AN: Helloooo, here is chapter five, as requested, you greedy bastards. Kidding. I'm really, really sorry about the blatant Trans/homophobia in this chapter. Its incredibly integral to the plot, and it will happen again. I'm sorry. But I have to show R&Q that things aren't all sunny in LGBTLand. *whispers* and I also really like writing angst don't hurt me. In this chapter, we get 'The Date', some really offensive language, an antagonist and somefore Faberry fluff + kiss! Yay! I applaud any of you who were able to tell that the titles of the chapters were either music lyrics, song titles, or albums. This chapter's is Today by Smashing Pumpkins. I'm gonna shut up now because this AN is getting really , I give you, chapter five.

Quinn was completely and utterly in love with Rachel. Once they arrive at the cafe, they were seated quickly into a booth by a window that looked out into the night. A waiter came by and lit the single candle in the centre of the table. He brought by a couple of menus and left promptly. Good. He's not one of those chatty waiters. They're awful to have on dates.
"So, Rach, what looks good?" Quinn asked casually, starting a conversation.

"Everything." The brunette had the same look in her eyes that appears whenever she really, really wants something. It's slightly unnerving, but it's also really, really attractive. At least, to Quinn. Quinn bets Pillsbury Dough Boy couldn't last five seconds under that gaze. It pierces right through your soul, making you scared out of your wits and incredibly turned on. Damn those teenage hormones.

"Especially me." Quinn winks.

"Oh stoppit Quinn! You're going to get an even bigger ego if you keep this up."

"Last time I checked you had the biggest big head in a fifty mile radius of Lima."

"Ugh, Quinn." Rachel groaned.

"You know I'm right."
The pair continued this playful banter until the waiter returned, asking for food orders.

"I'll have the Caesar salad along with the lasagna." Rachel replied smoothly. Quinn could tell she felt liberated to not have to say, 'the vegan option of...' Before every dish or 'salad but nothing extra so just lettuce'.

"And I'll have the pizza, if you will."

"Thanks guys, your food will be out shortly." The waiter glanced around, as if he was nervous about something, "My supervisor told me to stop saying this, but you two make a great couple. My boyfriend is still too scared to go out to dinner with me." Rachel awwed and replied,
"Thank you. It means a lot. Don't ever stop saying that. And I hope it works out with you and your man..." Rachel glanced at his nametag, "Tristan."

"Thanks, and same to you. Your guy here is definitley a keeper." The waiter smiled quickly, then rushed off.

"So, Rachel, where are you planning on going to college?" Quinn stated after the waiter left.

"Oh, I'm thinking of Juilliard and NYADA, although Juilliard is kind of the impossible dream. What about you?" Rachel said before sipping on her water.

"I don't know, really. I've been looking at Tracker School in Jersey for a while now, but I doubt that could give me a career."

"Well, what does this tracker school entail?" Rachel shot Quinn a quizzical look.

"Basically, education about nature, survival methods and the Native culture. It will look great on job alter for park tour guides and some nature museums. But the downfall is that it does not produce a college diploma, and I really don't want to waste my time with courses that don't interest me. But I also kinda need a diploma if I ever need a job other than being a park ranger." Quinn hated how complicated outer life was. He considered his nature time his real life. Outer life is just that thing that supports his real life. Where he belongs.

"That school sounds... Incredible. But, somewhat unattainable. Lucky for you, I have a proposition. Go to MSM, Manhattan School of Music during school year, and we can figure out a way to live in New Jersey in the summer. I assume that is when most of these courses take place." Of course, Rachel Berry would have a plan. She always does.

"I doubt I'll be good enough at guitar for this MSM..." Quinn frowned, but it quickly turned into his thinking face, "wait, we?"

"Yes! If you are to date me, it is imperative for you to know that I hate doing anything without a plan. I mean, we work so well... I just assumed... Are we dating?" Quinn laughed.

"Of course Rachel. These dates have been amazing, as well as you. I really enjoy your company as a friend, as well as a girlfriend." Rachel reached out with her tanned hand to Quinn's pale one and grabbed it.

"I am honoured to call you my boyfriend." Quinn's grin stretched so wide, he thought it would snap, like a rubberband.

AN: TRIGGERING TRANSPHOBIA AND HOMOPHOBIA AHEAD PLEASE DON'T READ IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY ANY SLURS, DEVALIDATION OF IDENTITY, ETC. IF YOU OPT OUT OF THE CHUNK THERE WILL BE A SUMMARY AT THE END. PLEASE SKIP TO THE NEXT BREAK IF YOU ARE ONE OF THESE PEOPLE. SERIOUSELY.

"Well well well, if it isn't the Bilbo Faggins and Dyke Barfham. Enjoying your date, losers?" Kitty Wilde with her perfect all American boyfriend and perfectly applied makeup and very, very revealing dress had to come and ruin the date. Quinn thought it was high time the bitch got off her high horse and started fighting her battles herself. Unfortunately, Rachel beat him to the punch.

"Miss Wilde, as much as we appreciate your derogatory, yet cleverly played insults referencing a literary character you have never read about and a 10/10 English soccer player -hotness and skill-, we don't. Would you mind taking your homophobia, transphobia and general bitchine-"

"Wait, transphobia?" Kitty screwed up her face, while Rachel moaned, realising what she had said, all during Quinn's internal panic attack of him being accidentally outed. Shit, shit, double shit. "So, Fag Bono, when'd you start falling under such delusions that you, Lucy Quinn Fabray, could ever become a "real man"? Because last time you got fucked, taking from reliable sources, you. Had. A. Pussy. As for you, RuPaul, tell your disgusting perverts of dads I said hi. While you're at it, tell yourself that."

"Don't you dare talk to my girlfriend like that. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever." Quinn growled. "And I am a real man. Im more of a man than your boy over there is. I'm more of a man than him, the football team, hell, all the guys at McKinley. If your "boyfriend" over there was a man, he'd actually defend you when I say this. Rachel is more of a woman than you'll. Being a woman is being polite, kind, caring and self-empowered, which are traits that you don't have. Being a woman, or a man, or any gender isnt defined by your parts. Your slurs will never hurt either of us, so kindly," Quinn flipped her the birdie, "fuck off."

Kitty pondered the last few statements Quinn made. He could tell she was flustered.

"Whatever. I have fun at your little Freak Show, Dyke, RuPaul." Kitty motioned to her boyfriend, "Let's go, Josh. The freaks are tainting me."

RACHEL

Quinn let out a deep breath as he fell back into his seat.

"Wow. Just, wow. I can't believe that bitch came in and-" I cut him off.

"I'm so proud of you Quinn. I can't believe you stood up to her like that, and also defended me! You're my knight in shining armor."

"Thanks Rach. And hey, you're my girlfriend, boyfriends do that kind of thing. And the outing thing was... An experience... I forgive you. You were caught up in the moment. It just shows how much you've solidified my gender in your mind." Quinn smiled bashfully. He's so adorable when he does that.

"I am very glad you forgive me. You're the best boyfriend I have ever had." Quinn scoffed. "No, I'm serious. Noah was..? Noah. I was just a fling to him. Jesse St. James egged me after professing his un-love to me and betraying Glee Club. And Finn was, okay, don't tell anyone this, but unthoughtful, unromantic, unintelligent and just smelled really bad. Plus the angle of our heads when we kissed was exceedingly uncomfortable, as well as awkward. You are a vast, vast, improvement, Mister Fabray."

"Great. I beat out the town's manwhore, dickhead and resident giant. My confidence is through the roof." Quinn deadpanned.

"Quinn!" I slap him on the arm. "You're such a... A... A... Man!" I finally manage to sputter out. In my defense, I did not have time to properly form an insult. My insult wasn't even an insult.

"Wow, Rachel! I'm flattered by your compliment."

I groan.

"Okay, okay. Sarcasm, not your thing. I'll remember that."

I pout.

"Rachel, are you giving me the infamous Pout?"

I nod, still pouting. A grin is creeping up my face. Why does he have to be so charming and dreamy?

"Rachel Barbra Berry, are you giving me the silent treatment? I can't believe it. You are a sixteen year old woman, and pouting like a four year old."

Suddenly, I grab his tie and pull him across the table for a kiss. Mouth to mouth. His lips are moving over mine in a rhythmic pattern. Unlike Finn, he's an amazing kisser and isn't trying to suck my face off. I run my tongue on the bottom of his lip, asking for entrance. I could never do this with any other guy. They'd probably already be shoving their tongues down my throat, gross.

When we finally break off, I whisper in his ear huskily, "Would a four year old do that?"

The Next Morning

Quinn stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes raked over every inch of his body, fully naked. Assesing and judging. He glanced at his shoulders, which were broader than most biological female's were, They were also well muscled, from playing guitar and years of outdoor craft. They didn't bug him that much. He moved onto his breasts. His second least favourite body part. They were albeit, small, but still very there. He hated how they hung there, extra cancerous lumps he sure as hell did not want on his body. Quinn envisions male pectorals instead, gracing his upper chest with lean masculinity. It's so perfect in his mind, he can barely believe it is a very real possibility for himself. Next, his hips and abs fall under the scrutiny of his vision. Abdominals, not bad, he deems, although the slight dip inwards in his waist bugs Quinn. Hips are a whole different story. He hates how they jut out, just the slightest bit over the natural proportions of a male. It's so, so close to fixable, yet he doubts it ever will. Even testosterone can't change your bone structure.

The final piece of the hateful equation is the utterly smooth area directly below his stomach. He detests the area with a passion. Quinn should have standard male equipment there, not this girly flap of skin and a feeble patch of corse hair. He desperately hopes, wishes and dreams to wake up with a dick. Hell, he'd take morning wood, awkward erections, Finn's 'early arrival', anything, to feel complete. It hurts so, so, so much not to see what he wants in the mirror. Or when he looks down. Or when he catches a glimpse of himself in Blaine's ridiculously greased hair. Normality is so far away from Quinn, it's hard to remember its there.

Quinn pulls his gaze away from his disgusting reflection and gets dressed for school.

Quinn sits in the corner of the choir room, so terribly bored by all of these insufferable divas. Except for Rachel, of course. Her diva-ness was actually cute, and most certainly called for. Most of the time. Sometimes. A little bit. Even as her boyfriend, it's hard for Quinn to justify his little brunettes need for every solo, every number, every competition.

"Fellow glee clubbers," Quinn perked up at the sound of Rachel's bright soprano, "I have a proposition to make." Indistinct groans and mutters chorus around the room.

"Guys," Schue interjected, "Give Rachel some respect. She's always quiet when you guys sing, it's your turn to be quiet for her." The man sounds like he's scolding third graders, Quinn thought to himself.

"When we do sing. Girlfriend gets all the solos. Not diggin on Rach, but I gotta mention it."

Great. Mercedes barely saved her own skin after the last diva-off, Glee club really doesn't need another.

"Yeah," Santana spoke up, "how's come Little Miss Virgin Streissand gets all the good songs? If I hear her belt one more High F I'll go all Lima Heights on someone's ass, preferably Queen Diva."

"I thought your dad was Dr. Pepper. He fixed up my last catscratch. Arent doctors loaded, or something?"

"Not now Britt," Santana growled through her teeth.

"Guys, you're being really rude to Rachel! We'll discuss solos later, but right now Rachel has the floor. I'm disappointed." The Schue saves the day. Sort of. Quinn still thinks he's an idiot.

"Thank you Mr. Schuester. As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted," Rachel glances to Santana, who had to be restrained by Brittany, to avoid her going "All Lima Heights On Someone's Ass". Whatever that was, it was most likely a scary, gruesome homicidal whirlwind of pure Latina fury. Quinn, or anyone for that matter, did not want to be anywhere close when the day arrived. "I have a proposition for this weeks assignment." Mr. Schuester nods her on. Rachel smiles her glorious smile. Quinn wonders how the hell he got such a beautiful girlfriend, and on the first go, at that.

"I was thinking we could pair up with an instrumentalist,"

Oh shit, Rachel. What the hell is she thinking?

"And arrange a song that showcases their talent as musicians and our talent as singers in a harmonious and beautiful way."

Fuck fuck fuck I'm screwed. I will be outed. Someone will stumble into the room when she's calling me her fucking boyfriend and then they'll blab to Jewfro and Karofsky or some jock will beat me to mush and make my life a living hell. Shit shit shit.

"Rachel, that sounds like an excent idea! It'll push everyone to go a little out of their comfort zone!" Quinn groaned internally. God, he loved Rachel, but accidental outing would be detrimental to his already zero social status, and get himself killed by the jocks. No thanks.

"This time, I'll trust you guys to pick your own partners. You're already going to work hard, I'll give you a little break." There went Quinn's last chance at sanity as well as life. He was basically screwed.

RACHEL

"Rachel!" Kurt called to me in a singsong voice. I was over by my locker, just rearranging some things when he strutted over. I rather enjoy his company. Even though we are both major divas, we can diva together and not get in each others faces, unlike Mercedes or Santana and I.

"Kurt!" I called back.

"I am so excited for this weeks assignment! It will be fabulous."

"I know, I'm excited too. I've already laid claim on Quinn. You'd better not go anywhere near." I'm careful to avoid pronouns when speaking of Quinn. It feels like I'm betraying him, even though he can't hear me.

"Oh, the woodsy blonde guitarist? Cute, quiet, fashionable, If I wasn't dating Blaine... He's absolutely adorable. I wonder if he's bi... He seems like the type."

"Back off, Hummel, he's mine!" Kurt must think he's a biological guy. Quinn will be ecstatic to hear of this.

"Streissand's getting feisty! Do you, Miss Rachel Berry, have a crush on him?"

"it's more than a crush... We're kind of dating? But you can't tell anyone. Quinn wants to keep it quiet." I still avoid pronouns, just to be safe.

"You're a lucky girl. He better treat you right, or I'll have Blaine beat him up." I laugh.

"Kurt, Quinn's not going to hurt me..."

A figure stops and forms a triangle with Kurt and I around my locker.

"Hey Rachel, what're you guys talking about?" Barbra help me, Quinn's here.

"You." Kurt replies bluntly. He proceeds to advance onto Quinn, shoving their faces togther, "I was just saying that if you ever, ever do anything to hurt Berry, I will make my boyfriend hunt you down. Is that clear?" Quinn nods. Poor thing. "Good. With that being said, you sir are probably the second most sex-worthy boy at this school, behind Blaine of course." With a dramatic flourish, Kurt stalked off.

"What the hell, Rach?"

AN: For those of you who skipped, Kitty was introduced as the antagonist (I had to. All the bitchy girls were either in Glee (aka niceish in this AU) or Quinn). She said a bunch of slurs, got told off by both Quinn and Rachel and left absolutely flustered. Score 1 for Faberry. I'm sorry if Kitty ends up wildly OOC, I haven't gotten to her part on Glee. This was really hard to write, because of the angst involving so much personal feeling, and switching right back into fluff mode. But, anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!

Again, please review. It'll give you a new chapter *that* much sooner! Thank you all.