The football flew wildly across the field, and hard teenage muscle, clothed in red and white McKinley colors, collided in gruff frenzied search of it.

Quinn watched from the benches. She could never understand why this sport or its players were so important, so valued, at McKinley High. But they were, and she was no longer really a part of it, which was the reason why some of her more rebellious peers now felt like it was completely fine to argue with her, and cut her in the lunch queue. Small as those acts of treason may seem; they would only get bigger, like a pernicious cancer. Being Head Cheerleader wasn't enough anymore. Not when she'd had the perfect Quarterback boyfriend to go along with the rest of her gleaming accolades. Soon she could expect to be nudged in the hallways, where her peers used to part for her like The Red Sea. Soon she could expect the dreaded... slushie treatment. The same slushie treatment that she had invented the very first time that she'd seen Rachel Berry wearing that hideous Argyle sweater vest.

The grim reality, now that Finn had, 'kicked her to the curb,' - as Jacob Ben Israel's blog had so astutely put it - was icy for sure.

But she was Quinn Fabray.

She had a plan.

Firstly, how could Finn Hudson break up with her? In her mind, it was like a cabbage breaking up with a diamond. He was as dumb as cabbage, that was a scientific fact. But he was smart enough to recognize when his ego had been pierced, when it was aching, and with that thought Quinn peered out at her long and clumsy ex-boyfriend.

Out of nowhere Puck viciously bowled him over, sending Finn's body spiraling through the air. The ground seemed to groan when he thudded into it.

Quinn allowed the scheming smirk that had asked permission of her lips.

She spotted Rachel Berry just outside of Glee club's doors talking to Mr. Shue - no doubt boring him with another one of her extravagant and overzealous ideas.

Quinn rolled her eyes. She was going to have to stop eating if she was actually going to go through with this ruse, she decided. Who could keep their food down after having Man Hands paw all over them, whether it was authentic or not?

Mr. Shue seemingly couldn't escape fast enough. He took off, run-walking down the hallway with his briefcase swinging in his grasp, leaving Rachel to cup her mouth and smell her own breath. Was that the problem?

Quinn pounced like a lion in the wilderness.

With her pale hand scrunched up tight in the neck of Rachel's sweater vest, she led them through Glee club's double doors, only letting go when the doors swung still and shut. And boy did she let go.

Rachel slung her hand out at the last minute, resting her palm atop the piano to steady herself. Her chest rolled up and down hastily, her bangs chaotically thrown to the side. "Even for you, Quinn Fabray, this is low! You have always walked a tightrope where it concerns the lengths that you'll go to to torment me. But you've never gotten physi -"

"Just cooperate, and I will never have to get physical," Quinn mocked, frogging her fingers for quotation marks, as she slowly walked up on the girl, "with you ever again."

Rachel blinked over and over, putting a steadying hand to her chest as she relived the terror of being grabbed from behind and dragged to an unknown destination...

Ok, so the destination had been a known one. But she wasn't Rachel Berry if she wasn't throwing a hand over her eyes like an exaggerated damsel in distress. "What is it that you want?" she asked testily, just wanting to see the end of this, though she regretted it once her long-time bully's face elongated with a menacing smile.

"You're going to pretend to be my girlfriend, so that Finn comes crawling back to me on his hands and knees."

A gasp that Rachel hadn't even authorized puffed from her lips. She went through many stages in those few seconds, ending with complete and utter condoundment. "W-What?"

Quinn decided that she was going to have to take it up a notch when it became clear that Treasure Trail was going to be difficult about this. So, she placed her hands on her hips, adopting that signature Cheerio stance. "You," she enunciated, poking a finger into Rachel's chest, "are going to faux-date me, so that Finnept comes crawling back to me on his hands and knees. Understood?"

"I,I still don't understand."

Quinn rolled her eyes and sighed. "Step one: we pretend we're dating. Step two." - She folded another finger down - "Finn's ego takes a blow because not only have I left boys for girls after dating him; I've left him for Rachel Berry. Step three: he literally comes crawling back to me on his hands and knees. Step four: we take our PDA up a notch, just to burn the images into his pasty forehead, so that he remembers what's going to happen if he ever breaks up with me again. Step five: we intentionally get caught making out by Jacob Ben Israel. He'll interview me, and I'll willingly tell the whole school that I'm now a Rachel-Berry-sexual because of how deceiving the gigantic size of Finn's feet were. Then there's the inevitable step six: you and I have a big fight, and publicly break up. I'll then predictably find comfort in Finn's arm, and we'll ride off into the sunset together," Quinn concluded, clicking her tongue testily, like the mere mention of riding anywhere with Finn gave her the runs.

"Did you just?" Rachel paused, and crumpled in on herself a little with a chuckle that beautified her entire face. "I'm sorry," she giggled, waving her hand at the blonde as if to tell her to knock it off. "But I just thought I heard you say that we were going to make out." More laughter, nose-crinkling explosions of laughter, spluttered out.

Panic swallowed Quinn whole. Her eyes twitched as they flickered still mid-blink. She wasn't used to being laughed at by her peers. Rachel's shrill waves of never-ending laughter sent a sliver of ice up her spine. As if to break the ice before it set, she darted forward and snatched the collar of the suddenly silent and owlish brunette's vest. "Shut up!" she sneered quietly.

Tan fingers slowly crawled up to clasp the pale hand that was balling the vest's neck.

"Unhand me, Quinn," Rachel whined, though she didn't struggle at all.

Quinn glanced down at their touching hands, and she was far from impressed when she figured that a lot more skin on skin contact with Man hands was going to be taking place soon. So she let go. Just like that.

Rachel smoothed out her sweater vest, and then folded her arms defiantly. "Why would or should I do anything for you, Quinn, when you treat me, and religiously have me treated, like the semen that gathers in the end of a condom?"

Quinn frowned at the absurd comparison, merely shaking her head in defeat, because fuck if she knew... "Because there's something in it for you, Berry," she spat. "If you do this, the shitty treatment stops! The moment that I get my pull back, say hello to slushie-free days. Say hello to actually getting to eat that vegan crap at lunch without having it dumped all over your head. Say bye to the brutal but true nicknames. I might even wink at you in the hallways, as a personal thank you from time to time."

Rachel managed to hold the oncoming bray of laughter that brewed beneath her somewhat serious exterior. "If I stumble into another fit of giggles, you'll thump me won't you?"

"You bet."

Rachel let her face crack, and from there she went rolling around that colorful bowl of mirth.

Thump schmump.

No thump ever came.

Both girls hot-footed it through the parking lot, Rachel on the way to her car, and Quinn; right behind her.

"You want me to beg? Is that it?" Quinn husked, the heat off of her lips chasing Rachel's ear.

"I don't want anything from you, Quinn. But I do appreciate the laughs."

"I'm the only one who can do something to get the vultures in that school to back off!" she whispered acrimoniously. "Help me get my pull back, and I'll personally make sure that you enjoy being at school more than you enjoy going home." She hoped that the buzz of nearby traffic drowned out the blatant desperation that was woven into her voice.

But Rachel's ears lapped up every discordant inflection. This was beautiful. "It would be mendacious of me to feign indifference at the prospect of having a peaceful academic career. But I don't trust you, nor do I want to help you from a genuine place. However, I do want a peaceful academic career." She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she chewed on Quinn's plan. "How do I know that you won't go back on your word - discard me as worthless - once you're done with me? How do I know that I'm not a mere pawn in yet another lofty prank of yours?"

"I'll... I'll write something incriminating on some paper, and you can take a photo of me holding it, or something."

Rachel squinted. "... Like what?"

Quinn was irritated by the brunette's caution. She'd thought that Rachel was going to jump at this proposition with all four limbs. Still... "I could write that I stole the cell phones that went missing in the girl's locker room, last month. Figgins is still thirsty for blood."

"Did you?" Rachel gasped, horrified for all of a nanosecond, until she remembered who she was speaking to. Everything seemed to be a cruel means to an end when it came to the icy Head Cheerleader. Anything was possible.

"No, Stubbles!" Quinn snapped. "I'll just say that I did! If it gets out, I'll be screwed. But it won't get out, because this is genuine. We're just scratching each other's backs."

"... Ok. I'll do it."

"Ok. Good," Quinn muttered tightly, attempting to maintain at least some of her pride. "Effective tomorrow. I'll pick you up in the morning -"

"I really don't deem that to be all that necessary, Quinn -"

"I said I'll pick you up in the morning!"

If it wasn't final before, it certainly was after that.

Rachel bid Quinn a small tilt of the head, which the blonde wasn't shocked by; the brunette was usually always polite. What she was, however, totally and utterly stirred by was the manner in which Rachel then smirked and flipped her the bird; knowing that there was nothing that Quinn could do about it, because Quinn needed her now.

"Well then..." Rachel said as she dropped the offensive gesture and smoothed down her sweater. A satisfied smile swayed her features. "I should get going. I expect you to be at my house early; I won't have you tarnishing my flawless punctuality record."

Yeah... Quinn was so not over this freak flipping her the bird. Her pale hands balled and then flexed down by her sides. She fought the pressing instinctual urge to cause harm with them.

Still, one of them left a slight blemish in the roof of Rachel's car as it slammed, ferociously, into the metal. "Look freak, this will go as smoothly or as turbulently," she hissed, slamming her hand down again in the same spot, "as you want. You do what I say, when I say it! I'm the one who's steering here."

Rachel straightened her back, standing as tall as possible. "Come break-up time, I am going to throw all of my weight into slapping you for whatever it is that you will have done to make me faux-break-up with you. Obviously, you'll be the dominant one in our relationship, so clearly the problem in our relationship will be your fault. Or have you not thought that far ahead?"

If Rachel wasn't anything else she was thorough.

It threw Quinn off a little. She should've thought about that. Because she hadn't, she feared that maybe there were other things left unchecked, and she just couldn't afford for any glitches...

What brought her back was the way that her mind endlessly echoed the words that RuPaul had just said.

Quinn suddenly clutched her head, and closed her eyes. "Firstly," she breathed out, distress trickling down her forehead in tiny beads of sweat, "you might use those man hands to pluck the stubble from your chin nightly, but you are never going to use them to slap me. Secondly, I'm breaking up with you, because duh!"

Rachel scoffed, and Quinn opened her eyes to glare at the brunette.

"I could just as well break up with you. Despite your best efforts to make me feel ugly and unattractive, Quinn, I know that I'm not. You may find me repulsive, and so may others here at McKinley. But realistically, people think that I am average or adorable. I had my fathers conduct a street survey once -"

"As I was saying! Thirdly," the cheerleader emphasized through gritted teeth, "I will beat the vegan out of you if you ever slap me. Is that clear?"

"Quite. I guess that it's just a risk that I may or may not have to take."

With that, Rachel hopped into her car and carefully eased out of the parking space. She took off without so much as a glance in the wing mirror.

Wearing a slight frown, Quinn watched. What exactly had she just gotten herself into?

Not a terribly original idea when it comes to Rachel and Quinn. But if you want my take on it, then stick around.