Disclaimer: If I actually owned Glee, Quinn would have far more screen time, and Mr. Schuester would be shirtless at least once an episode. Preferably while singing directly into the camera so I can pretend he's in my living room singing directly to me while half-naked.

AN: So, here I am, brand new fandom and brand new story—maybe I'll find my calling in Glee fanfiction and stop having to search desperately for a job, eh?

Quinn sat on the steps of McKinley High School and fought back tears. Puck had just called her fat—again—and she wasn't sure how much longer she could take it. Noah's mother was cold at best, downright mean at worst, and his little sister bit. If she had any other options at all she'd have moved, but Quinn knew she was trapped where she was. She glanced around, making sure she was alone, and gave in to the rising lump in her throat and her stinging eyes.

As she leaned against the staircase and let the tears fall, she thought back to last year—back before she got pregnant, back before her parent's hated her. She remembered the feeling of love she got from her father's proud smiles and her mother's approving glances. Last week she had run into her mother at the grocery store and Joan Fabray had taken one look at her and turned around and speed walked away. Her own mother hadn't even stopped to ask where she was living these days.

She allowed herself one, two, three sobs and forced herself to stop. It wouldn't due to be caught crying in public over her circumstances—

"Quinn? Is that you?" Mr. Shuester's voice sliced across the quiet parking lot like a knife and Quinn cringed internally. Of course it was her—she seriously doubted she could be confused with anyone else at this point, as disgustingly huge as she was.

"Yeah, Mr. Shue. I'm just waiting for Puck."

"Rehearsal ended almost an hour ago—why haven't you left yet?"

"Well, Noah needed to run some errands, so he said he'd just come back for me." That was a blatant lie, and Quinn knew Mr. Shuester knew it. Puck had left her there after a rather public fight in the hallway as they were leaving rehearsal. He'd called her fat and left in his car, leaving her to walk back to his house on her own. She'd been too mad to walk back right away, and so she was sitting and resting before she made the attempt.

"Right. Is everything ok?" Mr. Shuester had walked from where his car was parked to sit next to her on the stairs. Quinn looked straight ahead and tried to make her voice as even as possible when she answered.

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Really Quinn? Because I don't think you're telling me the truth here." His quiet protest forced her eyes back to his face.

"That's because I'm not." She could feel the tears leaking out of her eyes, and she wiped furiously at them with the back of her hand. She'd been rationing her make up lately, or she knew her face would have been a smeary wet mess. Mr. Shuester sighed and glanced at his watch.

"Look, Quinn—it's almost six, why don't we go grab some dinner and we can talk, alright?"

"Mr. Shuester, I really don't think—"

"I insist." His face was firm, and he had used his teacher voice. Quinn found herself nodding and pulling herself off the stairs, awkwardly rising and pulling her backpack with her. She felt Mr. Shuester's hand on her elbow to steady her as she got up, and she realized with a shock that it was the first time in nearly a week that someone had touched her with anything resembling a supportive purpose. The thought nearly made her start to cry again.

They walked quietly to Mr. Shuester's car and he opened the door for her. She got in the front seat and pulled her backpack onto what was left of her lap. She sat back and Mr. Shuester's heat kicked on with a quiet sputter. Quinn hadn't realized how cold she was until she felt the heat blasting on her fingers.

"So, Quinn, what's going on? You're staying with Puck now?" The radio was playing quietly and Mr. Shuester's voice was pleasant and comforting. Quinn found herself answering without hesitation.

"Yeah, I just couldn't stay at Finn's any longer—his mom was super nice, but it just felt wrong, ya know? I swear, I almost had myself convinced that Finn was the father towards the end." She stopped short—surprised that she'd revealed so much to a teacher, but Mr. Shuester just nodded.

"And how is the Puckerman house? Do you like it?" Quinn hesitated and contemplated lying, but Mr. Shuester seemed to have a knack for telling when she was lying, so Quinn decided against it.

"Quinn?" They were paused at a red light and Mr. Shuester was looking at her expectantly.

"It's…well, it's not so great." She said in a rush. "His mother hates me, and Noah has gotten really mean lately. And his sister bites."

"She bites?" Mr. Shuester's quiet and incredulous comment seems unbelievably hysterical to Quinn.

"Yes—she's like a four foot tall piranha." Quinn snorted and dissolved into laughter, and Mr. Shuester chuckled along with her.

Suddenly, talking to Mr. Shuester seemed really easy, and everything started to bubble up and out of her mouth—she told him everything.

Everything—how awful it was living with the Puckermans, how Finn still wouldn't look directly at her, even about her mother in the grocery store. She hadn't told anyone about her mother, and it felt good to get it off her chest.

Mr. Shuester turned off the car in the parking lot of a diner and waited for her to finish.

"Ready to get something to eat?" she nodded and made her way out of the car. She felt a little drained and more than a little tired, but she definitely felt better—far better than she had since her parents kicked her out.

The conversation was light as they ate their burgers—the diner even put extra pickles on it like she'd asked—and Quinn learned a little bit about Mr. Shuester that she didn't know before. He'd studied abroad in Madrid in college, and decided to become a Spanish teacher when he came back home and saw how much easier it was to learn other subjects once he'd become fluent in a second language. His favorite musical was The Music Man, and he'd played the lead in a community theatre production once. And his dad was in law school, proving that it was never too late to go after what you want. They continued to talk through dessert and on the drive back to the Puckermans' to drop Quinn off for the night. When the car stopped in front of the house, Mr. Shuester turned to Quinn with a smile.

"Well, here we are, Quinn. Thanks for having dinner with me." Quinn smiled back and hesitated with her hand on the door latch.

"Mr. Shuester? I just want you to know—when I was going to give my baby to Mrs. Shuester? It wasn't really her that convinced me to do it." Mr. Shuester's face held dulled hurt and confusion, and Quinn rushed to clarify. "It was you. If I had to make a dad for my baby from scratch? He'd be just like you. I wish you were my dad, even." Quinn's voice cracked at the end of her sentence, and Mr. Shuester's eyes teared up as he patted her shoulder reassuringly.

"Thank you, Quinn. I really appreciate that. You're a really great kid and if your parents can't see that, even with everything that's happened, then they don't deserve you." Quinn nodded her thanks and got out of the car. Mr. Shuester waved as he drove off down the street and Quinn turned back to the house. She felt a little better about her circumstances after talking it out with Mr. Schuester, and she felt a little stronger than she had before.