She'd been waiting for this moment.

People always stopped and stared at Quinn Fabray. It didn't matter if they were girls or boys, somehow every eye had always ended up on her as soon as she walked in the door. Even teachers, which was actually kind of gross.

Rachel Berry had never been an exception.

Maybe it was the Cheerios uniform, blindingly red and taut in just the right places, with the knowledge that underneath that skirt created by some blessed perv, there was only a pair of spanx separating you from Quinn Fabray and her power.

As if.

Or maybe it was that power, head held high and hips moving in tandem as she commanded the halls of McKinley High School with just her walk. That walk held the power of championships, the power to make boys run into walls and Santana Lopez to seethe with envy from her second-best perch.

And the hips now clad in black jeans with a chain hanging from the pocket still made boys run into walls; Quinn chuckled as Finn collided with a locker, trying to take in the pink hair, the tank top, the fake tattoo of Ryan Seacrest plastered to her lower back all at once.

She could thank Rachel for that inspiration, she thought.

The Cheerios clustered around themselves just stared; for a split second Quinn thought one of them might have something to say to her, but the HBIC glare worked even if she no longer had the uniform, and Quinn smirked, lifting her head a little higher.

And just as it always did, even with the power of red and uniform and thighs that held boys in sway, or a studded belt around her waist that signaled the old Fabray was gone and the new Fabray didn't care what anyone thought, Quinn's resolve dropped as she made her way to her locker, only to see Rachel Berry.

Waiting for her.

So there it was again, whether she was wearing a cheerleader's uniform or feathers in her hair, that small nagging sense of not good enough, as Rachel Berry's eyes roved over her. Rachel in a blue dotted sundress, a welcome change to plaid and argyle. Then those eyes, which had been inspecting every inch of her, suddenly dropped to the floor, before lifting once again and looking out at Quinn through long, dark eyelashes, and a shiver ran through her.

Rachel Berry was living up to the necklace around her neck. For her.

"I do hope you didn't pay much for that tattoo, it's horribly designed," Rachel remarked when Quinn made her way up to her, and a few students glanced around as Quinn laughed.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught a flash of puffy orange hair, and she shook her head as Jacob Ben Israel nearly collided with another student in his hurry to gape at her.

"It isn't real," she said, ignoring him as she grinned at Rachel. "You should've known it was fake; after all, you're pretty good at fake tattoos."

"Which means I would've chosen a much better one," Rachel shot back, and Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"Oh really, Berry?" she said smoothly. "And what tattoo would you have put on me?"

"I... I-I'll have to get back to you on that."

Quinn opened her locker, knowing that the heat of her ears must match the blush on Rachel's face. A flustered Rachel was adorable, she thought to herself.

Almost as adorable as an angry Rachel. A rambling Rachel. Even sad Rachel was kind of cute, even though the idea of it had Quinn curling and uncurling her fists.

"Ready for another year?"

"A different year?"

"I said it would be." She stowed her bag away in her locker, ever-aware of the ring that lay in the inner pocket. She pulled out her notebook and pens and closed the door, leaning up against it and regarding Rachel in the same cool way she used to.

She couldn't help but notice it, the tiny glimmer of fear that crossed over Rachel's face, before it vanished behind the same "I don't care, I'm better than everyone here" look that Rachel had perfected from a high school career as the outcast.

Quinn had the championships, the money and the boys to back it up – but she'd always known who was better.

And maybe it was the shedding of that old skin, the uniform that had been unceremoniously shoved to the back of her closet – and maybe her willingness to come out of it – that had Quinn reaching out and brushing Rachel's hand with a fingertip as light and as quick as the fear Rachel Berry had always held when it came to her.

The flash of orange hair went by her again, like a lion on the prowl, but Quinn focused on Rachel.

"I said it would be different."

They'd spent a few more of their evenings together ever since Rachel had been sick, and Quinn's time with the Skanks had become less and less until now it was almost non-existent. She still texted Mac and talked to her, or Mac mostly teased her about Rachel suddenly being more important to Quinn than anyone else, and Quinn… hadn't really been able to disagree. It was all too easy to prefer Rachel's easiness, the warmth of her house and her smile, to sitting under the bleachers with a group of people who once again didn't really know her, or to spend it in Quinn's own house waiting for her mother to come back at two a.m.

Things were going to be different. They were different.

"I'm holding our first glee auditions after sch—"

"That's not changing."

Rachel huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at Quinn. "So helping us advance in status, first to sectionals, then regionals, and at long last to nationals means nothing to you?"

"Rachel, New Directions has you. You could go out on stage without any of us and win all three single-handedly. You don't need me."

There was a dimple in Rachel's cheek as she smiled, looking down at her feet before glancing back up at Quinn.

"While it is true that my talent is essentially a guarantee, perhaps I was also making a feeble attempt at telling you that, well…"

"Well?" Quinn prompted when Rachel hesitated.

"Perhaps it is for purely selfish reasons that I want you to come back to glee. Perhaps it isn't only New Directions that needs you."

"You'll still see me every day," Quinn pointed out, unwilling to betray how much Rachel's words had affected her.

Rachel Berry needed her?

Rachel Berry needed Quinn Fabray?

"I mean we go to the same school and you are really loud, it's not like I can avoid you."

She remembered only too well their incident in the hallway, with Rachel stood above her on the stairs, just high enough that Quinn was eye level with her br—

Quinn cleared her throat and glanced away.

You obviously have a lot you need to express.

Oh you have no idea.

Rachel put her hands on her hips and Quinn couldn't suppress a grin. There was no way that she could deny riling up Rachel had been the highlight of the old Quinn Fabray's days at McKinley, and, well, the new Quinn was finding out that it was just as much fun. Especially now that there wasn't the malice that used to be in her every interaction with Rachel.

But Rachel's voice wasn't angry or obnoxious, and she dropped her hands to her sides just as quickly as she had put them on her hips. She seemed deflated, Quinn realized, lost with the knowledge that Quinn wasn't, in fact, going to change her mind about the glee club.

"It won't be the same."

"I said it wouldn't."

She wasn't who she used to be. She may still have a rosary around her neck but she didn't believe in God anymore. Well, she was pretty sure she didn't. She didn't have a baby foot lodged against her ribs, or baby weight growing steadily. She didn't have the weight of her father crashing down on her either, or the pressure to be that perfect girl. She didn't have to join a club anymore to keep some girl away from her boyfriend.

Jealousy suddenly flared within Quinn and she clenched her hands at her sides, gritting her teeth, even as she was surprised with the thoughts raging in her head.

Finn better stay away from Rachel.

Things were definitely not the same.

The bell rang, signaling the beginning of class, and Quinn reached out to gently nudge Rachel's shoulder. "You ought to go, don't want to start your senior year off by being late to homeroom."

"Are you still sad?"

Quinn sighed. "Rachel, can we not have these heart to heart conversations in the hallway?"

"We can move to the restroom if you'd like."

"No, I would not like," Quinn said sharply, rolling her eyes. "What I would like is to have a drama-free senior year without you thinking I'm going to fall apart every five minutes, even if I do appreciate it. I'm fine, Rachel, and we're both going to be late. Go to class."

"Yes, Quinn," Rachel sighed, and Quinn couldn't help but smirk at the fact that Rachel would listen to her even when she clearly didn't want to.

She stopped Rachel though, before she turned away, and in spite of the other students pressing around them in the hurry to get to their own homerooms, she lifted her hand to Rachel's cheek, her thumb trailing over the soft skin she found there.

"I really like that dress," Quinn said, having to lean into Rachel's ear a little bit so that Rachel could hear her, a gesture so intimate it could've been mistaken for a kiss.

"But you know, even if you were wearing a sweater and those ridiculous skirts, you'd still be beautiful."

Rachel beamed, both dimples in full force now, and for a split second Quinn had to remind herself how to breathe.

"I'll see you at lunch?"

Wait, was she expected to sit with Rachel at lunch now? Being chosen as her dominant was one thing; having to sit with her in the lunchroom, where everyone could see? That was—

"I'll see you at lunch."

For the love of God, Quinn thought to herself, shaking her head as she watched Rachel Berry skip away from her down the hall.

By lunch time, everyone in the school knew.

By lunch time, Quinn Fabray had seven text messages and 300 Facebook notifications. Coach had helpfully linked to the article, along with tips on how to effectively hide from society.

Pinky and the Diva, the headline screamed, and Quinn felt mildly insulted, even as she panicked, scrolling through the words of Jacob Ben Israel.

Heads turned when a certain former cheerleader now teenage mother statistic walked into McKinley today looking like "a Jolly Rancher in an ash tray," (thank you Brittany!) but no head turned quicker than that of my little singing Jewish turtledove. Last year the big story after prom was WHO HAS TAMED THE WILD BERRY? with that necklace around her neck, and now, it seems this intrepid reporter has discovered the answer. Wonder what the lumbering lug thinks of this?!

If you're going to play touchy-feely in the halls, Captain, you may wish to remember: My eyes – and McKinley's – are always open.

And it seemed as if all eyes were indeed on her as Quinn slammed the door to her locker and noticed Rachel making a beeline for her, her face red and confused – but Finn made it to Quinn first.

"Is it true?" he demanded, and Quinn leaned against the cool metal, staring up at him with contempt.

"Finn-"

Other students had gathered around them then, waiting eagerly for what they hoped would be a fight, even as Rachel inserted herself between Finn and Quinn, her hand up. But, as always, he ignored her.

"Is it true?" he asked again, advancing as close to Quinn as Rachel would let him.

"Quinn—"

"Yes."

Finn gasped. The other students gasped. Rachel gasped, but that may have been just because Quinn had reached and pulled her away from Finn, now situating herself between the football player and his former girlfriend.

"Yes, it's true," Quinn said, her voice a little louder than usual. Saying it to Finn. To the school.

To Rachel.

"Quinn—"

"Be quiet." Rachel snapped her mouth shut – for once – and Quinn smirked, then regarded Finn coolly.

"On prom night," she said matter-of-factly. "Just like Bozo the Clown's article said."

Finn's face looked a bizarre shade of purple, the veins in his forehead standing out in his anger. "But… you… how…"

"What's the matter, Finn?" Quinn cooed, crossing her arms over her chest and grinning at him. Was that pride she was feeling? "Disappointed that it takes more than bragging about bedding someone to be their dominant?"

She saw Rachel wince and Quinn felt momentarily guilty for it.

"You hate her!"

"No." Quinn shook her head, and glanced over her shoulder at Rachel, stood behind her almost so close that Quinn could feel the girl's breath on the back of her neck.

"No, I don't hate her. Something out there obviously knew that better than I did."

The crowd had grown ever larger around them, and Quinn even saw Principal Figgins stood watching them with fascination. Some administrator he was, she thought to herself.

Suddenly she found herself pressed into her locker, Finn's index finger in her face.

"No. It's not true. I don't believe it. You stay the hell away from my future wife!"

"Wait, excuse me?" This time they switched places yet again, and Quinn looked on in shock as Rachel turned into a five foot two ball of fury, rounding on Finn with disbelief written on her face.

"All right, one, I cannot even begin to impress upon you how extremely creepy that is, Finn Hudson, and two, what? Future wife? When you can't even remember what theater American Idiot premiered in?"

"St. James," Quinn muttered to herself.

"What does theater have to do with anything?"

Quinn closed her eyes briefly and prayed that Rachel wouldn't shriek. Thankfully, she didn't.

"I am not your future wife, Finn," Rachel said, and Quinn's heart clenched as she heard the note of sadness combined with finality.

Rachel Berry was, at last, letting go of Finn Hudson.

"You can't say that," Finn spat, running his hand through his hair. "Rachel, we're going to make this work. We have to. It's you and me, we're endgame."

"Ugh, can we just—"

"Hush, Quinn." She raised an eyebrow at Rachel, who blushed, but Quinn fell silent and Rachel addressed Finn again.

"You and I were never endgame. You and I were children, too blinded by immaturity and, on your part, a profound lack of give-a-damn. I will admit that I once thought of you as my leading man, but Fate apparently has a different idea." Rachel glanced at Quinn, who returned the small smile the other girl gave her.

"It can't be true," Finn insisted, a sudden gleam in his eye as he grinned at Rachel.

"Where's her ring?"

Quinn's heart sank, and Rachel looked at the tall boy in his flannel shirt and jeans, stunned.

"Well, she—"

"She was supposed to get a ring, right? And you're wearing a necklace, but I don't see a ring on you," Finn sneered at Quinn. "So who is it? Or is all of this some joke?"

"It's not a joke," Rachel said wearily as Quinn turned and quietly spun the dial to her locker. "It's just… she's not… we're not ready," she settled on.

The crowd around them began to filter off, disappointed at the absence of flying fists and swear words. Soon it was just them, two girls and a boy, and Quinn opened her locker and thrust her hand into her backpack.

"Not ready?" Finn asked. "What the heck does that mean? Either you're bonded or you're not."

"And we are," Quinn said, turning back to Finn and Rachel.

The ring shone under the harsh fluorescent school lighting as she held it up. She saw Rachel's jaw drop, saw Finn's eyes widen, felt the cool seal of the ring as she slipped it onto her finger.

The coolness gradually gave way to warmth, a solid tingling heat that spread its way from her hand up to her head, all the way down to her toes, and with it came the sudden encompassing realization… of Rachel.

They had begun to feel each other even without the ring, but now, with it on, Quinn could feel Rachel's confusion, her wonder, the fear as she was faced down by Finn, and… something else Quinn hadn't ever really felt from Rachel Berry, as the other girl's eyes were fastened on the ring Quinn wore.

Adoration.

It emboldened her, drew her up to her full height as Quinn yelled out "Hey!" and everyone in the halls once again stopped to listen to her. Still had it, she thought to herself.

"See this?" she said, holding her hand up to Finn – and everyone else.

"This is mine," she said, and then looked back at Rachel before drawing the girl to stand next to her. "And maybe I'm not ready and maybe this is all… really confusing," she confessed, but went on. "But whatever it is, I'm bonded to her, and anyone who thinks it isn't true, well, you can fuck right off."

The gauntlet had been lain, as Quinn Fabray leveled her gaze to Finn Hudson and anyone else who would challenge her. And as they all walked off, Finn swearing under his breath, she could feel Rachel Berry's pride, coupled with the same uncertainty that Quinn had become used to, bond or not.

"I'm sorry," she said before Rachel could speak. "I'm sorry I denied it for so long." She glanced down at the ring on her hand, then back up at the girl with the necklace around her neck.

"I won't deny it anymore."

"I can't say that it's okay, because it's not. But I understand why, Quinn."

"I'm still not coming back to glee."

Rachel laughed, and shook her head. "I'll just have to keep working on you."

"Yeah, you do that."

Rachel leaned against the locker beside Quinn and closed her eyes with a sigh. "Drama-free senior year, huh?"

"Never a dull moment with you, Berry." Quinn turned to look at Rachel, happy when she saw a dreamy grin crossing over the other girl's face.

"So they can just fuck right off?"

"They can just fuck right off. …You still want to go on that date?"

Rachel's eyes opened. "Wait, why is that even a question you're asking?"

Quinn shrugged, feeling suddenly self-conscious, and even more so now that she knew Rachel could feel it.

"I was just worried, that with all this…" She trailed off and shrugged again.

Rachel reached out and took Quinn's hand, and it was as if her insecurity calmed down, with the simple gesture of Rachel's fingers entwining with hers.

"I still want to go on our date."

"… good."

"You can take the ring off if you want."

And then it was Quinn feeling Rachel's own insecurity, the nagging doubt the girl with the powerful voice had always had about herself, especially when it came to Quinn Fabray.

"No."

"I just thought…"

"I said no, Rachel."

"Yes, Quinn."

Quinn smiled, and leaned over to brush a kiss onto Rachel's forehead. "Now we only have ten minutes to eat lunch," she joked. "Still want to sit together in the cafeteria?"

Rachel shook her head, looking at Quinn with a sparkle in her eyes. "Music room?"

Quinn groaned. "Rachel…"

"Just lunch. Just you and me."

"You never give up, do you?"

"It's not in my nature to give up, Quinn. Plus you did tell me to keep working on it."

"So I did."

Quinn pushed off from her locker, still holding on to Rachel's hand. "I guess we can, as long as Blaine isn't in there practicing."

"I'll throw him out. Quinn?"

"Hmm?" She took her lunch out of her locker and squeezed Rachel's hand as they started down the hall. There were still a few stragglers left, staring at them, and Quinn lifted her chin defiantly.

"Will you ever kiss something other than my forehead?"

Quinn stopped dead in her tracks, accidentally jerking Rachel backwards a little. "Sorry about that," she apologized, her thoughts a whirlwind.

"I-I don't know," she answered honestly, focused on Rachel's lips and wondering what it would be like to finally kiss them. Rachel was smiling a little, perfectly aware of Quinn's inner dialogue, and Quinn flushed, even as she was grateful for the understanding in Rachel's eyes.

"I mean I don't know if I'm r – do you want me to kiss you?"

They made it to the music room before Rachel answered, stopping outside of the door to look at Quinn.

"Yes," she said quietly. "I want you to kiss me."

"Oh." Quinn nodded. "Well… should we go in?"

She seemed disappointed, but Rachel nonetheless opened the door to the music room and poked her head in.

"No Blaine," she pronounced, and Quinn giggled.

"No Blaine."

They went inside, with Rachel seeming to hesitate, trying to decide where to sit, and Quinn resolved to decide it for them as she tucked herself under the piano and then patted the cold floor next to her. Rachel sat down, impossibly close, and Quinn took a deep breath.

"Sorry I don't have a blanket," she said casually, and Rachel shrugged, starting to unwrap her lunch.

"Blankets are sometimes overrated." She glanced at Quinn. "Besides, I do think it is quite warm enough in here."

Quinn nodded silently, almost to herself as she stared down at the bag in her hands. They really only had five minutes left and any second now she'd have to pack up and go to her next class. Leave Rachel. It was weird, that the idea of being apart from Rachel even for just a little while, until the last bell rang, suddenly made her feel sick to her stomach.

"Quinn?"

And Rachel felt it too, of course, because the ring was hot against Quinn's skin as she turned to look at her.

"Yeah?"

"Are y—"

She kissed her. The hand with the ring had lifted to cup Rachel's cheek, and they'd stared at each other for the briefest of seconds. Rachel's lips were parted slightly and wet; Quinn leaned over and Rachel met her halfway. She was warm and soft; Rachel's hand was again entwined in Quinn's other one. It was a little cramped and strange under the piano, but Quinn kissed Rachel softly, completely, finally only pulling away when she needed to breathe.

"I'm okay," she said, her forehead pressed against Rachel. She chuckled slightly, feeling like an idiot.

"I've been wanting to do that since I was fourteen years old."

"O-oh," Rachel said, sounding surprised. "Well then I… I guess you have a lot of time to make up for."

She bit her lip shyly, and Quinn realized her hand hadn't left Rachel's cheek.

"Yeah… yeah, I guess I do."

She kissed her again. Bolder this time, shifting closer to Rachel so that their joined hands were held between them, against Quinn's chest, and she knew Rachel could feel her heart racing.

Ten minutes later, Rachel was laughing as she sat next to Quinn and finished her lunch.

"I suppose we are skipping class on our first day of school?"

"For now, yeah."

"You're a bad influence on me, Quinn Fabray."

"I like the sound of that, Rachel Berry."

"You would."

Quinn laid on her back and lifted her hand into the air, looking at the ring on her finger. She knew Rachel was watching her carefully, searching for any sign of fear or regret.

Quinn smiled up at her, lowering her hand to close once again around Rachel's.

No regrets, she thought to herself. She could do this.

Maybe, just maybe, she could do this.