Hello Faberrians!

I am so, so, so sorry for the long delay on this chap! I plead holiday madness. (Really, my family was all crazy busy, and there was travel involved). I hope y'all didn't think I forgot you or this story. I did not! Please enjoy, and I promise the next chap will be more timely. And now, on to Faberry time!

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21 Jump Street: Faberry Style!

Chapter 4

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Quinn parked her car in front of the neat 2-story colonial house that matched the address written on the little scrap of paper in Rachel's perfect, bubbly letters. The blonde girl cut the engine and looked at herself in the rearview mirror for a few moments; first to check her makeup, then to scold herself.

"You're on the job, Fabray," She murmured quietly in the mirror, giving herself a very stern look as she stared back into her own hazel eyes. "No flirting unless it's for information. You're not a googly-eyed teenager, so stop acting like one." In fact, Quinn had never been a googly-eyed teenager; her own high school years had been spent brooding under the bleachers, smoking cigarettes (a habit she'd thankfully quit a long time ago) and generally being mad at the world.

With a little nod of determination, she stepped out of her car into the balmy suburban street, smoothing her Cheerios skirt as she skipped up the steps to the Berrys' front door. When she rang the bell, a little burst of nervous energy welled up in the center of her chest, and she took a deep breath, crossing her arms impatiently over her chest to try to force it back down. What the fuck is wrong with you? She cursed herself silently, shaking her head in chagrin. That was when Rachel opened the door, and the little knot of nerves in the center of Quinn's chest seemed to crack, and spread all the way through her body, dissolving into her fingers and toes.

"Hello Dianna," Rachel beamed, opening the door further and stepping back rather formally to invite the blonde girl into her house. "I'm so glad you could make it. Please come right in."

"Thanks," Quinn smiled back shyly, stepping over the threshold into the warm, inviting little house. Right away, she couldn't help comparing it to her own parents' house; where the Fabray house was cold and beautiful, like a museum, the Berry house was warm and alive, and currently full of delicious smells wafting in from the kitchen. Family pictures were everywhere; not the formal, stiff portraits that Quinn's parents had always insisted upon, but candid shots taken from actual real life. Little Rachel climbing an apple tree, smiling down at the camera with that same dazzling grin Quinn had seen so much of the last few days. Little Rachel in a tutu, on stage at a ballet recital; little Rachel sitting on the couch between two men, totally absorbed in a book of fairy tales as one of the men appeared to be reading while the other one cuddled her.

Rachel noticed her looking at the family photos, and stepped up beside her, carefully assessing the blonde girl's reaction. "I told you my dads are gay, didn't I?" she asked innocently.

"No," Quinn shrugged, a little surprised, but obviously not put off by the news. "They look nice. You...you all look happy."

"Yes, well, perks of being an only child," Rachel grinned back, with a slight roll of her dark brown eyes. "I'm afraid I've been rather spoiled all my life, if you couldn't tell already. What about you—any siblings?"

"I...no," Quinn shook her head, looking away from the happy family photos as she felt the sting of tears unexpectedly in her eyes. She didn't cry about Charlie anymore. She didn't cry about anything anymore, and certainly not in front of random girls she barely knew. Rachel, sensing she'd touched a nerve, hastily changed the subject.

"Well, come on then, let's go upstairs. Can I offer you a libation? It won't do to begin our vocal warmups if you're parched from cheerleading practice."

"Sure," Quinn smirked a little, charmed out of her momentary sadness by the other girl's quirky, oddly formal speech patterns and the way she was just so attentive. Rachel may have grown up spoiled, but obviously it was the right kind of spoiled—the kind that made her want to give her happiness to others, rather than demand it all for herself. Because she knew there would always be more.

Rachel lead Quinn down the short hallway to the kitchen, where one of the men from the family photos—the slightly shorter one, with curly, greying hair and sparkling blue eyes—was bent over a bubbling pot of tomato sauce, stirring and singing to himself and wearing a Kiss the Chef apron. He looked up from his cooking at the sound of their footsteps, and gave them both a very kind smile.

"Well who do we have here?" he asked, laying down his wooden mixing spoon beside the pot and wiping his hands on his apron.

"Daddy, this is Dianna. She just transferred from Columbus, and she's the newest member of the glee club."

"Lovely to meet you, Dianna," LeRoy Berry reached out and shook her hand. "Do you girls need a snack before dinner? It will be at least another hour."

"Oh, I'm fine," Quinn shook her head, unused to being offered these kinds of small kindnesses. In her real life, she'd been taking care of herself for a long, long time. Even before she'd left her parents house.

"You sure?" Rachel raised an eyebrow skeptically as she pulled two water bottles from the fridge. "I know what Coach Sue's workout routines are like. Can't have you keeling over from low blood sugar in the middle of a verse."

"Really, Rach, I'm fine," Quinn smiled, cocking her head to the side. It was such a genuine smile, it made her hazel eyes sparkle, and Rachel couldn't help but smile back. LeRoy noticed the way they were smiling at each other, but didn't say anything; instead he just grinned into his tomato sauce.

"Okay," the little starlet shrugged giddily, handing over one of the water bottles and keeping one for herself. "We'll be upstairs rehearsing, Daddy!"

"Have fun, girls!" LeRoy called after their retreating forms; but Quinn barely heard him. She was too focused on Rachel's hand slipping into hers, pulling her down the hall and up the stairs.

They arrived in a bright yellow bedroom with a canopy bed and a large vanity mirror; and suddenly, Rachel became even more formal than usual, instructing Quinn on how to stand and how to breathe before even getting to the warm-up exercises. Then she whipped out a digital stopwatch and set the timer to 15 minutes. Quinn chuckled.

"Olympic vocal warmups, huh?" the blonde girl teased gently. Rachel huffed indignantly and blew her bangs back from her face.

"Just because the vocal muscles can't throw footballs or twirl batons doesn't mean they're not working hard, you know," the dark-haired girl lectured, suddenly looking very stern as she put her hands on her hips. "Proper warmups are a crucial part of a vocalist's strength, endurance and projection. And furthermore..."

Quinn couldn't help it; she began to giggle. Rachel was just so serious all of a sudden, and it was such a sharp contrast to the cartoonishly cheerful vibe of her canopied bedroom, and she was just so gut-wrenchingly adorable as she tried to be stern. The blonde girl's giggles completely derailed the little diva's train of thought, and the lecture on the importance of vocal warmups came grinding to a halt. Rachel bit her lip, trying to hold back a grin. She didn't want to reward this bad behavior.

"You're such a brat," the dark-haired girl giggled, smiling hugely.

"You're such a bossypants," Quinn countered, smiling back. When both of their giggles subsided, there was a moment of awkward silence between them; then the timer beeped, and Rachel leapt forward and began teaching Quinn their first warm-up.

Nearly an hour later, Quinn was flushed-faced and breathless, and had to admit that singing, when done properly, was indeed a physically exerting activity just as Rachel had warned her. She'd learned her parts for two of the three songs she'd been given, and she thought she sounded pretty damn good, considering how spontaneous this whole glee club thing had been, and how unprepared she was; but Rachel still wasn't quite satisfied.

"That's good, Di, it really is. But it's not resonant. You need to sing out from your diaphragm in order to project from your lower register."

"I don't know how to sing from my diaphragm," Quinn whined, feeling tired now and irritable at how meticulous Rachel was being about all this singing business. "I just know how to sing from my mouth."

"Oh, dear...I'm going about this wrong," Rachel sighed, shaking her head as she took a step closer to the blonde girl. "You're so talented, Dianna, really you are, I just keep forgetting that you don't have any formal training. I'm sorry, please allow me to demonstrate."

"Well shucks, when you say it like that..." Quinn teased gently, some of the sparkle coming back into her eyes. Rachel's olive skin flushed slightly pink.

"Okay, so...when you sing from your diaphragm...you're using these muscles here." Without warning, the little starlet took Quinn's hand and pressed it over her own stomach, just above the bellybutton. Both of her hands held Quinn's hand against her skin. Then she sang out three clear notes; low, high, low, so Quinn could feel the difference in her stomach muscles.

"There, you see?" Rachel asked gently. Quinn just nodded, suddenly feeling very shy. "Now you try," the dark-haired girl encouraged, letting go of Quinn's hand over her stomach, and slipping her own hand lightly under Quinn's Cheerios top, resting her palm over Quinn's bellybutton in the same way. They were standing less than a foot apart. Hesitantly, Quinn slipped her own hand over Rachel's, holding it against the bare skin of her stomach; and then it was like the rest of the world fell away completely. No past, no future, no drug bust, no dead sister, nothing. Everything that existed was right here in front of her, this girl with the piercing brown eyes and the voice of an angel, one hand on her stomach, thumb rubbing lightly over her bellybutton now. It was such an innocent touch, but it lit up Quinn's whole body in a way she'd never felt before. She felt so connected to Rachel in that moment, so impossibly close, so safe...like nothing bad could ever, ever happen to her as long as this girl was touching her. Vocal exercises completely forgotten, Quinn leaned in and cupped her free hand to Rachel's cheek; and Rachel automatically tilted her chin up, eyes wide, with absolutely nothing to say for once.

"It's okay if I kiss you, right?" Quinn whispered, leaning her forehead against Rachel's.

"Yes," Rachel nodded breathlessly, leaning up on her tiptoes in anticipation. Quinn closed the short distance between their lips, and what little was left of the world melted away.

They had somehow managed to migrate from the middle of the room to Rachel's canopied bed (though they stayed on top of the sheets, and still had all their clothes on) when a soft knock on the door made them spring apart like an electric shock. Quinn actually fell over backwards in her haste to scramble off the bed.

"Girls? Dinner's ready," LeRoy smirked a little too innocently when he popped his head in. "Dad just got home from work, honey, so you can both have a few minutes to, uh...freshen up." He grinned, and Rachel threw a pillow at him. Quinn's face flushed even redder than it had been a minute ago.

"Mr. Berry, I...I..." Quinn stammered adorably. Rachel squeezed her hand reassuringly, and gave her a crooked grin.

"You can call me LeRoy, honey," Rachel's dad chuckled. "And I'll make this easy for you, all right? My kid likes you, so I like you. Simple as that. Break her heart, and we'll be having a very different conversation. Capiche?" Quinn just nodded dumbly. "All right then, dinner's in five. Get yourselves straightened up, girls. Heh." He winked, and Rachel rolled her eyes.

"You're not funny!" She called after him as he left the room. Then she turned back to Quinn, beaming. "Wow, Di. He really likes you."

"Really?" Quinn raised an eyebrow doubtfully. "How do you know?" Certainly, Rachel's dad had been gracious, but she'd assumed that was due more to his own good manners than anything she'd done.

"Because..." Rachel scooted off the bed and wrapped her arms around Quinn's neck, leaning in to kiss her lightly on the tip of her cute little nose. "He always made Finn call him Mr. Berry."