I do not own Glee.

Concept: Quinn wasn't lying when she told Finn that he was the father.

Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust

CHAPTER ONE

"So, um, is two drawers going to be enough?" Finn asked, shoving his clothes around to make room for Quinn's.

"Sure." She replied from her seat on the bed. This room – this house – it was her home now. But it was so, so different than the house she'd grown up in. Finn's room was hardly more than a glorified closet. His wallpaper had cowboys on it – well, the ones that weren't wood-paneled, anyways. Most of the furniture slumped, and constantly looked like it needed to be fixed. It was so different from the stark, clean lines that she was used to. The bright, modern, and yet classical designs that her mother had paid a whole team of people to create, brand new, for their home. This change was frightening, and yet oddly comfortable. It was so different from the world she knew – but it also felt warm and cozy, like a mother's hug after a long and stressful day. She could be herself; she didn't have to lie anymore. There were no lies left, and she reveled in that fact.

"Hey" Finn came to sit beside her, the mattress shifting as he wrapped his arms around her and brushed back a fallen strand of hair, "I know it's a little weird, but maybe this is for the best. Now I'll always be here for you, whenever you need me." Quinn nodded, not quite sure what to say, and relaxed into his arms. As soon as she let go of her strict calm she began to cry.

He let her cry, not quite sure what to say. There wasn't anything that could right this awful wrong, that could make her whole again. But he knew from watching his mother that, sometimes, girls just needed to cry. He hoped that she would fall asleep and escape into dreams, because they would comfort her in a way that he could not. They would lie to her, and she would believe them and be swept away in their magic.

An hour later, Caroline climbed the stairs for bed, finally done with the laundry, the dishwasher, and all of the other chores that wouldn't wait until tomorrow. As she passed her son's room she paused, not sure if she should check on him. She loved and trusted her son – but look where that had gotten them. Quinn hadn't been on the couch downstairs, and there wasn't a spare bedroom, which meant she must be with Finn. But then again, what more trouble could they get into? She hadn't known what to say to the poor girl – words of comfort didn't seem to stretch wide enough to fill this awful hole.

The door was ajar, and she peeked in. Finn was curled on his side, dangerously close to the edge of the bed as always – just like his father had slept. Beside him, Quinn faced the opposite direction, on top of the covers and still dressed.

Quietly, Caroline picked up Finn's cowboy blanket and spread it over the girl. She had never really looked at Quinn before. She normally saw her in a cheerios uniform, her hair pulled into a tight pony that Caroline imagined created awful headaches. Normally she was laughing with Finn, doing homework at their kitchen counter, or chatting with some other cheerios while their boyfriends played pickup football in the yard. When they had dinner together she was quiet and courteous – always offering to help with the dishes, and seemingly interested in all of their family drama. But she always seemed on guard, never truly relaxed or comfortable. Now, her hair spread out on the pillow in loose, golden curls. She wore one of Finn's old McKinley shirts and a pair of bright sofie shorts. Her hand subconsciously rested on her stomach, where Caroline could see the beginnings of a bump.

Finn turned, and for a moment she froze, afraid that he was waking up, that he would accuse her of invading his privacy, although Finn really wasn't that kind of kid. But he didn't wake. He looked so young, so peaceful in his sleep.

She sighed, tiptoeing out of the room. There was so much to do, so much to figure out. Should she talk to the Fabrays – reach out to them? Did Quinn have siblings? Could they afford this? How? Did they have room for two more people? How would they tell the school, change Quinn's records, her driver's license?

There was no guide to being the parent of a teenage father – to taking in his pregnant girlfriend.

Tomorrow, they would deal with this. Tomorrow they would make the decisions and adjustments that were needed. Tomorrow was a headache for another day.

A/N: I don't know if I'll go farther, but I hope to. And I hope you liked it! Please review.