Puck's room, closing and loudly locking the bedroom door behind them.

"Great…not _that, _again." Joe sighs, taking a sip of his beer. "How long do you think it'll last this time?"

I shrug and continue looking over the layouts for Rachel's yard.

"I give it two weeks, tops; and that's only because I know neither of them have gotten laid since their last dating episode."

I chuckle at his prediction because let's be honest…it's true. "You're probably right; they usually last as long as their patience allows them to. Lord knows they can't stand each other unless they're in bed."

Joe laughs and clanks his beer bottle against mine, "True! Well, I guess it's just you and me until Sid and Nancy decide to split, again."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," I say, flicking one of his dreads. He's about to reach and ruffle my hair when my phone goes off. I reach into my pocket and see that I got a text from Finn.

"Text from Finn," I tell Joe, who scrunches up his face when he hears the name. I open the message:

"_**Last nite was rad, man. 2 bad the wife was being a nag."**_

I huff and quickly respond back:

"_**Idk, she's pretty cool to me, but yeah…last night was fun."**_

"Can you believe this guy?" I ask Joe, who just shakes his head.

"It's his fault for not going home like he should've," he says in agreement. Finn's reply buzzes in:

"_**shes cool 2 u cuz ure a girl that likes girl so shes not worried about anything happening between us or u taking me 2 strip clubs like my guy friends."**_

"Wow…" Joe comments and shakes his head for the hundredth time. "You should tell him the real reason why she "likes" you," he says with a wink and a nudge. I smirk and type out a reply:

"_**Ha! I'm sure that's the reason why she likes me…"**_

"Ten bucks he doesn't catch on!" Joe laughs, holding his hand out to shake on it.

"Pfft! No way, he's an idiot; he won't be able to read between the lines!" We both chuckle at his expense, as I shove my phone back in my pocket. "C'mon, let's go to the store. I need to restock the fridge, now that I got paid. You're going to be here a lot from now on, anyway."

"Oh, yeah?" He questions with a raised brow and relief in his eyes.

"Hell yeah; I need you here if Pizes is going to be roaming around, being all lovey-dovey and-"

A loud thumping interrupts my sentence and Joe and I immediately stare at each other, horrified.

"Oh, God! I can't hear this!" Joe shrieks and covers his ears, as we both run out of the apartment, just in time to shut the door on the moaning.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

When, exactly, did our shopping cart begin to overflow with the cheapest canned food, generic cereal, frozen pizzas, tv dinners, about six loaves of bread, two tray boxes of Top Ramen, and anything else that was cheap enough to buy in bulk? I don't know, but we are having too much fun going up and down the aisles and tossing random snacks in the cart.

"Next is dairy!" Joe shouts, running ahead to grab a box of generic Go-Gurt, Yo-Squirts, and holding it to his chest… "Please?"

"You don't have to ask Joe," I take the box from him, set it back on the shelf, and grab the real Go-Gurt. "You're my little bro," I playfully tug on one of dreads and toss the yogurt in the cart.

"Thanks," he says with a big smile.

We add some milk, butter, sandwich cheese, and ice cream to the already massive pile of food. I even grab extra stuff for Puck and Lauren, because even though we're mad at each other, we'll get over it and nothing says "peace offering" like chocolate swirl ice cream.

"Fruit and vegetables, next," Joe says scrunching up his face, as we round the corner. I laugh at his expression and plan to just grab some apples and fresh green beans and head to the check-out lane.

I head toward the greens and accidently bump into a woman, who quickly turns to scold me, but stops and shuts her mouth as soon as she looks at me. We both furrow our brows, but for different reasons. She does because she looks like she's trying to remember if she knows me, and I do because I'm trying to figure out why she's staring at me like that.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bump you," I apologize and decide to just ignore the woman's intense gaze. "I just…" I reach around her to grab a bundle of greens, "…need one of these," I awkwardly chuckle and step back away from the woman, bumping into Joe in the process.

"What's going on?" He asks worried, not sure why this woman is still staring at me.

"Oh, gosh; how rude of me!" The woman gasps and snaps out of her daze. "You just look like-"

"Mom?"

I quickly unlock eye-contact with the older woman, as soon as I hear the voice.

"Rachel?" I look at the girl, surprised to hear her call this woman her mom. well, damn they do look alike.

"Rachel?" The woman turns and looks at her daughter, who's carrying some carrots in her hands, clearly meaning to put them in the woman's cart.

"Quinn," the younger brunette barely whispers. "What's going on, here?"

"Damn," Joe blurts out in the midst of the awkward situation.

"Uh…" I immediately blush and start to rub at my neck. No way this is happening! Why me? !

"Mom…This is Quinn…my landscaper," Rachel introduces then gestures toward Joe, "This is her friend, Joseph."

Joe holds out his hand for the woman to shake, since he is the only one not too entirely shocked to move. The woman mumbles a "nice to meet you, Joseph," but remains focused on me and unable to lift a hand to shake, due to the fact that she is gripping the handle bar of her shopping cart.

I tear my eyes away from the older woman and look at Rachel. She looks nervous and sweaty, as she avoids eye-contact and distracts herself by studying the food in my cart. Her brow furrows at the items and she looks back at me.

"Quinn, it's good that we bumped into each other…My mother is preparing a lovely dinner, tonight; you should come." Her voice is stern, the same tone she uses when she orders me around, asking a question, but not really asking…but ordering.

"Heh," Joe breathes nervously, sensing my panic mode. "Quinn is actually going to hang with me, toni-"

"You're invited, as well," Rachel deadpans.

A squeak comes out of my mouth, before I'm able to form any words. "I don't know…"

"You're coming," she says, practically throwing the carrots into her mother's basket. Her mom turns to glance at her angry daughter. "You owe me," she reminds me for bailing on the last dinner.

I notice Rachel give her mom a look, as they're silently communicating with each other. Then her mom refocuses on me, "Dinner is at eight."

"Okay?" I furrow my brow at the way that both daughter and mother are gaining up on me like this.

"Okay?" Rachel repeats, raising one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. Her eyes narrow in on me, as she steps forward and makes me tremble a little at how sexy she looks, "You mean yes, don't you?"

I gulp and manage to squeak out, "Yes."

"Good," she smirks and reaches up to tap the place over my heart, "See you later, Quinnie." She then turns around and walks away, leaving me with a tingle in my chest. Her mother gives me a look like she's impressed by the way that her daughter handled me like that, taking control so easily. I furrow my brow at her and watch as an amused smile dawns on her face and she pushes the cart in the direction that her daughter disappeared in.

"What the fuck just happened?" Joe mutters, just as my phone alerts me that I received a text.

I pull my phone out and tear my eyes away, from the corner that Rachel turned at, long enough to glance at the name on my screen…I do a double-take between my phone and the area she just left:

"_**Dress nicely; I want you to make a better impression on my mother. See you soon, baby."**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I thank God that I got paid, otherwise I would've tried to put together some outfit from the t-shirts and jeans I have stuffed in my drawers. After dropping off the food, and leaving a note for Puck and Lauren to help themselves to anything, Joe and I sped to the second-hand store and picked out some decent clothes. He found a nice black blazer, a plain white v-neck, and some dark blue jeans, that weren't ripped at the knee. I had to force him to change out of his sandals and into a pair of black tennis shoes. I was lucky to find simple white button up, a black vest, and a pair of nice black dress pants. I looked like a total prep, but it was better than wearing any of my band gig outfits or even my work uniform.

"Dude, do I really have to go in? I mean, she only invited me because I opened my big mouth and said you and me already had plans tonight."

"Joe…" I turn away from the rearview mirror I'm using to fix my shirt collar. "Please…I can't be in there alone," I plead and he sighs and nods.

"Okay, okay," he puts his dreads up in a ponytail and I try to comb down some of the shaggy tufts sticking out on top of my head.

"Do I look good enough?" I ask, feeling completely insecure. "I mean, do you think she'll like it? I look stupid, don't I?"

"You look fine," he says, placing a hand on my shoulder, "trust me."

I nod and take a deep breath before hopping out of the truck and heading towards the door, with Joe close behind me. I don't even have the time to lift my hand to knock, when the door opens and Rachel immediately throws herself at me, hugging me tightly.

"You came," she breathes into my ear and a smile instantly forms on my face.

I hug her back and kiss her cheek, "I didn't want to disappoint you, again," I whisper, honestly, against her neck. She pulls back enough to look at me and my breaths quicken upon seeing such a true, happy smile on her face. Her eyes trail down my body and back to my face.

"And you look so good, baby," she compliments and naturally licks her fingertips and smoothes down the unruly tufts of hair still sticking out. I automatically think back to this morning when I discovered that her husband's drool had dripped on my head and how disgusted I was, so repulsed that I puked. Now, here she is using her spit to tame my hair and all I feel is a fluttering in my stomach. "You look so cute," she spins me around by my shoulders to check me out, completely. "Perfect."

"You look amazing," I comment when I'm able to finally look away from her beautiful face and notice her outfit. "That dress…Your body is so-"

"So what?" Her mother deadpans, as she comes up behind Rachel, eyeing me a hawk.

I cough and step away from her daughter, out of respect, and try to think of something to say… "Healthy?" I awkwardly smile at her mom and look back at Rachel; "I can tell you eat your vegetables."

The younger Berry smirks at my lame cover, but ushers us in. She compliments Joe on his blazer and we all follow her mother into the dining area.

I'm puzzled when I don't see Finn anywhere. I turn to look at Joe, who looks equally confused about her husband's absence. The food is already laid out on the table and Rachel is already trying to seat us, so that she and her mother sit at the ends of the table and Joe and I on one side. Of course she takes the end that is next to me and she wastes no time slipping her shoe off and rubbing her soft foot up and down my leg. My eyes widen and I nearly jump out of my seat when her mother is looking at me like she knows what her daughter is doing under the table.

I thank Joe, my personal Jesus, for saving me by starting up so easy chit chat about how good the food smells and how lovely the home is.

"Thank you, Joseph," The older Berry says, the cooking is all me, but the home is the work of my daughter and her _loving husband_, Finn." Her eyes shift toward Rachel and me, as if she's trying to say something without actually saying it. Rachel's foot stops trailing up my leg, upon hearing the way her mom said "_loving husband_."

I feel my gut churn at the loss of contact and seeing how Rachel reacted so suddenly to the comment. When Joe continues on about I don't even know what, I mouth to Rachel "Where's Finn?"

"Work," she mouths back, when her mom is more focused on my friend.

I nod a little and decide to join the conversation…Rachel wants me to impress her mom…and I want to prove to her, Rachel, and myself that I'm good enough to be more than just her dirty secret.

Joe passes me the vegetables and I serve Rachel, before I serve myself and set the bowl down in the center of the table.

"So…_Quinn_, is it?" Her mother says suddenly, when the little chat she and Joe were having settles into silence.

I nod and smile, "It's a name that's been passed down throughout my family. It's actually short for Quentin. It was my great, great, great grandfather's name, so when my parents had me, they were going to name me Quentin, but then they found out-"

"Quinn? Why does that sound so familiar?" The woman has a pondering look on her face. I know she's just being dramatic to make Rachel and I sweat, being that we already know she suspects something. "And Rachel, you said you just met Quinn a few days ago?"

Rachel sets down her fork and nods; I can tell she's getting upset. I instinctively reach under the table and grasp the hand that is on her lap, gripping her cloth napkin, tightly. She hand instantly relaxes and I can see the rise and fall of her chest settle down to a smoother state.

"Uh huh, right." Her mom replies, "Rachel, may I speak with you in the kitchen, please," she says, already getting up and excusing herself from the table, before walking to the other room. Rachel watches her mom disappear from view and quickly leans in and gives me a short, but affectionate kiss on the lips.

"She saw a photo I had on my computer…I lied about it and said it must've been porn that Finn downloaded; and i forgot that she knows about me saying your name in bed with Finn." She blurts out in a hushed whisper.

"Wha?" I ask, feeling my heart pound rapidly in my chest. "What photo? How did she know about the name thing?" I shake my head, confused.

"It was of your face, mainly…and my boob," she whispers even more quietly. I nod, without hesitation, knowing exactly what picture she's talking about. I remember that little photo shoot like it was yesterday.

"And the name slip was brought up when Finn threw it in my face when we were arguing one of the times that my mother was visiting."

My blood instantly boils at the thought of Finn arguing with Rachel; then a pang of guilt washes over all that when I remember that it was probably my fault that he was yelling at her in the first place. Crap! Then I remember that text I sent to Finn, earlier. I didn't know that Rachel was telling the truth about the name slip…I thought she was just saying it to make me feel good or something. Now that I know that Finn obviously has suspected or still does that Rachel may be into girls, since she said "Quinn" in bed instead of his name…my last text sure won't help ease that belief. No wonder he never responded back…Maybe he isn't as stupid as he seems.

"I have to tell her, baby," she kisses my lips one more time and gets up to go to the kitchen. I can't let her go alone; I won't let her face her mother and take all the blame. I'm just as deserving of any disappointed looks or words that she will most likely have for Rachel. I give Joe a look and he instantly knows, he pats my back and I get up and follow the girl I love, with the sole intention of protecting her.

Just as I step into the kitchen, and just as her mother is about to start in on how immoral it is to be cheating on her husband…we hear the front door open and a confused and slightly irritated Finn walk into the house.

"Rachel! Why is Fabray's truck outside?" He yells, entering the dining area and seeing Joe sitting there by himself. "What the hell?" He says under his breath and stalks into the kitchen and sees Rachel, her mother, and me standing several feet apart from each other and we're all staring at him.

His eyes flash from Rachel to her mother, back to Rachel, then to me. He looks completely baffled, as he takes in my new clothes. He shakes his head in confusion and looks back at Rachel, noticing how nicely dressed she is.

"What's going on?" He finally manages to ask, his face contorting into an expression that screams "painful bowel movement."

"Nothing," Rachel's mother says, "Just having dinner. We're glad you're here, now you can join us," she says with a big smile and grabs another dining set.

"You didn't tell me that your mom and Fabray were coming over," Finn says, as he tries to read Rachel's stoic face.

"I did actually…I told you my mother was coming tonight…twice. Once yesterday and again this morning." Rachel says, suddenly sounding annoyed.

He scrunches his face up, as if he doesn't believe her.

"Maybe you were too hung over to understand," she adds with a roll of her eyes, as she follows her mom out of the kitchen.

I move to follow them, but Finn stops me, looking down at me with a tense glare. "Why are you here?"

"Joe and I bumped into them at the store and they invited us to have dinner…They insisted; I guess they felt bad when they saw all the cheap food in our basket." I add a chuckle to make it sound more innocent than it actually was.

"Why are you so dressed up?" He asks, more out of curiosity than suspicion.

"Rachel said her mom was a bit judgmental so she told me to wear something better than my normal clothes, otherwise she'd give me dirty looks all night." I answer with a shrug and feel like he's not buying it, until…

"Ha, yeah…she can be a total bitch," he whispers about his mother-in-law.

I smile and smack his shoulder, "I'm glad you're here, though…Maybe things will be less boring," I add and lead the way back to the dining room, with a fooled Finn behind me.

**/END CHAPTER\**

****Hope you enjoyed, Lovelies. I had a lot of Quinn/Joe in this because what can I say…I like these two. The next chapter won't pick up EXACTLY where this one left off, but the suspicions will continue…Also, next chapter will have more Faberry…that means smut :)**

**In the meantime, I'd like to know what you think about the characters so far, how do you feel about the ones that are suspicious (Shelby and Finn)? How do you think Faberry should handle the situation? Do you think Rachel is ready to move on from her unhappy marriage and get with unpredictable Quinn?**

**THANKS FOR STOPPING BY; SEE YOU SOON, LOVELIES!**


	10. Chapter 10

****Hello, my Lovelies! I thank you, from the bottom of my Faberry heart, for all the support you all have given this story. The reviews are wonderful to read, especially the analytical ones :) I love that some of you are able to dissect this fic and the characters' motives because I do try to keep these characters layered and complex; so thank you for taking the time to show me that you appreciate it :D because I appreciate/adore you! **

**Okay enough of that ;) …On we go…**

**CHAPTER 10:**

Shelby passes me the wine bottle and I have to stop myself from pouring some into Rachel's glass; I don't want to be obvious, now that I know Finn isn't completely clueless. I settle for pouring Joe and myself some, before handing it to Finn. He pours a glass and gives the bottle to Rachel, who practically grabs the bottle, pours some in her glass, then takes a long drink.

"So, Fabray is it?" Shelby asks, with a raised eyebrow. It reminds me of Rachel and I momentarily get stuck on the comparison, until Joe nudges me.

"Yes! It's a family name." I leave it at that because I don't want to have to lie any more than I already am; being in this house with my lover's husband and mother is really making the guilt build up inside. I take a sip of the wine and try to be discreet when I wipe the light sweat, on my forehead, on my shirt sleeve.

"Landscaping? That's your job?"

I look up from my lap to the woman and furrow my brow. I'm not sure what she's getting at, but it doesn't sound like she's impressed, at all.

Instead of getting defensive like I normally do, I nod and smile. "Yes, it's actually very therapeutic."

She narrows her eyes, "Is that so?"

I glance around at the rest of them, nervously, and then back at her, "Mmhm, the labor helps me take my mind off of stressful things, plus I get a good workout, so that's a plus, right." I add a chuckle and she just nods and moves her eyes toward Rachel.

"I'm sure you've been getting quite the workout, here. Am I right?"

Rachel nearly spits out the wine she sipped when her mother's eyes fell on her, and I quickly hand her the handkerchief tucked in my pants pocket, while Finn smacks her back. She shrugs him off and takes the rag from me and softly wipes her mouth.

I look back at her mother, she eyes me like a school teacher waiting for her worst student to do something unruly so she can kick them out faster than she can scribble an F on their test. If this is a test, I don't want to fail it. I don't want her mother to hate me, though I wouldn't blame her. She's obviously against her daughter fooling around behind her husband's back, so why wouldn't she be waiting and pressuring me to screw up. She probably wants to find out enough about me, so she can use it against me and tell Rachel that I'm a loser, so she'll stay with Finn. I can't fail this test; I'll show her that I'm not just some sex slave for her daughter. I love her.

"I do…" I finally answer with a confident tone. "And I am grateful and appreciative of _everything_ I do, here."

There's a silence and I can feel Joe tense up beside me. I can feel Rachel and Finn staring at me, as I keep eye-contact with Shelby. I'm not backing down.

"Really?" She questions. "How so?"

I smile a little, only because I know she's trying to ask me about my intentions with her daughter without being obvious.

"Well…I honestly didn't think that I would be able to do what I do if I wasn't given a chance. My boss hired me, knowing that I had a past, but saw that I was ready to put it behind me and strive for something better. Then Rachel…" I can't help but smile and pause when her name falls out of my mouth, "Rachel, she wanted the best of the best and she got me. I admit she was surprised and maybe a little unimpressed upon seeing me, but despite the fact that I'm a woman, she believes that I can give her what she wants, that I can do what a man can, and more." I hold my gaze with Shelby, trying to show her how serious I am, "And I don't plan on disappointing her."

It's quiet, again, but I ignore the awkwardness and keep my eyes on the older woman. She's not backing off, either. She gives me a look as if she's slowly deciding to ease up on me, a little, until…

"And what about Finn?"

"Hmm?" The question breaks my concentration and everyone else's, as they focus on us.

"Do you plan on disappointing him?"

"What?" I laugh, nervously, and turn to look at Joe, who awkwardly laughs along; Finn and Rachel join in shortly after. I take a big gulp from my glass and shake my head, avoiding meeting Shelby's eyes. "I uh…of course not. I mean, if I did…you know for some reason, it wouldn't be uh-"

"Personal?" Shelby suggests, knowing full well that this whole situation is personal…way too personal.

"Speaking of personal!" Rachel manages to shout over my heavy breathing. "I need to speak with you about something, Mother, privately." She then gets up and walks down the hall into one of the rooms on the first floor; her mom follows, but not before giving me a pointed look.

"Goddamn!" Finn blurts out then quickly lowers his voice, as he laughs into his hands. "She does not like you, at all! Not one bit!"

Joe mumbles, "Your wife does," under his breath, in my defense. I nudge him in his ribs, even though Finn didn't hear because he's chugging his wine.

"I mean, damn Fabray, what did you do to her?" He shakes his head and wipes his upper lip clean of the clear liquid.

I laugh to act like it doesn't bother me, to act like I don't care if Rachel's mom hates me…but it does bother me and I do care. "I guess I'm just too rough around the edges for her taste."

Finn pours himself some more wine and sits back into the couch he's sharing with Rachel, the one across from Joe and me. He takes a sip and dismisses my comment with a wave of his hand, "Don't worry about her, dude. She's just a stuck-up ol' lady."

"She doesn't look old," Joe comments. I quickly turn my head to look at him. "What? She's looks good…"

I smirk and shake my head; Finn laughs.

"Maybe you can get under her skirt and pull out those granny panties that are bunched up in her ass," her son-in-law jokes, slapping his own knee at his…I admit it…funny comment.

I genuinely laugh along with him, as Joe just blushes and sips his wine.

"What's so funny?" Rachel interrupts, as she and her mom walk back into the living room and sit down in their seats.

"Nothing, nothing…" Finn says, smiling at them both.

Rachel looks at me and I give her a small head shake, letting her know that it's best not to push it. When I look away from her, I'm shocked to see Shelby staring at me. God, what is her deal?

"Well, uh…This evening was great; thank you so much for inviting us over," I say to the Berry women.

"Yeah, thank you." Joe seconds.

"The food was great, too, Shelby," I add, hoping she doesn't think I'm trying to kiss her ass.

"Oh yeah, it was! You have such an amazing talent for cooking. Those little heaven-stuffed raviolis were perfect!" Joe adds.

I smile at Joe, then at Finn, who snickers, and Rachel, who looks horrified. Yes, Rachel…my friend is in love with your mom.

"Why thank you, Joe," Shelby says with a small smile.

"Joseph! You can call me Joseph…if you want."

"Well, Joseph, I'm glad you enjoyed the meal. I did make and fold the raviolis myself."

"You must be good with your hands." He says, almost dreamily.

Finn cracks up and Rachel smacks his arm. I elbow Joe's ribs and shake my head, disapprovingly, even though I'm on the verge of busting up laughing.

"Well, I'll show you two out!" Rachel exclaims, standing up to lead us to the front door.

"Bye, Shelby. I mean, goodnight…Sweet dreams!" Joe throws over his shoulder, as I shove him toward the door. I hand him over to Rachel, who lightly pushes him outside.

"I'm going to say bye to Finn and your mom, I'll be back." I walk back into the living room and see Finn still laughing and Shelby looking annoyed.

"Hey, sorry about my friend," I apologize to her, hoping she isn't embarrassed or anything. Finn manages to control himself long enough to hear her reply…

"He's sweet, but it's highly inappropriate…" She lifts her gaze from her glass and looks at me, "I'm sure you know what I mean."

I don't humor her with an answer; I just turn to look at Finn. "So, I'll see you Monday morning?"

"Yeah, sure," He raises his fist for me to bump. "I might stop by tomorrow to put up the railing on the deck. It won't take long, so-"

"No worries, I'll be at the office, anyway. I don't know if Rach will be, here, but the backyard will be unlocked."

I nod and bump his fist.

"Maybe you can hang out until I get home; we can have a beer or something."

"Cool, I'll just see you tomorrow then," I wave goodbye to them both and breathe a sigh of relief when I walk back to Rachel and Joe.

They're outside, talking about the band. They seem to be getting along, and that makes me happy.

I wrap my arms around Rachel, from behind and kiss the back of her head, as Joe goes on about the patience it takes to unknot cords. When he's done, Rachel says her goodbyes and turns around to give me a kiss. It's short-lived, but it's powerful; I want more.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" I ask, as Joe guards the door, on the look-out for Shelby or Finn.

"Nothing, just going to relax and enjoy my me-time, while Finn is at the office." She says softly, almost shyly.

"I'm planning on stopping by to work on the deck…Maybe if I finish early, I can take you out?" I ask, feeling stupid as soon as it comes out.

"On a date?" She questions, looking up at me, as I nod embarrassed. She smiles and kisses my lips, again. "We'll see…"

"Okay," I smile goofily, while she pats my cheek and says goodnight, before walking back into the house.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"You're almost done, already," she comments, in a just-woke-up voice. It's a bit husky and I smile before I turn around to face her. She's in a baby doll gown, her hair is a bit ruffled, but she looks beautiful and sexy.

"Hi," I put my drill down and wave to her. "Sorry, if I woke you."

She shakes her head, from the sliding door and smiles. "No, I just got up to make you breakfast when I heard you drilling."

"Oh," I nod and pick up the drill to nail the last few pieces of wood together. All the while, I know she's looking at me, smirking and taking the scene in. I know she likes to see me work, so I should be overjoyed by the way she's gawking, but I'm not. I'm too busy wondering if Finn got to share a bed with her, while she was wearing that…If she was even wearing that, at all, or if she just put it on out of decency. By the time I finish the railing, she's slipped off the shoulder straps of her little gown and she's drawing me to her with a finger gesture. I set the drill down, again and walk towards her.

"I'm so turned on, right now," she whispers, pulling me into her, but doesn't let me inside. I put my hands on the wall and the side of the sliding door, letting her put her hands on my chest. "Are you hot, baby?"

I nod and lean in to try and kiss her neck or jaw or whatever I can reach, but she pulls away.

"Say it, baby, tell me how hot you are?"

"I'm hot, very, very hot..." I try to kiss her, again; and she still moves back.

She giggles and pushes me back, playfully, "Good, now take your jumpsuit off. I want you in just your boxers and your wifebeater, by the time I get back."

I nod, obediently and watch her as she disappears from view. I don't waste any time taking my uniform off; and she didn't waste any time coming back…with leash and collar.

"Down, baby," she orders, twirling the collar on her finger. I look worriedly at her and she pouts and steps closer to me, grabbing my tank and pulling me inside the house, now that I'm out of my dirty uniform. "Be my good puppy," She kisses my slightly sweaty neck.

I whimper, when she pushes me down, by my shoulders and bends down to put the collar on me, then hooks on the leash. "Aww…" She traces over a dog tag hanging from my neck. It has a "Q" on it. "You look so cute," she coos and ruffles my hair, before tugging on the leash, as she starts to walk me upstairs.

We enter the bedroom. I see that the bed is messy and it reminds me of the bothersome thoughts plaguing me, earlier. "Rachel?"

"Puppies can't talk, Quinnie." She informs, while walking me straight to the bathroom. It's beautiful and huge and the shower can hold, at least four people. I don't even notice that she's tying my leash to the shower head, until she has to tug on it so she can knot it tighter.

"Rachel, wait, I have a question." I squeak out and she looks at my concerned face.

"Baby, I'm not going to hurt you…at least in a way that you don't want me to." She tests the leash and I can't even move enough to get away, if I wanted; I can only spin around. I reach up to try the knot, but she grabs my hands and ties them behind my back, with a pair of nylons.

"Wait, Rachel…I…Did you sleep with him, last night?" I blurt out as she tests my bounds.

She looks at me somewhat surprised. She scoffs and shakes her bed, "He slept in the guest room. Now, please don't talk about him…I don't want you to kill the mood."

I smile and feel relieved that she didn't have sex with him, especially since I think we're actually making progress.

"Do you still want to see my…um, you know?" I ask, as she tears my wifebeater off and takes off my bra and her gown, tossing both outside the shower.

She doesn't answer, only reaches behind me and turns the handle, so that the water pours down on us. It's cold for a few seconds, and I try to press against the shower wall, as much as possible to avoid the freezing water.

When it warms up, she presses herself against me and we both moan when we feel each other's breasts on our skin.

She rubs her body against mine, running her hands up and down my torso, massaging my abdomen. "Oh my God," I don't dare close my eyes when she's standing here before me, nude and soaking wet. I feel my boxers slip lower from all the water weighing them down. The fabric is clinging to me and with all he rubbing, I'm not shocked at how quickly I become excited. "Rachel, please," I whimper and I can feel her smile against my chest. I try to unravel the bounds on my wrists.

She kisses my wet skin and grabs a sponge and body wash. "Don't worry, this is mine," she says, smiling wider, as she squirts body wash onto the sponge and letting it soak in. "Now, I know you're ticklish, so I'm sorry if this is a little torturous." She winks and slides the raspy sponge, lightly, over my arms and down my sides and all around my midsection.

"No, no, no, no!" I jerk and squirm and try to spin around, only to squeal when she grabs onto my dick and shakes her head, while continuing the gentle scrub. She smiles, enjoying how she can control me like this, "You're mean," I manage to tell her, between my laughing.

"You like it!" She exclaims, laughing along with me, as she feels my erection grow in her hand. "How about your special place, hmm?" She traces her fingers over my hard private and I desperately try to thrust against her soft, teasing touch.

"Pleeeease!" I beg and tremble, "Let me take my boxers off."

"No…I'll do it for you." She slides the soft sponge down my body, as she lowers herself down on her knees. My eyes widen at the sight before me. The water is like silk running down my skin and seeing her kneeling in front of me is enough to have me practically poking her face.

She smirks, amused by my ecstatic expression, then tugs down my boxers, slowly…so slowly. "What are you hiding under, here, Quinnie."

"Oh, God," I groan when I feel the fabric brush against my throbbing appendage. Then with one hard tug she pulls them completely down. I feel it bob up and down, before it stops to stare at her. The water trickling on it, tickles and it only worsens when she lifts a hand and traces her fingertips over the sensitive head, gathering pre-come. "Fuck!" I squeak and try to hide the blush on my face. I'm embarrassed; I can't tell if she's disgusted or too horrified to move.

"It's beautiful…" She whispers and strokes her hand up and down. "Look at the way it curves up, a little bit; and it's big…You're at least eight inches; you have to be at least eight."

"This isn't happening," I mumble and lean my head back against the tile, waiting to wake up.

I jolt when I feel a tickling on the underside of my dick. She giggles and looks up at me, "It's ticklish just like you, Quinnie," she discovers as she sponges it.

I shut my eyes and try to fight the sensations, but when she touches the head, I cum hard…really hard…and I barely spin to the side to avoid shooting on her perfect body.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I wake up to someone shaking my shoulders. "Quinn, get up," her voice is eager and right in my ear. Opening my eyes, I see her face; her hair is damp and so is mine. I look around and find that we're in the bed. I can't help but smile and sigh, my heart beating happily in my chest. This is exactly how I imagined waking up with her.

"Thank you," I say, wrapping my arms around her, and kissing her face. She smiles, but pulls away from me, sitting up and running her hand through her hair.

"Finn's going to be home, soon."

I frown and try to pull her back down into the bed. "I was thinking that maybe we can finally have real sex…"

"Quinn," she starts and shakes her head, "No."

"We have enough time, if that's what you're worried about."

"No, Quinn. Now, please just get dressed," she answers, pulling me up and out of the bed, handing me my jumpsuit. I furrow my brow, confused by how she's acting.

"Okay, sorry…I didn't mean to be pushy about that," I apologize, feeling a bit embarrassed by free-balling in my uniform, since my boxers are still way too wet to wear.

"It's okay, baby," she gives me a small smile and kisses my cheek.

"Can I still take you out to lunch? Tomorrow?"

She looks away and furrows her brow, "My mother made a good point, last night…I have an image to maintain and I can't be seen outside of my circle."

I zip up my jumpsuit and grab her hand, as she walks around the bed, fixing the covers. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She looks at me and frowns, "Baby, don't take it like that. It's just business, my work is important…I need to stay with people who-"

"Who are like Finn?" I deadpan and let go of her hand. "You don't want to be seen with me, in public, not even because you're married and you're worried of getting caught…but because you're embarrassed to have lunch with me?"

"It's business, Quinn; what am I supposed to do? !"

"Be with me!" I shout back, "Be with me, Rachel. I know we're not in the same circle or group or whatever, but I love you and I know you love me, too…So just be with me. Let me take you to lunch, tomorrow…Please?" I grab a tissue from her bedside table, just to have something to mess with because my nerves have me rattled. I wait for her to answer me, but she's just standing there, looking contemplative. Meanwhile, I'm tearing the tissue to shreds in my hands. "Just give me a chance, Rachel…" I plead, looking down and realizing that I'm making a mess with the tissue. I spot the trash bin under the little table and I reach out to throw the pieces away… "I mean, when you haven't even been intimate with Finn in like what since we-" I stop when I glance down at the trash and see a condom inside. "What the…"

"Fucking shit, Quinn; you weren't supposed to see that!" Rachel exclaims, looking panicked.

I feel my face redden; I'm humiliated. "Is that why you don't want to have sex with me? You lied to me; you said you didn't have sex with him."

"Quinn, I can explain," She predictably says.

I shake my head, "You lied right to my face? Why would you do that?"

"Oh, like you're so perfect! You lied to me about being a criminal! I let you in my house!"

"It was the past; over a year has passed! This!" I point at the small condom in the trash bin, "This was less than twenty-four hours ago!"

"He's my husband, Quinn! He was drunk and needy, so I gave in just to get him to shut up about it!"

My heart hurts and my vision blurs, "Okay, well…now, I get it. He gets to fuck you because he's your golden-status, rich husband; but you won't let me take you to a sandwich shop because it'll ruin your image to be seen with someone who actually holds a door open for you, or hands you a napkin, or tells you that you're beautiful and that they love you. No, that would surely end your career! Why don't you just be honest with me, for once! The real reason why you don't want to be with me is because you love me, but you're ashamed of it. You're ashamed to love someone like me because I don't live up to your fancy standards."

"Quinn, wait!"

"Don't, Rachel," I shrug her off me and walk out, heading down to the front door. I ignore the tugging and pulling on my arms and uniform, as she cries. I turn around when I reach the door, "You might want to let me go, now. You don't want your neighbors to see you actually talking to your mutt of a landscaper."

"Stop it, Quinn," She tries to push me away from the door, but I hold onto the handle. I let her hit me and shove me against the wooden barrier.

"I'm going to open the door, Rachel…" I tell her, turning the handle and waiting for her to make her choice…to follow me outside or stay here in her perfect little world. I pull the door open and I start to walk out, listening, hoping, praying, that I hear her footsteps behind me or feel her hands on me, pulling me back to her, but I never do.

I get into my truck and turn and see that the front door is already closed.

**/END CHAPTER\**

****Whew, I don't know why this took me so long to write. Anyway, I hope this was entertaining. This chapter was kind of a switch-a-roo…with Rachel being the one begging in the end and Quinn having the backbone. Next chapter will bring back a suspicious Finn, the whole band, and Brittana. It should be an important one…if you know what I mean *hint hint***

**Thanks for stopping by! Let me know what you think, so far :)**


	11. Chapter 11

****Hello, Lovelies! I have a surprise for you…because you all are eager little beavers, asking me on via PM and tumblr for the next chapter, ASAP...I shall give you want you crave ;) **

**And to those who asked…YES, QUINN DID PASS OUT IN THE SHOWER…I think many of us would if we were in her position and loved Rachel as much as she does :)**

**CHAPTER 11:**

"Dude, have you heard from Lauren?"

I turn away from the layouts to see Puck standing by the hallway entrance, looking sleepy and worried. "No, I haven't. Why?"

He sighs and rubs a hand over his Mohawk. She was supposed to be here at 10pm and it's already 1am. She hasn't called me or anything. What are you doing up anyways?"

"Couldn't sleep. Maybe she mad at you or something? You're known for having that effect on her, after all."

He sucks his teeth and walks over to me and plops down on the couch. "I'm serious, Q. It's different this time…I can feel it, ya know. So, I don't get why she's avoiding me."

I smile at Puck's sad face; I'm glad he's actually admitting that he wants something real with Lauren. I know she wants the same and that she probably has a good reason as to why she didn't show up. "Hey, don't worry about it, man. I'm sure she's just out on one of her missions or – FUCK!"

"What? What is it? !" Puck asks, shaking me by my shoulders.

I shove him off me, "Calm down, it's just that I remembered that she said she was planning on helping some guys break into a check cashing place."

"And you didn't tell me!"

"It was a while back, I didn't really think she was gonna go through with it. I thought she would at least tell me before she did it! Who knows, I could be wrong!"

"Damn it! Did she tell you which one? Where is she?"

"I don't know, it was just a quick discussion, she didn't tell me any details or anything."

"Fuck! What if she got caught? ! I'm gonna lose her, right when I got her back!"

"Relax, Puck. Look, we'll go looking for her, alright. I'm sure she's fine; she's smart, she doesn't fuck up."

He nods, even though I can tell that he's panicking. I grab my keys and we walk over to the door, when suddenly Lauren walks in, grinning like a mad woman.

"Fucking hell, Laur!" Puck shouts, shoving me out of the way and hugging her tightly. She drops a brown paper bag that she's holding, as he leads her to his room.

"Whoa, whoa! Did you really hit that place?" I ask, shocked and excited.

"Yes!" Lauren laughs out, just before Puck slams his bedroom door shut.

"I'll be damned…" I pick up the bag and instantly know that she made out with more than her expected cut. It weighs way more than 10,000. I peek inside and gasp when I see that there's, at least, 15,000 in it.

"Oh my God…Goodbye shitty apartment!" I run to Puck's door and pretend that I don't hear the noises on the other side. "I LOVE YOU, LAUREN! I FUCKING LOVE YOU!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Chug, chug, chug, chug!" A bunch of us chant, as Joe attempts to kill beer, after taking a shot. He doesn't finish, but he was pretty close, and we're all too happy to rip him for it. I throw an arm around him and pat his slightly numb face.

"You're still a killer, lil bro!" I tell him and he laughs, wiping his mouth and hi-fiving a few of the bar dwellers that we're hanging with. One girl takes a particular interest in him, and when she finally starts talking to him, I back up and wink at him, before leaning against the bar, next to Puck and Lauren. I turn to them to start a conversation, but they're mouths are too busy sucking each other's lips off.

"Cheers!" I jokingly shout, tapping my beer bottle against the sides of their faces. Lauren playfully pushes me away without detaching her face from Puck's. I laugh and shake my head at the lovebirds, feeling truly happy for my friends. I glance at the three of them and see how much they've grown as individuals. Puck and Lauren have finally accepted that they're meant to be, in a chaotic sort of way, and Joe is finally able to break out of his shell when it comes to women. They've matured and it makes me feel proud of them. Now, thanks to Lauren, we'll be able to kind of start over, we'll be living together like the family we are, and we're going to be in a place much better than the crap holes we live in now. We can all start looking for better jobs, too. I want a better job…a career, something I don't have to defend when people ask me what I do for a living. I mean, landscaping is actually a great job. It pays very well…if you're hired by the right company or have our own. I just get paid much less because of my record, I get paid half of what I'm supposed to be because it's better than not getting anything because no one else will hire me. Still, I like what I do. I like working and earning every cent, by doing some hard labor; nothing's wrong with that. So what if I get dirt under my nails, who said I have to be sitting on my ass all day in front of a computer, in order to be considered successful? _Rachel…Rachel's mom. _Apparently, I'm not good enough for their standards.

I take a long drink, until I empty the bottle. It's been a long day; I coated the deck and the fence with wood stain, started fertilizing the grass, installed the garden bed, and ordered the cement, the BBQ grill, and the fountain to arrive in a few days. I also ate my packed lunch alone, instead of going to Rachel's work and picking her up, so I can take her to a nice little sandwich shop, where they have vegan meat. I left before either one of the spouses arrived home; and I ignored Finn's texts, asking if I want to go drinking with his work friends. It pissed me off…his texts. It pissed me off that he doesn't care if his _business circle_ sees him hanging with me, but Rachel…Oh no, she'll burn in Hell if anyone sees her eating a fucking sandwich with me.

Needless to say, this little celebration before our set is exactly what I needed. I just need to separate myself from them and move on; once I'm done with their yard…I'm done with them.

"Fabray!"

Crap! "Hey, Finn," I force a smile, as I grip the empty bottle neck, to keep from gripping his.

"You guys are playing, tonight, right?" He asks, nudging Lauren and Puck, who ignore him.

"Yeah, in a few minutes actually," I look around the bar and don't see Rachel, but she's small, so... "Are you here alone?"

"Nah, I got the ol' ball and chain," he chuckles, pointing aimlessly behind him. "She just didn't feel like coming over and saying hi. Our neighbors are here, too."

I furrow my brow and nod, "Oh…Well, uh we gotta go get ready, so I'll see you later or something." I pat his shoulder, call out to Joe, and pull Puck and Lauren apart, before walking up to the stage.

"How's everyone doing, tonight?" The crowd cheers and I look at my bandmates, who nod that they are ready for the usual impromptu set list. I turn back around and see the blonde from the other day, she's not too happy as she looks up at me, but I can tell she's still interested. I smirk at her and then glance out further and see Finn waving, Santana and her girlfriend smiling at me, and Rachel avoiding my eyes. I grab the mic stand and shout, "Let's start off with something a little loud! You know, something that will _eat you alive?" _They cheer and it's immediately drowned out by Puck, who starts playing, followed by the rest of us…I look back at the blonde and wink at her…

"_**Hey, you, Mrs. I don't know what the fuck your name is/ I'm drawn to you something's magnetic, here/ If I could approach you or even get close to the scent that you left behind, I'd be fine!/"**_

I smile at how she instantly brightens and I continue with Puck and Joe helping with the rough vocals…

"_**No doubt that (no doubt) you bring out (bring out) the animal inside!/ (I'd eat you alive!) I'd eat you alive../(I'd eat you alive!) I'd eat you alive…"**_

I spin around and smile at Lauren, who is killing it on the drums; and when I turn back, I set my eyes on Rachel, who quickly looks away.

"_**HEY, YOU! Mrs. Too-Good-To Look-My-Way and that's cool, you want nothing, at all, to do with me/ But I want you; ain't nothing wrong with wanting you 'cause I'm a woman and I can think what the hell I want, you got that straight?/ No doubt that (no doubt) I'd love to (I'd love) sniff on them panties, now!/ (I'd eat you alive!) I'd eat you alive…/ (I'd eat you alive!) I'd eat you alive…"**_

I don't move my eyes away from Rachel, she's staring, openly, at me, now. She's pissed and I can tell that she knows I'm singing to her.

"_**I'm sorry, so sorry (damn, you're so hot!)/ Your beauty is so vain (damn, you're so hot!)/ It drives me; yes, it drives me (damn, you're so hot!) absolutely insane."**_

She finally looks at me and I feel my heart pound inside my chest. I love her so much…

"_**I just want to look at you/ I just want to look at you/ I just want to look at you, all day/ There ain't nothing wrong, no/ There ain't nothing with that/ Once you seep in (once you seep in) under my skin (under my skin)/ There's nothing , there's nothing in this world that could wash you away…/ Once you seep in (once you seep in) under my skin (under my skin)/ There's nothing, there's nothing in this world that could wash you away…"**_

I grab onto the mic stand and sing out to her…

"_**I'm sorry, so sorry (damn, you're so hot!)/ Your beauty is so vain (damn, you're so hot!)/ It drives me, yes it drives me (damn, you're so hot!) absolutely insane/ (I'd eat you alive!) I'd eat you alive…/(I'd eat you alive!) I'd eat you alive…/ (I'D EAT YOU ALIVE!)"**_

We don't wait for the crowd to settle, before we start the next song. We play an old Black Keys song and the whole time I try to tear my eyes away from them, as they dance along to our playing. I try to focus on the blonde who's name I can't remember for the life of me. I try to pay attention to Santana, as she tries to mouth something to me from her table. I try to let the music control me, but she's the only one that can do that. We finish the song and I watch as they sit back in their spot. Finn throws an arm around her shoulders and takes on his fourth drink. My insides hurt when I think of what will most likely happen when they get home. He'll whine for sex, because he's drunk, and she'll give in, again. I find it hard to believe that she actually meant it when she said that she loved me. She wouldn't be coming here and flaunting her marriage in my face like this, if she did…she wouldn't lie to my face, she wouldn't be so embarrassed by me. She just likes the attention I give her, the attention she doesn't get from her husband.

I turn and look at my bandmates…They know what I'm feeling; they understand. They nod and walk off the stage, leaving me alone.

"I'm going to slow it down, let you all relax and calm down, a bit," I nervously laugh and the crowd claps in appreciation of the break I'm going to give them. It's become incredibly hot and stuffy in here, though I'm not sure if it's because of all the rowdy people or the jealousy heating me up, as I look at Finn rub her shoulder with his hand. She looks at me, but I turn away to grab the acoustic that Puck hands me.

I thank him and wait a few seconds, struggling to gather my courage, before slowly starting to play…

"_**Drink up, beautiful; I spiked your cup with angst and a heart attack/ 'Cause I've got so much trapped/ It's all because of you, so I figured you might like some back…/And when I see her, I'll tell her what's been on my mind, all these sleepless nights/ She'll recite her excuses/ Put my tail between these legs of mine, like I do all the time…"**_

I play the strings and focus on them, instead of the blonde swaying softly from side to side, eyes glossy because she thinks this is about her…It's really about the one that is being snuggled against by her husband, as she looks down at her lap.

"_**I can't live my life, knowing you'll be in his arms, each time I blink my eyes/ Know what goes on, behind my back, every night/ I'm afraid I'll never leave, afraid I'll never know what's good for me/ And when I see her, I'll tell her what's been on my mind, all these sleepless nights/ She'll recite her excuses/Put my tail between these legs of mine, like I do all the time…"**_

There's a moment where I feel her staring at me and I want so bad to look up and see her, but I can't…I know that if I do, I'll end up crying on stage, in front of everyone, so I close my eyes and force the waiting tears back, as memories flash before me: Us kissing, feeling closer to her with just one touch, knowing that he's had her…all of her…then her voice when she was about to tell me that she loves me…

"_**And now, you say that…you say you love me/ Well, I may have your heart, he has your body/ And now, you swear that…you're being honest/ But you're not honest; you never could be…/…And when I see her, I'll tell her what's been on my mind, all these sleepless nights/ She'll recite her excuses/ Put my tail between these legs of mine, like I do all the time."**_

I look up and see everyone clapping and rooting for me. My eyes automatically move to her, but all I see is Santana and Finn…scratch that…I see a confused Finn. I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket, as Santana gives me a look at says, "Yeah, dumbass, that's me texting you!"

"Uh, thank you…I'm going to take a quick break, but Puck is going to treat you right with some good music." I wave my friends over and they instantly start up, as I flee the stage.

I run to the back room to avoid the ditzy blonde, who tries to follow me. I open the text that Santana text me…

"Fabray, open up!" I hear Finn yell, as he pounds on the locked door. "I wanna talk to you!"

Fuck! If Santana is right about Finn being suspicious, then I have to own up to my shit. I ready myself for a fight, as I unlock the door and swing it open.

Santana barges in, first. "Finn is being ridiculous!" She shouts, winking at me as she passes me, with Finn stomping in behind her.

"I am not! You saw the way she acted! Don't try and deny it!" He yells back at my therapist.

"Finn, do you know how insane you sound, right now?" She counters and shakes her head, as if to say, _this guy._

"Fabray!" He snaps his fingers at me, as I stare at the still open door. "Tell me, that you didn't see Rachel staring at you like you were singing to her! Tell me!"

I take in his confused face and I can't find it in me to lie to the guy, but I can't be the one to break it to him. It has to be Rachel's decision, and I'll back her up when she's ready… "I – I…" I shake my head, feeling light-headed with all the tension sucking the life out of the room. "I didn't see anything…I was just focusing on the song."

"Bullshit! I know you know she likes you!"

"She does not!" Santana shouts, playing along, very well. I guess, being a therapist makes you a good actor.

"Dude, she doesn't like me," I add, hoping he'll listen to me. "She barely tolerates me because she knows I'm your friend."

He shakes his head angrily, "No! She does like you! She asks about you and that morning when she came to get me at your apartment, she kept asking questions about you and that blonde chick! She sounded jealous or something; it's-"

"You're overreacting, Hudson!" Santana yells over him.

"No! No, I'm not! I found dirt in the bedroom! In OUR bedroom!" He shouts back at her, but keeps his eyes on me. "There's no reason she would go to the backyard! YOU must have been in there!"

I shake my head, not because I'm denying anything, but because I can't believe this is happening…here, now...I don't know what to do. I don't know if I should be the one to tell the truth.

"You were, weren't you? ! You were in my room, with Rachel!" He shoves me and it's all it takes for me to get angry.

"Don't fucking push me!" I shove him back and he does the same, until we're shoving each other like two idiots.

"Knock it off!" Santana yells, getting in between us. "You both are acting like dumbasses!"

"Just admit, Fabray! Don't be a pussy about it!"

"Fuck you!" I move to shove him, but my therapist stops me, giving me a warning with her eyes.

"No, fuck you!" He spits, stepping back and shaking his head at me.

"Quinn, what the hell? !"

Fucking shit!

"Quinn? Your real name is _Quinn_?" Finn asks, turning away from the blonde that out-ed me. "Are you fucking kidding me? !" He clenches his hands into fists and gets in my face, towering over me, trying to intimidate me. He looks at me in disbelief, as if he doesn't understand why his wife would be attracted to me. I'm so sick of everyone looking and talking down to me, all the damn time…

"Yes!" I blurt out, I hear Santana mutter a curse or something. "And don't look so surpri-"

He pushes me so hard that I stumble backwards and fall on my ass. "Get up! Stand up!" He shouts at me, his face red with rage.

I growl and shoot up, ramming into him and knocking his against the door frame.

"Quinn!" Santana yells, trying to pull me away from the much bigger bulk of human. "You're gonna get hurt! You're insane!"

"Finn gets me in a headlock and turns me into the edge of the table by the door. I groan at the sharp pain in my ribs, and I punch his sides with my fists; he doesn't let go.

"Let her go!" I faintly hear Santana, as I try to control my breathing, with his giant arm around my neck. I pound on his back and his shoulders, anywhere that I can, but it doesn't work.

"Sanny!" I hear a fourth voice scream at my therapist, I assume it's her girlfriend.

"Finn, stop it! Stop it! Stop it!"

"Rachel!" I call out to her, desperate to find a new strength to fight off her massive husband.

"You're hurting her! Stop it, please! Just stop, Finn! Please!" I can hear her crying between her shouts and it hurts me more to hear her so upset, than it does to have someone squeezing the life out of me.

"Please, Finn; don't hurt her!"

"What about me? !" He yells, squeezing harder and I officially panic when I can barely suck in any air. He swings me into the table, again and I try to stay on my feet, but it's getting more difficult with each short breath. "You both hurt me!"

I growl at that and if he wasn't choking me, I'd…I use the last of my energy and manage to punch him in his balls. He immediately lets go and when he does I don't give him a second to prepare for the uppercut I give him to his chin.

"You hurt her first!" I barely say above an inside voice, "You weren't there for her when she needed someone!" My words come out broken between breaths and it's painful to breathe or even move my neck.

"Everyone out!" Santana says, pointing to the cops that burst into the bar. She grabs me and Finn and hauls us both out through the back door. "You two better get the fuck out of here or you'll both get arrested."

I glance at Finn, he looks like he's trying to weigh his options…

"Move, Hudson, or you'll be saying 'bye, bye' to your fancy office, once your boss finds out you were arrested for assaulting a woman!"

He kicks a trash bin and points at me, "It's not over, Fabray!" He threatens, before running off to his car.

"And YOU! Get the hell out of here! You're lucky I don't call your P.O. and get you arrested, just for pushing him. Self-defense or not, probation doesn't take these kind of incidents lightly! I'll tell your friends you went home, and Brittany will take Rachel to our place."

"That's the first place he'll look!" I tell her, "You saw him in there! He's not going to listen to anyone! I don't want her to get hurt!"

"Just go, Quinn!"

"Take her to her mom's…Please. I know she'll protect her and I know he won't go anywhere near there. He can't stand her."

"Okay, fine," she nods and shoos me with her hand.

"And tell her that I'm sorry…that I love her. Tell her to call me when she's at her mom's; that I won't sleep until I hear her voice."

"Okay, now go," she orders, looking over her shoulder. "Go before they find you."

I nod and run to my truck, as some of the other bar dwellers litter the street…

**/END CHAPTER\**

****Told you it was an important one...Thoughts? Questions? Critiques? **

**P.S. A special thank you to Dena aka a LOYAL LOVELY :) for reminding me of a song that I've been wanting to use in this fic, which is the first one: "Eat You Alive" by Limp Bizkit. **

**The second song has been in my collection for a while, it's called: "Don't Call Me Peanut" by Bayside. Both songs are posted on my tumblr (loveisforlovelies) so take a listen to get the full effect of their power because they really do have strong messages and passionate vocals.**

**Thank you, Lovelies…I really do love how much you love this story, hence the reason why I updated two days in a row, instead of updating one of the other fics I have. Shhh, don't tell the others ;)**


	12. Chapter 12

****Hello, Lovelies! Your comments are always so honest and I appreciate them so much. That said I want to address some questions/comments that a few of you have mentioned. Some of you are confused by Quinn's actions: Why is she all of a sudden, so different in these latter chapters, than she is in the early chapters, specifically her new back bone or her new confidence in her body (sleeping with the stalker, the incident in Rachel's shower)? Well, it all starts with the stalker. Remember when she first kissed Quinn and felt her erection…and didn't freak out, and instead pursued her further? That gave Quinn some self-esteem, so when Puck told Quinn that she will never have Rachel…Quinn hooked up with the one that she knew she could actually have. The sex leads to Quinn feeling better about herself, thinking that maybe she can find someone who will love and respect her, so she uses that confidence to stand up to Rachel (stalker=confident Quinn=Jealous Rachel loses hold on Quinn=Panic mode and feelings are quickly intensified=Rachel being easier on Quinn). Now…Rachel's issue with not wanting to be seen with Quinn is shallow, yes. The reason why she still shows up to see the band gigs is because the grungy bar is a place that people from her "circle" would never go to, therefore she doesn't worry about attending. Another reason is because of Finn, who has formed a friendship with Quinn and enjoys watching the band, so it's a good excuse for her to "tag along" without raising suspicion. The reason why she didn't follow Quinn in chapter 10 was because the situation was more visibly suspicious: An upset Quinn and a married woman chasing after her; I think it would be odd if I saw that happen to my neighbor. **

**And also…angels! (lol jk I had to throw that in, since that explanation was so long). **

**Anyway, I hope that clears up any confusion…Sorry, I had to explain it in paragraphs. I guess that's my fault for not being the good kind of writer that lets my plots/characters/etc speak for themselves. My apologies :(**

**CHAPTER 12:**

I've tried Rachel's cell phone twelve times, since I got the text from Santana, informing me that Rachel is at her mother's home; and that she told her to call me. I waited a half hour before calling the first time…Then another fifteen minutes passed before my second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth call was forwarded to her voicemail. I busied myself with a shower and when my band mates showed up I explained, to them, everything that happened, before I tried her phone another six times. I left no voicemails and I didn't bother with texts; I refuse to settle for anything but a phone call…I need to hear her. For all I know, Santana could've been lying to me…Maybe she doesn't really support Rachel cheating on Finn and she really took her home, so she can talk it out with him. The thought makes my stomach, head, and chest hurt.

I stare at the glowing screen of my phone, in the dark of my room, as I dial my therapist's number. It rings four times before…

"Hello?"

I can tell I woke her up, but I'm not in a mood to feel bad, right now.

"She hasn't called me," I tell her, the concern evident in my voice. "Are you sure she's at her mom's? That she's okay?"

She sighs heavily and mutters something to someone in the background; I assume it's her girlfriend. "I'm sure, Quinn…Positive, actually. We physically walked her into the house and her mother took her to her old room."

"I was there, too!" The girlfriend shouts in the background. "I'm totally an eye-witness!"

I furrow my brow at the random outburst, but it does ease my mind to hear the innocence of her tone. "Why hasn't she called me, then?" I hate to sound so desperate, but desperate times call for desperate measures. "You know what? Can you just give me her mom's address? If she won't call me then I'll go to her."

"Are you insane? It's three in the morning; it's bad enough you're calling me at this hour. Trust me, she's fine, Quinn. She's probably trying to sleep or freaking out because her husband _just___found out she's been cheating on him…_with a woman_…_with a dick_…so give her this one night to be alone and figure out what she really wants."

Then it dawns on me…she's not alone; she's with her mother, who pretty much hates me. No doubt the woman is telling Rachel to forget about me and do anything and everything to get Finn to forgive her.

"Her mom hates me…She's going to brainwash Rachel into making things right with Finn and dumping me; I know it." I reply, trying my best to steady my wobbly voice.

It's quiet, aside from the soft humming Santana's doing on her end, as she mulls the situation over. "How about I call her, see if she picks up and if she does I'll find out what's going on. I'll text you, regardless if I get a hold of her or not; okay?"

It's not the ideal solution, but it's better than nothing. "Okay…Thanks…and sorry for waking you; I'm just really worried and I want to at least hear her." I add because now I really do feel bad for interrupting her sleep.

"It's okay!" The girlfriend shouts, from the background, "We think it's cute that you care so much about Rachie!"

I'm taken aback, by the comment, but a smile forms on my face at hearing the nickname.

"Correction…Brittany thinks it's cute; I think it's something like Stockholm Syndrome, but I won't get into that, now," she says it matter-of-factly, but I can hear her smile as she says it, just before she hangs-up.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Dude, are you sure this isn't some kind of trap? How do you know that this is even her mom's house? Maybe your therapist is setting you up to get your ass kicked. Finn could be hiding in that bush over there…" Puck asks, concerned and a bit paranoid. "Look! I swear that bush just moved!" He shouts, as he points at the shaking plant, from the driver's seat of my truck.

"First of all, it's just a cat. Second, Finn couldn't fit behind that bush, anyway, so relax. I appreciate the fact that you're looking out for me and that you actually drove me all the way over here in the early morning…I just need you to chill out."

"I have a funny feeling in my gut, that's all. I don't trust them." He explains, avoiding eye contact, as he frowns.

"Then trust me…" I put my hand on his shoulder and pat it. "You're a good friend, Puck."

He quickly turns his head to look at me; we smile at each other, before he drops his in a hurry, "You're being gay, Q," he says, with a serious face.

I punch his arm, "Asshole."

"Yeah, yeah, now let's hurry up so I can get back to my fat-bottomed girl," he comments and hops out of the car.

I do the same, grabbing my bag and the flowers I bought for her, on the way here. We jog across the street and to the huge tree on the side of the two story house.

"Ready?" He asks, in a whisper, as he lowers his hands to give me a boost.

I put the strap of the bag over my shoulder and bite down on the stems of the bouquet, before grabbing onto a low hanging branch. I mumble a 'yes' and I'm quickly hoisted up. I'm thankful for all those workouts I get because it's easy to make my way to the window of Rachel's childhood bedroom.

I look down and faintly see Puck nodding in the morning darkness. I take a deep breath and slowly lift one hand off the branch I'm clinging to, so I can tap on the window, like the text instructions told me to. My fingertips are less than an inch away from the glass, when it suddenly slides open, startling me. A yelp escapes from my flowered mouth, as I pull my arm back and wrap all four of my limbs around the branch, with my eyes screwed shut.

"Quinn," I hear Rachel whisper, followed by Puck's snicker. I open my eyes and see Puck silently laughing, as he points up at me, knowing I'm afraid of heights. I flip him off and lift my head, finding Rachel leaning halfway out of her window, motioning me to hurry up and get inside.

I scoot along the branch, until she's able to hook her arms under mine. I give a thumbs-up to Puck, before she drags me through her window. Once I'm inside, safe, I set my bag down and she sticks her head back out and whispers "thank you, Puck" to my friend, who nods and jogs back to the truck. I take the flowers out of my mouth, as she closes her window and turns to face me.

I can't help, but smile when I see the moonlight glow around her head like a halo; the light shimmering off the gloss of her eyes. She's been crying, possibly sobbing, and I've never seen something so tragically beautiful.

She squirms uncomfortably under my heavy gaze and she self-consciously rubs at her face with both hands.

"God, I must look awful," she mumbles behind her palms. I shake my head, in disagreement, even though she can't see me.

Stepping closer to her, I use my free hand to gently tug on her arms until they fall to her sides. "These are for you," I hand her the bouquet and nod when she gives me a "really?" look.

"Thank you," she whispers around a growing smile; it feels like butterflies are in my chest, their wings tickling my heart. She moves to vanity and gently places the flowers on it, before gracefully walking over to flip on the light switch.

The room is kind of small, but that's not what steals my attention.

"This used to be your old room?" I ask, practically spinning around, taking in every detail. The pale yellow walls, the Broadway posters and playbills, the random stuffed animals on her dressers and scattered on the floor.

She quickly starts collecting the dolls around the room, her cheeks flushing red. "It was a long time ago," her voice still manages to be strict, as she shoves the toys in her closet.

"Wait," I rush over to stop her from shutting the closet completely. "Can I see?"

She shakes her head and looks away, "I rather you not."

"Why?" I ask, cornering her. She gasps and I see how the dip between her collarbones deepens with the harsh breath. Her eyes are zeroed in on my lips and I take the opportunity to glance into the crack of the still-open closet. From what I can see, her animals are on the bottom, on top of rows of ballerina flats, normal flats, clogs, and tap-dancing shoes. I look up and see full outfits hung; most are button-ups with animal sweaters and various skirts…and a lot of argyle.

Suddenly, the closet shuts and Rachel grabs my face with her hands. "I said I rather you not invade my privacy." She has my full attention, as she studies the gulp of air traveling down my throat. "That was the old Rachel…I'm the one that you want, not her." She smirks, but the way her jaw flexes and her eyes avoid mine, I can tell that she's desperate to be in control of the situation. She must feel so vulnerable, right now. Her teenage self is exposed and judging by the way she's demanding my focus to remain on her, I know she's extremely insecure.

"Get on the bed, Quinnie." She shoves me toward her four post bed and I'm instantly turned on. Sneaking into her room, with her mother down the hall, with her husband elsewhere…Well, there goes that erection. The thought of Finn is like guilt kicked me in the balls…

"Rachel…Can we talk?" I ask, as she removes her overly large night shirt. Instinctively a moan emits from my mouth as my guttural need to suck on her bare breasts overtakes me.

"No." She answers, pushing me down, until I'm sitting on the edge of her bed. She straddles me; her thighs pressed on either side of my clothed waist and I force myself to avert my eyes from her pubic mound.

She's in full mode, now. I arch my spine into her front when she bites down on my neck and slides her hands up the back of my shirt.

"Ra…Oh my god!" I groan and bury my face into her chest, while her nails scrape along my shoulder blades. "Wha…Wait, Rach – Fuck!" I curse as she grinds herself against my protruding crotch. Her soft mewls are pure sex and if I don't get her to listen, now, there'll be no stopping, until she's passed out on her bed, exhausted from the multiple orgasms I'll give her…it's routine.

My next plea is muffled by her perfect mouth; her tongue touches mine, softly, shyly, like she's trying to ask me for something…It's different, new; it gives me the edge.

I bring my hands up to her face and caress her temples, my thumbs lightly brush the corners of her eyes…there's tears. Breaking the kiss, but still holding her head against mine, I find that her eyes are closed. I try to catch her tears with my fingers, until she leans completely on me, crying freely into the crook of my shoulder.

My arms make haste to wrap my arms around her, lifting us both, so I can move further onto the messy bed. I lay us on our sides and I hold her close to me, as she breathes wetly on my shirt. It's strangely comforting, aside from being heartbreaking; I kiss her head, the shampoo wafting into my nose.

"I love you, Rachel." It comes out randomly, but somehow it's perfect for this situation. I know it's all hit her, again. The guilt, shame, hurt that she feels about the entire night and how her husband knows that she's been unfaithful. "I'm sorry," Again, it's random, but really it's fitting. "I'm so sorry, Rachel."

She cries harder and hiccups. I rub her back and kiss her head some more. "No matter what, I'll be here for you. I'll always stand by you. I'd do anything for you, Rachel."

I feel her tense up at my words, but she seems to have calmed down with the crying.

"I mean it…" I tighten my hold on her and lower my head so I can kiss her ear. "Tell me what you're thinking…Please?"

She slowly pulls away, just enough so we can have eye contact. "I'm a horrible, horrible, person." I shake my head, but before I can make a verbal disagreement she shouts, "I am, Quinn! I am…I cheated on my husband; I've _b_eencheating on him…for months…he has no clue about how deep this all is!"

"Maybe he doesn't have to know. I mean he already knows I've been around for a while; I don't think it makes a difference if he knows exactly how long this has been going on or -"

"That's not what I mean," she interrupts, with fresh tears in her eyes. "Just forget it, Quinn." She turns over and away from me.

"Explain it to me," I scoot closer, until I'm spooning her. She doesn't move or speak. I trail my hand up and down her bare stomach, in an effort to comfort her.

She stops my hand, but doesn't push it away; she just places her over mine. "I mean, _we_ are…What we have is deeper than I ever expected it to be. It all happened so fast; I didn't even have any time to control it, to stop it from happening. It's like it possessed me and now I can't stop thinking about-" she stops abruptly and her fingers twitch on mine.

"I can't stop thinking about you, either," I reply, hoping I'm not being too presumptuous.  
>Her abdomen trembles as she giggles, but it's only half gleeful. She moves out hands to her mouth and she sighs against the back of my hand.<p>

"I don't know what to do…" I can hear the sadness in her voice.

_BE WITH ME! _I furrow my brow at my on selfishness and decide to keep that thought to myself. It's hard to do when I can get used to having her in my arms like this…being here for her when it really matters. She leans into me, until there's no part of my front that isn't touching her back.

"I've never done this before," she starts up again. It's a vague statement, so my mind instantly wonders what she means…cheating? Being vulnerable like this? Letting someone comfort her? "I've never had anyone in _this _bed before." She turns around and lies on her back, briefly meeting my eyes.

I smile at how cute she looks, even when she's embarrassed. "That's hard to believe…I mean, only because you're so beautiful…" I roll my eyes at how lame that sounds.

She smiles into a soft laugh, "I wasn't in school…" her laugh fades and her lips curve downward. "I was a sad loser, back then. Everyone hated me and I was so desperate for acceptance that people easily took advantage of me. I was a complete doormat and the result was losing any self-esteem I had left and that ultimately cost me my dreams…" She clears her throat and I can tell that she's reigning in her emotions, "I was weak and I let others control me…But that was years ago. I'm different, now."

I don't know if she's aware of the little nod she makes after she's done speaking, if she's aware that she sounds like she's trying to convince herself that she's a new woman. Sure, she may have changed in some ways; but I can't help but think that the old Rachel isn't completely gone.

"I wish I would have met you then."

She scoffs and shakes her head, "You would have hated my guts. I was annoying, obnoxious, and had the ego of a Broadway diva…without actually being a Broadway diva."

I smile at the way her eyes instinctively glance across the room at the posters on her walls. If I look hard enough I can see the smallest of a licking flame, still alive, in her eyes.

"You wanted to be on the stage, didn't you?" I gently ask, noticing the way her eyes widen in shock, as if it wasn't obvious what her real dream was. "What happened? I mean, you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. It's none of my business, anyway, so I understand if you tell me to shut up or-"

"Shut up, Quinn," she giggles and moves her hand onto mine, again; this time linking our fingers together. "It's a long story, but basically I choked during a very important audition and I ended up working for my Grandfather's business…I was introduced to Finn, who works for a company we sponsor and next thing I know I'm married." She sighs as if she's exhausted and I don't blame her…she's so unhappy. "I always thought that I'd stick with the company, until I got my drive back, and then I'd move to New York, but this marriage is an anchor…I really should be glad that it's over…but I'm not."

Something hurts in my chest when I hear those words, but I can't be self-absorbed, right now; not when I finally have her confessing to me.

"Maybe…Maybe it's not over," I reply, trying to sound supportive. "Maybe he'll want to work it out…I'm sure he'd fight for you. I mean, he literally fought me, so at least you know he cares, right?"

"He cares about his pride," she spits. "He has this idea that he can be as selfish, insensitive, and not listen to anything I say because he was my first relationship. In his eyes, I'm still the insecure girl he met, fresh out of high school, and he's still the hot shot quarterback."

I'm confused… "Then why aren't you glad that it could possibly be over?"

"Because I'm scared," she whimpers, as tears fall down the sides of her cheeks and fall into the dip in her ears. "The divorce is going to be so ugly…I'll lose everything because I'm the one that cheated."

Nothing has made me feel worse than knowing that she may lose it all because of _me_…She'll be left with nothing, but a bad reputation…she could very well lose her job if her "circle" kicks her out. I'm not worth the loss and I wish I was worth it…or at least able to suffer the consequences of our affair, instead of her.

"I'm so sorry," I say, again. "Rachel, this is my fault. I'll talk to Finn…I'll let him kick my ass, again. I'll find a way to convince him to not take it all away from you. I promise. I'll even try to get him to give you another chance…I'll back off for-"

"Shut up, Quinn!" She whispers harshly. "I don't want him to give me another chance. I want to be over; and if I lose everything…so be it. I can start over…I _will_ start over."

I don't realize that her hands are under my shirt, again, until her hands rub along my ribs, causing me to wince. Right, I was slammed into a table.

"He touches you, again…I'll kick his ass, myself," she threatens, tugging on my shirt until I lift myself up and take off the tee. She examines the bruise with a cute frown. "Does it hurt?"

"A little, but only when it's touched. I'm fine," I answer, pulling her closer to me, as I lay back down. "Are you feeling better?"

She rests her head on my shoulder and traces her delicate fingers over the "R" on my torso. "Yes…It helps to know that I won't lose everything important to me."

The caress and the words draw a big smile from me. It's nice to hear and feel things like this, from her. I know we are far from that solving the complexities of our relationship, but this is a nice start. It's nice to be here and be completely open with each other, for once. My eyes trace over her room, again and to the closet that represents so much…I want her to not be ashamed of her past. If she can accept mine, I can accept hers…as if I couldn't; I've seen her in one of those outfits, days ago. It was so sexy…

"Well, as long as he doesn't ask for your school outfits," I tease, instantly regretting it when she lifts her head, her eyes wide at hearing my poorly-timed joke. "I mean, they're nice! I like them! Obviously, they're not the most important possession, but you know…Uh, it's like a metaphor and metaphors are important…" I ramble and finish with a nervous smile.

She studies me with squinted eyes, before breaking into a full-grown laughing smile and saying "Shut up, Quinn."

**/END CHAPTER\**

****I'm glad you made it this far. Sorry for any mistakes or anything. If you have any questions or comments, I will gladly get back to you. I hope you enjoyed and thanks for stopping by.**


	13. Chapter 13

****Hello, Lovelies! Glad you're still around. I can't tell you how much I appreciate and love those of you who have been reviewing and leaving me feedback and even making suggestions. I am so fortunate to have readers like you :) **

**CHAPTER 13:**

Nothing should ever feel this good. This is how addictions work their way into a helpless system, a frantic bloodstream, a submissive heart, too in love to deny entry. From the first groan she drew from me, to the first scar she marked me with, to this very moment…I've been hers.

"Why do you enjoy this so much?" The words soothe the burn that her nails leave behind, as she kisses along the path. I can't speak when she's doing these things to me; my mouth is clamped shut, trying to keep the noises, crawling up my throat, down. "Hmmm? Tell me why you love this, Quinnie."

Nothing should ever sound this sexy. This isn't fair; but when in life are things balanced? She has always had the upper hand in this game, but now that it's not a game, to either of us, anymore, she has lowered that hand…considerably.

Her fingers play with the waistband of my underwear, as mine trace light circles around her nipples. Her body has skin so smooth and soft that sometimes I'm afraid to touch her.

"Don't be scared, baby," she husks, while pulling my briefs off my hips, to my knees, where I kick them off the rest of the way.

"Ohhh shhh…" I fade into a whimper when our centers touch, bare, for the first time. We don't move; we simply feel the warmth of one another, while we stare at the light, from the window, shining in our eyes. It's silent, except for the pounding in my ears, as my face heats up with a blush. "Are we really..."

I sigh into her mouth when she leans in and kisses me…and it sets me on fire.

Gripping the backs of her thighs I lift her with a hard thrust and turn her on her back. I push her back, until she drapes her legs over my shoulders. I look down at her; her eyes are closed, a smile playing across her face and I can't imagine anything more beautiful. I place a few light kisses to her impossibly long legs, as I slowly move into her. She sucks air through her teeth, digs into the mattress below her, and the deepened wrinkle in her brow has me gently exploring her body. The writhing of her hips and her fingers tug at the sheets pressed down by my knees, desperate for leverage. I push her legs back and nibble on the back of her left shin, while massaging the right, as I push loud guttural moans out of her, from deep within her trembling abdomen.

"Whhhy did you let me – Fuck!" She lifts her arms up and tucks them under her pillows just to have something to grab onto. "I didn't kn-know what I, was miss-ssing!"

"Now, you do," I answer and drop down to suck on her earlobe. She rewards me with a high-pitched yelp and two sets of nails burrowing into my back, before teasingly dragging up to my shoulders.

I arch up and press harder into her body; she mouth looks so fragile, lips quivering, twisting, and being pulled back by the noises coming out of her. I want more. Her voice is so strong; I can't believe that I didn't know that she could sing; that she had dreams to be on a Broadway stage. I can see it, now.

Her arms raised above her head, her back straight, her chest out, her stomach tense, her mouth a perfect 'O' as she sounds out into my soul, singing melodies like angels. There's a rhythmic drumming backing her up and I guide our bodies with each lift that her voice carries us on; and the drum is louder and grander with each beat.

Her hands weave through my hair and scratch at my scalp. My lips massage her neck and shoulder as she approaches her final note…

"Ooooohhh-" she starts.

"_My God! Rachel what the fuck? !" _

"No, no, no, no!" I cry out when the angel beneath me pushes me off, before I could finish.

"Mom! Get out!"

"_Are you crazy? !" _

"_MOM!"_

"Whhhy?" I whimper and bury myself under the blankets.

"Get dressed, _now_!" Is all that is said, before the bedroom door is slammed shut.

"I'm so sorry, baby!" She says, immediately holding me and kissing my face.

It'd be easy to pick up where we left off, but her mom yells through the door, killing that thought.

"Hurry up!"

"I'll make it up to you; I promise." She kisses me one more time and gets up to throw some clothes on, after tossing my shirt and my pajama shorts at my blanket covered face. "Quinn, hurry up," she urges pulling the warm fabric off me.

I slip into my shirt and barely manage to slide into my shorts, before her mom barges in, unable to keep her patience.

"Rachel, what the Hell are you doing? ! And _YOU_! I know you did not just sneak into my house to have sex with my daughter!"

"I didn't sneak in for sex, M'am. I wanted to make sure Rachel was okay."

"How? By driving her bed through the wall? ! She's my daughter, _Quinn_! I don't want to wake to the sound of my daughter's moaning and her bed banging against the wall!"

"I'm sorry," I apologize, but she just shakes her head.

"Mom, we're both sorry, now can you please give us some privacy?"

"So you can go back at it? I don't think so; out Quinn," she instructs, stepping further into the room, around Rachel's bed, and pulling me out of the blanket by my arm. She shoves me toward the window and tosses me my backpack. "Out the same way you came in."

"Are you serious? Mom, just let her use the door," Rachel argues.

"No! She likes to climb trees and break into houses then she can climb her ass back down." Opening the window she points outside, as if to direct me. "C'mon, out you go."

I frown, slinging my backpack over my shoulders and lifting myself, slowly, out the window. "Bye, Rach. Call m-" Her mom shuts the window and the curtain before I can finish my goodbye… "Geez, now, I know why Finn hates her," I mumble to the squirrel that's currently staring me down, as I cling to the tree branch like a koala…or a sloth…or a cat that climbed too high and doesn't know how to get back to the ground without falling a million feet. "Fuck my life," I groan and try to scoot closer to the trunk but the squirrel won't move. "Are you kidding me? Move; go away!" I hiss, nodding my head every which way, as if that's some well known threatening gesture amongst the squirrel community…It doesn't move, so neither do I.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Quinn? What are you still doing here?" I hear Rachel ask, an hour or so later, when she reopens her window.

"I'm stuck," I answer, not turning to look at her.

"Are you serious?" She laughs, "Come here," I feel her pat my butt.

"No, your mom is going to scream at me, again," I reply, not loosening my grip on the branch.

"She left twenty minutes ago, so get in here, now, before you fall off or something," she scolds, tugging on my waist.

"Okay, okay," I take a deep breath and start scooting the opposite way, until Rachel pulls back through the window.

"When were you planning on telling me that you were still hanging on my tree?" She questions, leading me to her bed. She looks gorgeous. She just took a shower because she's in a towel, looking fresh and clean. I definitely can't get back in her bed, now; I'd just get her dirty all over again.

"No, Rachel, I'm just going to call Puck to come pick me up."

"What for? We have our appointment today, anyway, so we might as well go together."

"Appointment?"

"Yes, Santana is going to help us sort our relationship out, remember?" She says, picking out clean clothes from her closet and then taking my backpack and handing me the extra pair of clothes I brought with me. "You can shower, here; then you can take me on that date."

I smile and look at her, "Really? Like in public?"

She giggles and nods, "Yes, if you still want to."

"Yeah! Of course, I still want to!" I practically explode with excitement. "Wait, don't you think that it's too soon to be going out? I mean, Finn _just_ found out."

"He probably already told everyone, anyway. I just want to be happy, today, and forget about everything else." She answers with confidence, while shoving me toward her bathroom. "Now, hurry before we're late."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"You're lucky I don't have any appointments within the next hour," Ms. Lopez huffs, as soon as we walk into her office.

"I told you we would be late, Rachel. Sorry, Ms. Lopez…Rachel _insisted_ on taking two showers," I apologize for us, blushing as I remember the way she forced herself into the shower while I was still inside.

"Thank you, Santana," She says, sitting down and pulling me with her.

"Yeah, whatever," the therapist says with a roll of her eyes, "I thought I told you not to have sex until you cleared things up."

"Well, we had a nice talk last night," Rachel explains, smiling at me.

"Is that right? What did you talk about, Quinn?" She asks, getting my attention.

"A lot…I mean, Rachel really opened up to me and I think I kind of understand why she wants to be in control, all the time."

The woman hums and nods, waiting for me to elaborate.

"Like…Well, she said that she wasn't very popular in school and people used to take advantage of her, so now, it makes sense that she needs to be dominant."

"Is that true, Rachel?" She asks the woman playing with the hem of her sweater.

"Yes, I never had control of my life, so I like to control Quinn…It helps that she likes it."

"Do you know why she likes it?" She settles back into her seat and watches Rachel shake her head. "Why don't you tell her, Quinn," she suggests and takes out her notepad.

I feel my face get warm with the attention being placed on me. This is something Rachel and I never talked about…for a reason. Until last night, neither one of us has explained why we like our roles in our relationship; it's only fair I confess, too.

"I used to think it was because I'm insecure, that I felt like I deserved to be treated like that…I mean, I know that's part of it, but mainly I think it's about trust, ya know?"

"What do you mean?" Rachel asks, rubbing my knee, encouragingly.

"I like that I can give myself up to you, completely, and that you push me to my limits, without really hurting me in a bad way. I like that I can trust you…I trust you with so much more than I thought; and when you do what you do I feel like you understand me and, in a weird way, accept me…Even though you were kind of mean sometimes, but it's different, now and it's okay."

"No, it's not," she replies. "I was mean to you, Quinn. All the anger I have inside from my past, the job I hate, the husband that I can't stand…I took it all out on you; and you let me. You took every slap, every kick, every insult, every bruise, every scar…Why? Why didn't you just walk away, Quinn?" She cries into her hands and leans away from me, ashamed.

"Because I fell in love with you…and before that I took it because you're hot...ridiculously so," I hug her and try to show her that there's no hard feelings.

"She's right, Quinn," Ms. Lopez interrupts. "It's not okay; and you shouldn't be so forgiving."

I turn and look at her with her notepad and pen, watching us like we're in a cage.

"It's my choice to forgive her, and I say it's the past," I reply a bit angrily. "It's not like it's her fault; I'm the one that kept coming back, so it's my fault for-"

"Do you understand what Stockholm Syndrome is? It's when a hostage becomes infatuated by the person who is taking them hostage."

"I know what it means, and it crossed my mind before, but it's more than that…I really do love her; I don't like to think that my love for her is just based on some kind of messed up syndrome. I'd do anything for her…" I turn to look back at Rachel, as she wipes her tears. "I think you'd do the same for me, right?"

She nods, instantly and I kiss her lips.

Ms. Lopez clears her throat and writes something down in her notepad. "I'm not saying that your love isn't real, Quinn. I'm just letting you know that because of your history, this relationship is going to be very difficult and intense, especially now, that Rachel's marriage is going to come to an end…right?" She questions, looking at Rachel.

"Yes, definitely!" She answers quickly and it makes me happy that I know she can't wait to be divorced from him…which makes me wonder what kind of person I am. I'm the kind of person who has an affair with another person's wife and then feels the happiest I've ever been when the marriage ends because I'll have her to myself.

"What's wrong, baby?" She holds my hand and squeezes it.

"I feel really bad for F-"

"No!" They both shout at me, shaking their heads in unison.

"You shouldn't feel bad; when it comes to him…It's my fault."

"It's both of your faults, actually," Ms. Lopez adds. "If you were that unhappy, Rachel, you know that you should have just left him from the beginning, instead of cheating on him. Quinn, you should have backed out as soon as you found out that she was married. You should both feel bad…but not _really_ bad because being honest, he is a horrible husband. Sure, he's a cool guy, he doesn't do drugs, he may drink but he's not an alcoholic, and he isn't abusive…but he is not the right one for you, Rachel. Every time Britt and I hung out with you guys, we could just see how miserable you two were. I think he's just hurt that you cheated on him first."

It's quiet for a while and I can't help but wonder if I could be the one for Rachel. It's obvious I'm a better fit for than Finn, but I want to last…I don't want her to get tired of me, like she did with him.

"Do you think that…Do you think maybe…I'm the one for her?"

Ms. Lopez sighs and sets her notepad down. "I think that if you two go slow and don't force anything or let your emotions run wild because of the situation you're both in…I think that yes, Quinn, you would be very good for Rachel…and vice versa. Also, you need to separate your bedroom roles, in the bedroom, relationships are supposed to be about equality. So, Rachel you can own her little white ass in bed, but remember that she should needs to be her own boss outside of that. And, Quinn, you need to keep in mind that Rachel will be stressed out, so if she needs space you give it to her, understand?"

We both nod and squeeze each other's hands, as a sign of support.

"Good…Now, get out of my office. I'm having Britt for lunch, I mean having lunch with Britt!" The therapist corrects herself, but not before we both laugh at her slip-up.

"Thanks, Santana," Rachel says, hugging her friend.

"Yeah, we appreciate it," I add, shaking her hand, until she pulls me into a hug.

"See, you back, here, in two days, you nutcase," She says with a smirk.

I roll my eyes playfully and let Rachel pull me away, "You owe me a date, Quinnie," she says leading me out of the office with a smile on her face.

**/END CHAPTER\**

****It's shorter than I wanted it to be, but next chapter will be better because it will be nothing but Faberry, no drama, no sad faces, just a nice happy date :) Also, a flashback that someone requested (hint it is something I mentioned a few chapters back, involving a photo.)**

**P.S. Thank you for your patience, Lovelies. I know I've been slacking, but I will try my best to get my groove back. **


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER 14:**

There's a reason for everything; that's what I like to tell myself, otherwise I'd be in an even less flattering position in life.

The sun is yawning and it shines warmly on our skin. She's humming a tune that I have never heard, her eyes closed, trusting me to lead and keep her safe. Another couple passes us, they smile soft smiles, as we exchange friendly gazes; it's beautiful…Just two couples acknowledging each other's happiness. I look down at our interlocked hands; I squeeze hers lightly and smile when it causes a small stutter in her humming because she couldn't help but smile, as well.

"We're almost there," I inform, only to laugh when she hums louder and more dramatically. She swings our joined hands like a pendulum, counting each second that we grow closer, without even having to say more than a handful of words to each other. I could stare at her for the rest of my life and be content in doing so, knowing I'll never be able to look at anything else this beautiful. Her features are no different than they were a week, or even a few days, ago, but her face is new. There is a glow to her, one that is outlasting the sun and I wonder, in this moment, if she is aware of the extent, to which I love her.

I lead us to the middle of the grassy field, just as the sun disappears below the horizon. I lift our hands in the air and softly twirl her into me until she giggles and rests her smile against my chest. Kissing the top of her head, I whisper for her to open her eyes and look up.

Her lashes flutter, as she adjusts to the night, before her eyes trail up my neck, to my smile, to my eyes, and finally to the open expanse of sky over us.

"Quinn…" she gasps like she needs me, while gripping the sides of my shirt, as if she'll collapse if she lets go. "It's so bright and beautiful."

"This is what I see when I look at you," I reply, smiling uncontrollably when the words bring her head back to its normal level. "You're a star, Rachel. Hearing and seeing you talk about your missed opportunity, last night, made me see you differently. You opened up to me and I brought you here so I can show you how much I believe in you."

She looks in awe of everything, overwhelmed with emotion, so I wrap my arms around her and hold her steady.

"Not one of those stars, up there, is as bright, or beautiful, or brilliant, as you, Rachel. You're going to follow your _real_ dream and I'm going to help you."

"Quinn, I can't-"

"Yes, you can, Rachel. I promise you that things will be better. I'm not going to sit and watch your life get turned upside down, for me, and not even lift a finger to help you or prove that the bumps in the road will be worth it. If you leave him…"

"_When_ I leave him…" She corrects, as I struggle to find the right words.

"_When _you leave him…I not only want you to feel liberated, I want you to feel like there is something better waiting for you."

"I think you've waited long enough," she says, kissing under my chin.

I kiss her nose and look into her eyes, seriously, "I mean, a career, a life…I'm going to finish the yard, which will raise the value of the house, even more, so maybe you can convince Finn to just keep the house and he can sell it if he wants to and keep all the earnings, as long as he doesn't ask for anything else in the divorce. I mean, it's a long shot, but I know he cares about you…and he's a good guy." I offer her a small smile, but she only closes her eyes and rests her head on my shoulder, letting me hold her.

"I don't really want to talk about the divorce, right now," she says, and steps back to let me lay out the blanket I brought for us.

After settling down on it, I grab her hand and watch her look up at the sky.

"Rachel?"

She hums and moves closer to me. "Yes, Quinnie?"

"Can you sing something for me? Please?" I can feel her body tense against mine, as she shifts uncomfortably. "You don't have to, if you don't want to. It's just I can tell that you're stressed, and sometimes, singing helps me when I'm stressed."

"It's not that I don't want to sing for you, I'm just...I don't know…"

"Shy?" I ask, kissing the side of her head. "What happened to having the ego of a Broadway Diva?"

She giggles and tries to hide her smile.

"Come on, just sing something that describes how you're feeling. Pretend all your problems are in front of you, and sing to them. Let it all out, Rach. I promise you'll feel better." I kiss her head, again, and hope that she'll open up to me some more, allow herself to be vulnerable and honest and brave. She's quiet for a few seconds as she stares up at the night above us, her eyes glistening, and I'm almost sure that she's not going to sing, when…

"_**Skies are crying; I am watching, catching teardrops in my hands/Only silence, as it's ending, like we never had a chance/Do you have to make me feel like there's nothing left of me?"**_

I feel her tremble and her back presses into my front; I wrap my arms around her, as she closes her eyes.

"_**You can take everything I have/You can break everything I am/Like I'm made of glass/Like I'm made of paper/Go on and try to tear me down/ I will be rising from the ground/Like a skyscraper/Like a skyscraper."**_

Her ribcage flexes with the deep breath she takes, not from exertion, but in preparation for the some fight she's been training her entire life for. She suddenly squeezes my hand, before getting to her feet, needing to distance herself from security and to stand and face the obstacles in her way.

"_**As the smoke clears, I awaken and untangle you from me/Would it make you feel better to watch me, while I bleed?/All my windows still are broken, but I'm standing on my feet/You can take everything I have/You can break everything I am/Like I'm made of glass/Like I'm made of paper/Go on and try to tear me down/I will be rising from the ground/Like a skyscraper/Like a skyscraper."**_

She's completely focused on channeling all her emotions into each word, as she sings into the night. Her voice is so much more confident, now, than it was during the first verse.

"_**Go run, run, run/I'm gonna stay, right here/Watch you disappear/Yeah, go run, run, run/Yeah, It's a long way down, but I'm closer to the clouds up here/You can take everything I have/You can break everything I am/Like I'm made of glass/Like I'm made of paper/Ohh Go on and try to tear me down/I will be rising from the ground like a skyscraper/Like a skyscraper/Like a skyscraper/Like a skyscraper…Like a skyscraper."**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Where am I?"

"My room, remember?" I answer with a smile, as she turns over on her back and runs a small hand over her sleepy face.

She hums grumpily, "Why aren't you laying next to me?"

I laugh, poking my head out of the clean shirt I slipped on. "I have a gig, _remember_?"

"Aw, no!" She groans and rolls back over, smashing her face into the pillow, dramatically.

"Hey, we're not that bad!" I joke, knowing the real reason why she's in disagreement. She guffaws into the pillow, in response. I slide under the blankets, again and kiss the back of her head and knead her hips, until she laughs and shows me her beautiful face.

"Besides… I was kind of hoping that, you know, maybe, you'd…I don't know…sing with us, tonight?" I ask, biting my lip, unsure of how she'll react.

Her smile fades and her eyes widen, "Oh no, I can't do that! I'm not ready for that! I don't think I'll ever be ready for _that_! I'm not good enou-"

"Rach!" I stop her from squirming away from me, in her panic. I pull her closer to me and kiss her red cheeks. "It's okay. You don't have to, if you don't want you. I didn't mean to put any pressure on you. I just think that you're wrong."

Her eyes dart up from my neck to my challenging stare. She looks at me like she does when she thinks I'm disobeying her orders.

"You _are _good enough, Rachel. Last night…You were so…I uh, I've never cried, just from hearing someone sing, before." I smile at her, holding back tears, from remembering the private performance, as her features soften and her cheeks brighten. "You were meant to awe people, Rachel; to touch people with your voice."

She smiles widely and tucks her head into the crook on my shoulder. "Thank you," she says cutely.

Rubbing her back, I let her relax, before I continue. "When you feel ready, again, the band will gladly let you join me on the mic, or even give you a solo." Her body stiffens at the suggestion. "But only when you're ready…And you will be ready. It's only a matter of time before a songbird, like you, finds her voice, again," I assure with enough confidence for the both of us.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"_**Well, tragedy's appealing; Disaster an addiction/Waiting for the good in everything/While the world keeps feeling there's safety in this distance/This painting, entertainment/Waiting for the good in everything/While the world keeps feeling…'Cause distance, with these problems/I'm not a failure, now/I'm not a failure, now."**_

Stepping up, behind Joe, I poke him with the neck of my guitar, as he looks back and returns the smile I give him, proudly, before starting the second verse. His vocals are clear and loud and so sure.

"_**Anxiety's misleading; it's kosher, yet revealing/Waiting for the good in everything/While the world keeps feeling/And shine a light down on this, and shine a light down on everyone, and everything we see/While the world keeps feeling…This distance, with these problems/I'm not a failure, now/I'm not a failure, now/Not a failure."**_

I love watching my band mates, my best friends enjoying themselves on stage. There's nothing holding them back; there's nothing stopping them from pouring everything they have out on the stage, in front of people, strangers…Yet, by the end of the last note, you feel as if they know you better than you think. I glance at the side of the stage, where Rachel is standing, watching, away from the crowd. She's smiling, as soon as her eyes meet mine. It's a genuine smile, but I know she was thinking about the words. She understands, she wants to feel that sense of freedom that Joe is singing about; the self-confidence, the fearlessness, wanting to prove everyone and herself wrong. I want all that for her, too.

"_**You wonder why, and realize what we're made of/Afraid of, afraid of, afraid of…/Afraid of failing, failing, now/In spite of this, in spite of…I'm not a failure, now/In the light of this, in the light of…/I'm not a failure, failing now."**_

The crowd cheers long after Joe finishes singing his last word. He bows and runs a hand over his head to push his locks back. Puck and I pat him on each of his shoulders, for a job well done, and Lauren raises her sticks up to him, in good praise.

I turn and see Rachel applauding and seeming anxious, as if she wants to jump on stage and hug everyone…or maybe it's her inner star trying to shoot her up here; either way, I think our next song will make it harder for her to stay away from the spotlight, for much longer.

"Alright, this will be our last song, for the night," I tell the dwindling crowd, as the last of the rowdy drunks disappear into the cold early morning. The handful of alcoholics left, stand by the bar as the bartender makes the last call. While they order their drinks, I tell my friends that they can get their free beers.

"I want to sing something…special…for Rachel." They nod and Joe smiles, a little more encouragingly, than Puck and Lauren, who are still a bit skeptical about her. Rachel smiles, awkwardly at them, but hugs Joe and congratulates him on leading the set, tonight.

As soon as I'm alone on the stage, I grab my acoustic and a stool. I sit facing the away from the front, toward Rachel, and smirk when she looks surprised, before blushing at the sudden direct attention.

The lonely drunks sit back in their spots and sip at the liquor in their glasses. It's dark in here, but in an odd way, it's perfect…a bit of sadness, a bit of mystery, a bit of romanticism…and then there's her.

"_**When the sun came up, we were sleeping in/Sunk inside our blankets, sprawled across the bed, and…/We were dreaming."**_

I can't keep the happiness from showing on my face, as she ducks her head shyly, as we both remember this morning, waking up from having spent the night before in the field. I carried her sleeping body to my truck and drove us back to my place, just before the sun came up. We slept the day away…our bodies tangled together.

"_**There are moments when, when I know it ends/The world revolves around us/And we're keeping it, keep it all going…This delicate balance/Vulnerable, all-knowing/**_

_**Sing like you think no one's listening/You would kill for this…Just a little bit, Just a little bit/You would/Sing like you think no one's listening/You would kill for this…Just a little bit, Just a little bit/You would, you would."**_

I sing to her, ignoring everyone else in the place, because I want her to feel something. I get up from my stool and kick push it away from the mic stand with my foot. I want her to feel the words, to feel the passion that I feel when I'm up here. I know she knows that feeling. I know she didn't forget how it felt when she was in her Glee club performing on stage for audiences, much bigger than ones found in a bar. I want her to feel envious, to want to be the one singing so freely. I know she wants to leave behind the drama and start over…to start over with me, taking chances and living life like she always dreamt. I know she didn't forget how it feels to sing from deep within herself, singing loud, singing soft…

"_**Sing me something soft; sad and delicate/Or loud and out of key; sing me anything/We're glad for what we've got/Done with what we've lost/Our whole lives laid out right in front of us.**_

_**Sing like you think no one's listening/You would kill for this…Just a little bit! Just a little bit!/You would!/Sing like you think no one's listening!/You would kill for this…Just a little bit! Just a little bit!/You would, you would!"**_

Opening my eyes, from having them shut while singing, I notice she is much closer than before. She's climbed the stage steps and is only two strides away. I motion with my head for her to come closer, to stand on the other side of the mic. She does…I slow the strumming of my guitar and allow the peaceful rhythm to pull her in, until she's merely inches from me; her mouth perfectly positioned to sing the last lines with me. I sing them slowly, so she can sing along, in that perfect voice of hers.

"_**Sing me something soft…sad and…delicate…Or loud and…out of key…Sing me…anything."**_

**/END CHAPTER\**

****Songs: **

**1) Demi Lovato – Skyscraper. **

**2) Moneen - If Tragedy's Appealing, Then Disaster's An Addiction. **

**3)Straylight Run – Existentialism on Prom Night.**

_**(All will be posted to my Tumblr page.)**_


	15. Chapter 15

****Okay, before any of you Lovelies decide to chew my head off, I want to say that I am sorry for taking so long to update. If you read any of my other stories, they, too, have been abandoned for some time, now. I'm not even going to bother with excuses because there are none…**

**Anyway, I hope this is the start of me getting my act back together and turning some chapters out weekly, as if used to happen. Still, it is far too early to tell, if that is the case. Nevertheless, I will definitely try to come up with a "Super Geek" update for Faberry Week theme 'nerd Quinn and Cheerio Rachel.' **

**Now, on we go…**

**CHAPTER 15:**

I see his car pull up, dangerously, into an empty space along the curb, and instantly regret meeting him, here…Where there's not many witnesses. His windows are slightly tinted, and with the street lights so dim, it doesn't help me feel any more comfortable about the guy sitting in the car. A few long seconds go by, before he cuts the engine and opens the door. His foot hits the street with an angry thud, as he begins to step out. I can't make out his expression, from this distance, but I don't need to, in order to know that he's not feeling any better about anything. I pull my hands out of my jacket pockets, quickly feeling the cold night nip at my skin. He slams his car door, roughly, and walks toward me; his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. I inhale a big gulp of chilly air and swallow it, with all the guilt bubbling up my throat like vomit. I take another glance around the darkened street and see a few people lingering around, speaking lowly amongst themselves. I'm hoping they're good Samaritans, for my own sake.

He suddenly looks bigger than he did a few nights ago, when he first handled me like a ragdoll; and as he closes in, I can finally see his scrunched up face.

"You have three minutes," he says, as he steps on the sidewalk, with his eyes not even giving me the time of day.

I practiced my speech all morning, making sure to go over the main points, several times, so I don't forget…Now? It all seems so phony and insensitive. I look him over and see that his face is motionless, stuck in a scowl, as he stares at the brick wall I was leaning on before he pulled up. He looks restless, disheveled, perhaps a little drunk, with the scruff shadowing his jaw and frown. I look at his hands; his knuckles turn white when he makes them into massive fists. I look at his clothes, a flannel and jeans. I look at the guy that was calling me his friend, his buddy, someone he can hang with and not worry about anything. I look at the guy and I hate myself for what I did to him…to his marriage.

"_Two minutes_." He says, not looking at me, but blinking several times, and taking a deep, agitated breath. I sigh and push back the loose strands of hair sticking out from under my hood. "C'mon, say something!" He yells, abruptly, finally looking me in the eye. The anger in them sends a chill through me and I momentarily consider making a run for it, but it's no time to be a coward. I owe him some kind of explanation, apology, anything; and if he decides to knock me out halfway through, then at least I know I deserve it. I straighten my back and pull my hood down, prepared to be completely honest with him, tell him anything he wants to know, except…

"Finn…I don't even know where to start."

"Why don't you start with telling me how long, this has been going on?!" He loudly suggests, as he steps closer.

I look around, nervously, and see that the lingerers are now gone. "I don't think it really matters at this poi-"

"HOW LONG, FABRAY?!" He shouts over me.

"Seven months, now…Probably."

He immediately scoffs and shakes his head.

"Finn, I'm sorry. I know it doesn't change anything, but-"

"You really think that I came here to listen to you say that you're _sorry_?" He asks, incredulously. "I came here to tell you that you better stay the Hell away from me and _my_ house! And you can bet that you won't have a job when you go into work tomorrow, not after I tell your boss that you were screwing your client! Who's married; if you haven't noticed?!" His voice hits harder in the cold, as he towers over me.

_Fuck._

He laughs at the shocked look on my face, "You actually thought you weren't going to lose anything? You're a real piece of work, Fabray," he eyes me with belittlement; before he shakes his head and turns on his heel, to leave.

I feel a panic rise in me, how did I not see this coming. I really am a piece of work…or shit, to be honest. I deserve it, whatever he throws at me. An eye for an eye, I always believed. Truth be told, I feel like I deserve much worse than just losing my job. I made him lose his wife; and if I ever lost Rachel like Finn has, I'd lose it all – everything.

"Finn, I'm not going to stand here and tell you that you're being unfair!" I yell out at him; my voice echoing off his broad back. He stops walking, but doesn't turn to face me. "I had that coming, I admit it. Actually, we both know I deserve more than that. If it were the other way around, I'd probably beat the crap out of you…ruin everything good in your life." Staring at my feet, I miss seeing him turn back around. I don't notice him close proximity until his own feet are in my line of vision. Looking up at him, I continue, "I'm just trying to be honest with you, Finn."

"Like you should've been from the beginning," he bites out.

I nod, "Yes. You're being really cool about this, at least when compared to how I imagined this talk would go…Which makes me feel really guilty, _more guilty_."

"You should feel that way, Fabray." He says, sounding more hurt than angry. "Why didn't you tell me? I mean, all this time you were in my house having sex with my wife and then lying to my face and acting like my best friend? That's way low, dude."

"I know. Despite what you think, I did consider you a friend. That's why I feel like crap; I didn't mean for it to happen like this, Finn. I expected you to be a total douche bag; I came in, wanting to hate you, wanting to find a million things to point at say, _that's why Rachel should be with _me, but I couldn't. Do you know why?" I ask, stepping to the side to catch his eyes. His brow furrows with confusion. "I couldn't because you're not a douche bag. You're not some abusive, violent drunk, or a cheating asshole…You're just…Not the one." Before his confusion can turn into offense, I finish, "And she's not the one, for you, either. I mean, you can't stand, here, and tell me that you didn't know that, even if it was just a little thought in the back of your mind, or real fucking deep down in your heart, Finn. I'm not saying you guys never cared or even loved each other; I'm just saying that you two have different paths in life. Don't you want to meet a woman that will love the business life as much as you do, or at least supports your choices, someone that will make you really want to impress them, and not just with money, someone that will change you into the man that I know you can be. The kind of guy that supports the woman he loves, and remembers the important things she says; the kind of guy that doesn't feel like he needs to go out and be away from home to have a good time, but instead feels like he needs to be with that woman to be truly happy. I know you want that, Finn…You _deserve_ that."

"Why are you telling me this?" He croaks out, pushing the heel of his palms against his watering eyes.

"I'm telling you this because it's not just sex, Finn…The funny thing is, before I actually met you, I told myself that I wouldn't give two shits about you. You were just the guy that was in the way, the reason why I couldn't have her, _completely_. The guy that had it all…The guy that I envied. I kept thinking, man, if I were this guy I'd give Rachel everything and anything she ever wanted. I'd buy her fancy things, take her fancy places, and show her off to everyone and anyone; I'd be so lucky and grateful and proud to call her my wife. I'd do and be all of those things for her, but most of all I'd love her, unashamedly, devotedly, and with all that I have because I've never – Never in my entire life, Finn…Never have I been so in love with anyone or anything. I love her; and no matter how guilty and horrible and disappointed I feel for hurting you, I will only love her more because I know that I lost some good things because of her, so that should tell me, _and you_, how much she means to me…I'm telling you this because I will rather, sadly, say goodbye to my job and to you, _my friend_, and anything else you want to take from me, than say goodbye to Rachel." I finish with a heavy breath, nearly gasping for the chilly air. This is taking a lot out of me and seeing his crumpled up, tear-stained face, looking back at me, I find myself fighting back my own tears.

"You're right, Fabray," he says after blinking away some tears. "Me and Rachel aren't right for each other, but that's not an excuse to screw her behind my back!" He coughs out. "She may not be the one for me and I'm probably not the one for her, but it still hurts and I still get to hate you!"

I nod in sympathetic understanding, feeling myself redden with shame and the urge to cry.

"And if I want to get you fired I can!" He says, with a sob, "And if I want to – I dunno! Kick you in the balls I can because that's what guys do when they want to make someone else feel just as bad as they do and you deserve it and I deserve to do it to you so I don't care if you're a chick, you have balls so I should be able to kick them because you fucked my wife and took her away and you were my friend and, and, and I hate you and I, I-"

"Finn!" I shout over his overemotional rant, I grab his shoulders to steady his heaving frame, as he tries to compose himself. When he's a little calmer, I let go and step back, enough for him to swing his foot at me. He looks at me with confusion and wipes at his eyes, again. With an already regretful sigh, I stand straight, part my legs, make my hands into fists, and make eye-contact… "Go ahead…"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"You let him what?!"

"I had to! He was crying!" I explain, trying to lie down on my bed, but with my three bandmates sitting on it, it's difficult to do so. Instead, I slump down against the wall and cradle my still throbbing parts.

"So you basically snuck out to get your balls kicked?" Lauren asks, incredulously. "Couldn't you have gone to Rachel for that?" She adds with a bitchy smirk.

I flip her off with my free hand, "All of you," I say, as Puck and Joe high-five her and laugh along.

"Jokes aside, Q," Puck starts. "That's some crazy shit. Does Rachel know that he's going to-"

"That who's going to what?" The short brunette says, barging in, unexpectedly. Everyone immediately springs to their feet, including myself, with some difficulty. She raises an eyebrow at my friends, as her eyes move over to me, against the wall, looking sick and pale.

"Quinn? What happened?" She asks, shoving past Joe, before anyone can even ask her how she got in, anyway. She's in front of me, in the blink of an eye, and cradling my face with one hand and running the other through my fussy hair. "Tell me what happened, now, Quinn." She demands then looks over her shoulder at my friends, who immediately scurry out…Lauren laughing all the way.

"I went to talk to Finn." I answer in barely a whisper.

Her eyes widen, before she closes them slowly and breathes heavily through her nose. A habit she has when she's trying to reel in her anger. "_Why_?" She asks, as her eyes reopen and narrow in on my nervous ones.

"I needed to – He deserved an explanation, an apology." I reply, feeling guilt bubble up, again.

"I told you to let him be and we'll deal with him, and whatever he decides to do, _together_." She says, challenging my obedience.

"I know, but it wasn't just about us, Rach…" I try to explain, but falter when I realize how absurd this all is. Here, I am, about to defend Finn against Rachel. "It was about me and Finn." I say with confidence.

She stares at me, eyes squinted, lips twisted in suspicion. "Hahaha, you're joking!" She laughs and turns around, walking to the door and opening it, revealing my bandmates, who were obviously leaning against the door, eavesdropping.

I throw my hands up at them, even though Rachel continues walking past them, to the kitchen, grabs a bag she must've left on the counter, and walks back into the room, shutting the door on their unmoved faces.

"I bought some treats for you, if you're up for another photo shoot," she says, giving me a lustful smirk.

A different throbbing begins, in my lower region, it hurts deliciously; but this is a serious matter and I have to tell Rachel what Finn plans on doing.

"Rach, as much as I'd love that, I don't think I can, right now. Not when I'm hurting." I reply, pointing at my, probably, bruised balls.

"What are you talking about," she says with a giggle and a dismissive shake of her head, as she sits on my bed, back against the headboard and pulls out a can of whipped cream and holds it up for me to see. "I got that strawberry syrup you like, too, Quinnie," she says, shifting around the other mysterious items in the bag, "And a few new things…"

"Rach…ireallydidgotalktofinnandiap ologizedandexplainedhowyoutw owerenevermeanttobetogethera ndthathedeservedawomanthatwo uldmakehimhappierandthatirea llydidthinkofhimasafriendand thatswhyimfeelingsoguiltyand horribleandhewascryingandiwa ntedtocrysoilethimkickmeinmy ballsandireallydowanttoplayp hotoshootwithyoubutitstillhu rtsandistillfeelguiltyandims osorrypleasedontbemadatme!" I blurt out in a string of jumbled up words.

Her face is blank, as she sets the bag and its items on the floor, before slowly getting off the bed and walking toward my shaking frame. She senses my nervousness and obvious fear and slowly…torturously…raises her hand up to my face.

I close my eyes and get ready for a hard slap, definitely not expecting the soft patting of my cheek. "Is that all?" She asks, rubbing my flushed face.

"…No," I whimper out and move my head away from her too kind touch.

She grabs my hand, leads me to the bed, laying us both down on it, so that she's on top of me. "Tell me," she says pushing some bangs out of my wide eyes.

"He's um…I'm going to lose my job and I don't know if I'll be able to get another one."

"What – How – He can't-"

"He is, Rachel. He's going to tell my boss I was having an affair with a married client and-"

"Not without proof!" She cuts me off loudly, angrily, her beautiful brow curved in disapproval.

"He doesn't need proof…Because I'm not going to defend myself against his complaint."

"Quinn, you can't just let him take away your job like that!" She shouts, getting off me and running a hand through her hair with a huff.

"I have to."

"You don't have to, Quinn! I can understand if you hated your job, like I hate mine. Sure the financial loss is going to suck, but I can find a job that will make me happier, but you…You love what you do and you were lucky enough to have a business hire you with your record. Plus, Finn will get me fired, too, then we'll both be out of work, then what?"

"That won't happen…" I reply, covering my face.

"You don't know Finn and what he's capable of, Quinn!" She yells, pulling my hands back down. "Look at me! You're not going to let him get you fired; I'll go down there myself and deny his statement and-"

"No!" I yell back, sitting up and looking her in the eye. "We made a deal…"

She stares at me with no clue, "I don't understand."

"After he kicked me, before he walked away I said…

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"And what about Rachel?" I shout at him, as I kneel on the concrete, holding myself.

He turns his massive body around and looks down at me. "What about her?"

"You can't ruin her life, Finn. I won't let you. Taking my job away will destroy me; I'm being honest with you. I can't get hired anywhere else, not with my past. I'll be poorer than I already am. They'll take the truck back since it was for work, I won't even have a phone, I won't be able to pay my rent, or buy food. As much as Rachel tells me that she doesn't care about that kind of stuff, I won't be able to keep her…Not if I sink lower than I already am. Love won't be enough." I try to get up, but I'm in too much pain, so I give up and bury my face in my hands. "She'll leave me, I know she will. So, if you really want to get revenge, you'll get me fired, go on with the divorce, keep the house, but don't get Rachel fired because she's already planning on quitting, and it'll just make you look bad in front of your colleagues. I'll be out of a job, but I'll finish the yard, for free, I'll get you a fountain that isn't engraved with your names, then you can decide if you want to keep or sell the place. Just please…You'll be the better person for it."

I hear his shoes scuff against the cement, as he steps closer, until he pokes my leg with his toe. I uncover my wet face and it takes a lot to look him in the eye and beg him, while on my knees… "Please…"

His face scrunches up, in pity, disgust, I'm not sure, but knowing he's a good guy I pray he thinks it over before doing anything to hurt Rachel.

"I am better than you, Fabray…See, I want you to hurt like I do and I know it will hurt you more to see Rachel's life fall apart; and even though I can pull one string and make that happen…I won't. I won't do it because she _was_ my wife and you _were_ my friend. To some people, that actually means something…So, I'll leave her alone, the divorce will go smoothly, I won't ask for anything, but the house. You're jobless, but you finish the yard, for free, like you said; and the rest is up to you two. I'm doing this, not to be a bad guy, but because it's what's fair…I shouldn't be the only one to lose and be cheated. Goodbye, Fabray."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

She's silent for a long moment, before groaning and bringing her hands together, in front of her face, as if she's praying. "Quinn, what the hell were you thinking?!"

"I was thinking about you!" I respond back. "What's done is done, there's no point in arguing about it." I add, wanting to get this discussion over with.

"What are we supposed to do, now? How are we supposed to get to New York, if neither of us have jobs?!"

"You still have a job, he said he wasn't going to go after you like he is with me." I remind her.

"You really think I can stay there for much longer? No way! Not when they find out what happened, I'll be outcasted, they'll find a reason to fire me before I save enough money to get us out of here!"

"Well, at least I talked him out of it! What have you done?! Nothing! You haven't done anything, Rachel! If I didn't go talk to him we'd both be jobless tomorrow, we'd both be broke, and we'd both be homeless soon! And even though he's keeping the house, you still have your mom and your neighbors. I don't have anything. Lauren has money but the new apartment plan won't work with me being jobless, and who's going to hire me?!"

"And whose fault is that, Quinn?!" She yells back, angrily. "If you weren't such a fuck up, before-"

Before, I can even fully react to what she said; Rachel is already apologizing, grabbing my face and kissing it, while I process her words.

"Stop it."

"Quinn, I didn't mean-"

"I said, stop it, Rachel," I repeat, plucking her hands off me and making my way to the door.

"Quinn!" She pleads, as I swing open the door, just as my friends are scurrying away. I shake my head and walk past their worried faces, and out the main door, slamming it shut on another plea.

**/END CHAPTER\\\**

****So, there it is…A little shorter than I wanted it to be, but I'm barely getting back into this writing thing, I didn't want to force it. It's been a while, so I forgive you if you tell me that it's garbage and I should quit while I'm ahead! Until next time, Lovelies!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16:**

I'm not surprised when Rachel calls me, as soon as I step out of the apartment building, when I refuse to listen to her shout for me in the halls. I'm not surprised that she leaves me two voicemails and several long text messages about I don't know what – I ignore them all and turn off my phone. I much rather be alone with my thoughts, right now…And with alcohol because that's what fuck-ups do when they get yelled at and are reminded of how fucked up they are…They drink and fuck up more things in their life.

"How's it going Q? Where's the rest of the gang?" The owner and main bartender asks, as soon as I settle on the stool.

"Fuck if I know."

He doesn't say anything for a second, but he looks at me with a worried expression. He's probably wondering if the bar's house band is already about to do the splits, so early into our contract.

"Everything rock n roll between you guys?" He finally asks, as he wipes the bar down.

I nod, not wanting to worry the guy who's paying me. "Yeah, it's not that…Just some other stuff," I reply, while I dig in my pockets for some money. I pull out ten bucks, slide it toward him, and say, "Give me the strongest drink I can get with this."

He looks at me and slides the bill back. "Your drinks are on the house, tonight."

"Johnny, I can't let you do that." I respond shaking my head and sliding the money back in his direction.

He laughs, picks up the ten dollars, and puts it back in my hand. "Just keep bringing in the crowds with your music and we're good, alright?"

Smiling, I say "Alright, thanks, Johnny. I gotta warn you, though…I'm no lightweight."

The guy leans over and pats my shoulder. "You haven't tried my drink, yet, have you?" When I shake my head he laughs and starts pouring and mixing several hard liquors into one big shot glass. "You're in for a treat, then."

I sit and watch Johnny's tricks as he flips and twirls bottles in his hands, so quickly that I can't even make-out half the labels. I just look at the streams of liquor filling the glass and gulp when he pours the mixture into an even bigger glass, squirts some lime juice into it, and mixes it before sliding it in front of me with a cocky smile. "What exactly do you call it?" I ask, a bit hesitate as I wrap my hand around the glass.

His grin gets impossibly bigger, "What's the name of the girl that made you come to the bar at twelve-thirty midnight?"

My eyes jump up from the glass to Johnny, only to find that he's smiling, but seriously expecting an answer. Sighing I slump my shoulders and drag my eyes back to the drink.

"Okay, look," he says, grabbing another glass and pouring himself some whiskey. "I'm not one of those bartenders that like to listen to everyone's problems. I'm no therapist and I give shitty advice. So, when _mopey lovers,_ like you, crawl in here in the middle of the night - obviously heart-broken – I don't ask for a full story and I don't lend no ear; I just make them this drink and I ask them one simple question: What's the name of the girl that made you come to the bar at twelve-thirty midnight?" He leans both hands on the bar and stares at my solemn expression. I'm not big on talking about this kind of drama either. I came here to drink and forget about all that…about her; but I can't ignore him if he's giving me free drinks and a place to play music for money.

After a few seconds I sit up and look back at him, trying hard not to show how miserable I am… "Rachel."

Johnny nods, as if he can read it all over my face, and slowly pushes himself off the bar, grabs his whiskey and lifts his arm halfway. I question him with a confused look, but raise my glass to his, anyway, and when our glasses clank against each other, Johnny says, with another toothy grin, "…To your first Rachel."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Not even halfway through my second "Rachel" I'm already trying not to slip off my stool like a drunken idiot. Johnny laughs at me and reaches over the bar to pat my rolling head, as I try and fail at not keeping the liquor from dribbling out of my mouth when I groan. If I wasn't so out of it, I would be embarrassed at how quickly I got to this state of, well…drunken idiot.

Johnny hands me a few napkins and I wipe my chin clean of "Rachel" before taking another big gulp and feeling defeated when I still cringe at the strong taste burning down my throat. "Uugghh! Fucking shit, man," I say trying to keep it together, while patting my chest as if it'll help the air move through my lungs faster.

Johnny laughs, again, clearly enjoying watching me turn into a sloppy mess. "So, now do you know why I asked for her name?" He smirks and wipes down the bar where the liquor spilt from my mouth.

I take another drink and rub at my throat, with my tongue sticking out, probably looking like a complete weirdo. I clear my throat and massage my already pounding head, "Because if Rachel were a drink this would be it," I reply a bit groggily.

"And why's that?" Johnny asks, the corners of his mouth nearly reaching his ears.

"Because they both got me _all _fucked up."

"Ahhaha! Bingo!" He replies, smacking my shoulder and practically knocking me off my stool. The quick unsteady movement almost makes me want to puke right then and there, but I much rather not do that in front of the man that basically owns the band.

"Clever," I remark, and maneuver myself back onto my seat and give him a smile because sarcasm aside it is pretty clever.

"Hell yeah, it is! And you know what? When you wake up I promise you'll never want another Rachel, as long as you live, Q!" He laughs some more and even harder when I shake my head – not amused. "Just trust me. This was for your own good. And don't worry you should only have a weak buzz by the time you play tomorrow night," he smacks me again and is about to laugh some more, but stops and whispers, "Hey, Q…You know that guy over by the door?"

I grunt an "I don't care," but Johnny places his heavy palm on the top of my head and turns it until I can see a large figure that seems to be looking at me from across the bar. "_Crap._" I say, ducking and trying to hide, which is really stupid and pointless when there's nothing to hide behind, so I drunkenly try to remove Johnny's sasquatch hand off my head and I end up losing my balance on the stool and it's enough for me to fall to the bar floor with a heavy thud. Landing on my back nearly knocks the wind out of me and I groan and roll over on my side like a sad, pathetic drunk. I think I hear Johnny ask if I'm alright between hardy laughs, but I'm more focused on the recognizable shoes that are now by my head. It feels like déjà-vu – a scene that only happened a few hours ago, which ultimately lead to that blow-out with Rachel and me ending up here. Looking up, I'm not surprised to see Finn towering over me and I'm not going to lie – It's intimidating. I quickly sit up and get to my feet hoping I can stand without losing my balance, again. I feel myself wobble and it's like vertigo, but way worse, so when my legs buckle and everything starts to sway, I try to reach behind me to grab the stool or the bar, but instead I'm pulled back up by the intimidating man.

"How much did you drink?" He asks with a more curious tone than a judgmental one.

I hear Johnny still laughing and saying, "She'll be alright, I'm glad she has a friend here, though."

If I wasn't so discombobulated and holding onto Finn's arm I'd turn around and tell Johnny to shut up and to not call this guy my friend. How can he be my friend when I had an affair with his wife, then befriended him and lied about the whole thing to his face?! How can he be my friend when I am such a fuck up that I can't even say that I'm a better choice for Rachel and _that's_ why I did what I did?! How can he even consider me a decent human being, let alone a friend? All that comes rushing back to me and I feel that familiar guilt and shame punch me in my face and stomach and in my chest and I stagger to get a solid footing and squirm away from Finn's hold.

"I'm fine!" I bite out, brushing myself off and realizing that I can barely feel my hands and my arms feel like spaghetti noodles and it's like a million degrees in here. The last thing I want to do is feel like this and then let Finn witness it. "Johnny, thanks for the drinks and I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" I tell him, while making my way to the door. I think I hear him laugh and say "Remember what I said about waking up!" but once I open the door and the cool night breeze hits my face and my sleeveless arms, I sag against the doorway and feel myself being carried to the band room by the stage.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I don't think I'm actually falling asleep – Maybe I'm just blinking in really slow motion…

"Finn?" I think I say rather clearly, but actually it comes out as a slur and it drags out longer than it should – Kind of like "Fhhhhinnnn?"

"Fabray, you're drunk…You know that, right?"

"What? Where's Rachel?" I mindlessly ask, as if he wouldn't take offense. As if he wouldn't be thinking that he can't believe that I'd have the balls to ask that right here and right now. As if he doesn't think that I'd probably have a better idea of where Rachel is than he does.

"I guess not," he says under a heavy breath as he tries to catch me before I slip off the couch, being that I lose all ability to control my sad, sad, sad body when I'm pathetically drunk. It's the thud of my ass on the cold, hard floor that gives me a moment of clarity.

"Fuck. I fucking fucked shit up."

"Kind of why I'm here, too," he replies.

"Huh?"

"What?"

"Ugh."

"Dude."

"I don't umderstand!" I shout, quite louder than I meant to.

"Fabray, calm down, alright…You're safe here," my girlfriend's…not really girlfriend…Is she my girlfriend?...Well, her ex…Excuse me, soon to be ex-husband replies…

"Don't you like…I don't know…Hate me or something?" I mean, because seriously. I'd hate me if I were him. I mean I hate me, right now, even though I am me!

He looks at me through squinted eyes full of concern and honestly it throws me off, but not any more than when he says, "I don't hate you, Qui – I mean Fabr – I mean..._Quinn_…I don't hate you, Quinn." I quickly pull myself back up and sit on the couch, as if his words have sobered me entirely in just mere seconds.

"Did you just call me…" I trail off, afraid to even say my own name, at the moment.

"Quinn…" he finishes for me. "Yeah, I did call you Quinn because that's your real name. That's what everyone else calls you…You know your friends and…she calls you Quinn, too, so…"

I meet his own confused look and I find no indication on his face that he knows what he's talking about, either. His mouth twists up as he puts his hands in his pants pockets and gives a boyish shrug, "Alright, look… I'm just trying to be…I mean…" he sighs and shakes his head at his inability to string the right words into a sentence. "I'm not mad at you – at least not as mad as I was before. You know?" When I don't respond, due to being utterly confused about what's happening, he rubs his tired face and takes the few steps toward the couch and slowly sits beside me. There's enough space between us for me to turn my head to look at him, without it being more awkward than this whole scene already is. I don't even know what to make of all of this. I should be thrilled that he isn't as angry with me anymore. Seriously, I basically backstabbed him and lied to his face, while I had an affair with his wife! And here he is…Telling me that he's not that upset and calling me by my real first name – The name his wife calls me – The name his wife said out loud when she was in bed with him. Not to mention that he's right freaking here and he's not taking advantage of my drunken state by pummeling me with his fists, not that he even needs an advantage. Come on, I should _definitely_ be thrilled…Except I'm not.

I turn to look at him, again, and he's not looking back. He's sitting slightly hunched over, with his elbows on his lap and his eyes on his hands, as he plays with his wedding band. His brow is pinched and he looks like he's trying to hold back a heavy flood of words, before he just gasps a tired breath and yanks off his ring with finality. He holds the band between his thumb and index finger, examining the heavy wear on it and how dull it looks. After a few seconds he lets out a humorous puff of air and shakes his head; and turning to meet my eyes briefly, he shows me the ring. "Kind of like a…What does she say? Like a metaphor? Or more like a symbol? For our marriage, I mean. And the funny thing is, it's not all fucked up because I have a hard job, you know? Like a job like yours, where you have to use your hands to lift stuff up and build things and use tools…I have a job that keeps my hands clean and safe. And it's not like it's a cheap ring, either. I just didn't take care of it. I'd always take it off when I hung out with the guys. I'd leave it on dirty bars and tables and we'd slam our beer bottles on it by mistake. Or we'd drop it on accident and we'd be stepping on it or kicking it around under the table and I wouldn't notice until I had to go home and I'd find it wedged in a bottle cap on the floor. Sometimes, I'd take it off at work, when new interns came to the office. Most are younger chicks and they look at me like I'm somebody important, you know? And I guess I liked that. I never cheated on her, though…It was just cool to know that other women found me good-looking. Well, anyway…One time, I was in my office, shredding up some papers with that shredding machine thing, you know what I'm talking about and so my buddy comes running in and tells me that I need to come check out the hot intern coming down the hall and...And I don't know why, but I took my ring off so fast that it slipped off and fell right fucking into shredder. I mean, right fucking in there. Of course it didn't go all the way through, but it was stuck and the damn machine kept revving, trying to eat up the ring and I'm like fucking shit, you know?" He looks at me with disbelief, as if he's reliving the moment and he shakes his head. "I finally got the thing out and it was all chipped and scratched and it was pretty banged up, as you can tell…Anyway, when I got home, I figured she'd notice and she'd ask me what happened and I figured I'd make up some story on the spot, but…She never noticed. Or she did notice, but didn't care enough to ask…And I guess I didn't care enough to bring it to her attention." He looks away, at the wall across the room, and seems to be in deep thought. "So, how can I be mad at you for caring so much about something that I never cared enough about?"

I can tell that he isn't really looking for me to reply, so I stay quiet and I look away when he places the worn out ring on the table beside his end of the couch.

There's a long awkward silence between us, while we both look around the room. The last time we were both in here was when Finn found out about me and Rachel and pretty much kicked my ass and nearly brought me an inch away from death when he put me in at headlock. The memory alone makes me short of breath and I pat my chest and cough, trying extra hard to remember to breathe correctly. The harsh coughs hurt my side, where he slammed me into the table by the door and I unconsciously rub at my sore ribs.

As if he can read my mind he shifts in his spot and reaches across the space between us and pats my back like he used to, before the shit hit the fan. "Sorry, about the whole…choking you and trying to break you in half…thing." I turn to look at him and he certainly looks sincere and truly remorseful about the incident. He pats me, again and it's awkward, which is why he gives me a one-sided smile that looks more like he's cringing at the memory of it.

I smile and shake my head, "Don't be. We both know I deserved it." I reach over and playfully hit his leg. "And come on, I almost wish someone recorded it, because you know that shit would be funny as hell to watch," I laugh when he finally cracks a smile and nods along.

"Yeah, maybe a little funny," he replies with a small chuckle.

"More than a little, man. Especially, with everybody yelling and crying and I probably looked like I was gonna shit my pants!" I exclaim. "For a second I thought I was going to!"

He laughs whole-heartedly at that and shakes his head, probably in disbelief at how we're able to make jokes about the incident so soon after. "I'm glad you're alright, though. I didn't mess you up too bad?" He asks, glancing over at me, trying to appear not so concerned.

"Nah, I'm good…Sore, but good."

"Cool."

More silence fills the room, but it's not as awkward as before. It's kind of nice.

"So…What brought you to the bar?" I ask, wondering why he showed up in the first place, knowing that chances are I'd be here, since this is basically my spot, what with being part of the house band and all.

He shrugs and tilts his head not sure of the answer, himself. "I don't know. I was at home and it didn't feel like home, anymore. I needed to get out, you know?" He turns to look at me and I'm positive that I have a stupid guilty look on my face. Whether he notices or not he doesn't say, he just changes the subject. "What about you? I mean, I know you play here, but where's the rest of the band?"

I shrug, "Home, I guess. We don't have a gig tonight, but I…" I'm not sure if I should mention the argument with Rachel to him. It seems really selfish and inconsiderate so I just say "…I just needed to get out, too." He gives me a suspicious look, like he knows there's more to it, but he doesn't try to force it out of me.

"I get it," he says and sits back and lets out a heavy sigh. "It's been a long last couple of days, huh?"

"Hell yeah," I reply, as I get up and go to the mini fridge and thank the lord that there's beer stocked inside. I grab two and sit back on the couch, handing one to Finn, who gratefully takes it. We both take long gulps and let out sounds of satisfaction when we both almost finish half of our cans.

"We can still be cool, right?" he asks, not looking at me, but suddenly taking interest in the beer in his hand. "I mean, we can be friends?" He finally looks up at me from his drink, only to look back down when he sees that I'm already looking at him. "It's just that I don't have many friends…Real friends. Friends I can actually be myself, around." He coughs into his empty hand and his face reddens. "I mean, other than you lying to me and sleeping with my wife…You're pretty cool. I liked hanging out with you and your friends. I feel like I missed that opportunity in my life. You know, to have fun and not have to jump right into being a grown-up. I never got to join a band, even though I love playing the drums and I wish I could get up on a stage and rock out like you guys do. I was honestly jealous of you when I first saw you perform. You were so bad-ass and that chick was all over you and I felt like that could've been me. I just think I grew up too fast and maybe that's why I made such a crappy husband…" he takes another swig of his beer, "…Or maybe I'm just making excuses for being a crappy husband. I don't know…I just feel like I want to feel free from all of it and I don't want to keep feeling like this; and being around you and them, I feel like myself and I'm happy."

There's a lot going on in my head, by the time he's done talking; and I'm trying to figure out what to say first, when he gets anxious and embarrassed about his confession.

"I mean, if you don't want to be cool after all this then yeah, I get it. I'm just letting you know that I'm not mad, anymore…And I'm not going to get you fired and all that other stuff I said I was going to do. I want to be over this whole thing and I realized it's not going to make me feel any better if I take everything away from you and her. It'll just make me feel worse."

I take a long chug of my beer and I run my free hand over my shocked face. This guy…Finn… "Dude…" I turn to face him and he looks nervous. "I was right when I told myself that you were a good guy. That's why I felt so bad about everything. I still feel like a fucking asshole, yet here you are being the nicest fucking person and you don't even have to. I was expecting you to come in and kick the shit out of me, again, but instead you're asking if we can still be cool?" I shake my head in disbelief. "I swear there were a bunch of times when I felt like I was betraying a real friend…Because I was. And I meant everything I told you earlier in the street, when I said that I considered you a friend and that's why I felt like crap…And I still do, especially, now. And I meant it when I said that you deserve a better wife…I just forgot to say that you deserve a better friend, too; and that it's going to suck losing you…" I then reach my free hand over to him and fold it into a fist, which he bumps with his own fist, after a few seconds. We both smile like a couple of dumbasses and clank our beers together. "But, I'm really fucking glad that I don't have to."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"_**Fell in love with a girl/ Fell in love once and almost completely/ She's in love with the world/ But sometimes these feelings can be so misleading/ She turns and says are you alright?/ I said I must be fine because my heart's still beating/ Come and kiss me by the riverside/ Bobby says it's fine, he don't consider it cheating!" **_ We both sing out loud, as we play on the old band equipment on the stage. I'm bouncing around with the guitar and seriously…Finn wasn't kidding when he said he loved playing the drums. Honestly, I'm surprised that he's actually really good, but watching him bang it out like he is, it's obvious that he knows what's he's doing.

"_**Red hair with a curl, mellow roll for the flavor/ And the eyes were peeping/ Can't keep away from the girl/ These two sides of my brain need to have a meeting/ Can't think of anything to do/ My left brain knows that all love is fleeting/ She's just looking for something new/ And I said it once before, but it bears repeating!" **_We're both smiling by now and I can tell that we're feeding off each other's energy. I feel like the whole bar is vibrating with how strong our sound is, even though it's empty, since Johnny left us the keys to lock up…Yeah, he trusts me like that! Anyway, I can't help but stand by the drums and watch Finn play as we continue.

"_**Fell in love with a girl/ Fell in love once and almost completely/ She's in love with the world/ But sometimes these feelings can be so misleading/ She turns and says are you alright?/ I said I must be fine because my heart's still beating/ Come and kiss me by the riverside/ Bobby says it's fine, he don't consider it cheating!/ Can't think of anything to do/ My left brain knows that all love is fleeting/ She's just looking for something new/ And I said it once before, but it bears repeating!/**_

"Hell yeah!" I shout immediately after we finish the song, at the exact same moment, which is surprising considering that we've been drinking for a while, now.

"That was so kick ass!" He says with a big grin, as he stands up and hi-fives me.

"Dude, we have to play another song because we are damn smooth together!" I say, jumping up and down on my toes because I'm so hyped up, right now.

"I know, right!" He laughs, sits back down, and stretches out his arms, as he thinks of another song. "How about –"

"How about someone tells me what's going on here?" A voice interrupts from behind me. I don't have to see the look on Finn's face to know who it is…

I turn and find her standing in the middle of the floor, watching us with nothing but confusion and a hint of betrayal on her face. I notice the way her petite frame shivers under both of our guilty stares…

"Shit…" I mumble under my breath.

**/END CHAPTER\**


End file.

Glee, Drama, Romance