AN: Alright, this was supposed to be a short one-shot and was the reason Chapter 3 of my other story took so long. Basically, this takes place during Blame It On The Alcohol, after the ?Blainchel? duet, because that wasn't the end of the night. While this is obviously not canon, it is supposed to take place behind the scenes and play into canon. Everything that happens afterward is just like on the show. Enjoy!

It Happened One Night

Quinn flopped herself onto a nearby couch, scowling as she took a sip of the mixed drink in her hand. The sharp taste just made her scowl further. Some might find it funny that she, a member of the popular crowd and thus someone who actually spent time in parties, had no tolerance for either the taste or the effects of alcohol, but there was a reason she mostly stuck to wine coolers. Though, stupid as it sounds, she'd been avoiding those since…that night.

She was actually having a mostly decent time, at least once Rachel opened up the liquor cabinet. It was annoying because she knew, even in her drunken state, why she was enjoying herself. She had been keeping such a tight lid on her frustrations this year, avoiding some of her harsher impulses and trying to be the better person. She had, of course, still had a couple of moments she couldn't control, but even those were unfortunate necessities to regaining her place. She had even been playing nice (mostly) with Rachel "Manhands" Berry.

But the flow of alcohol was numbing the need to hold on so tightly to her emotions and it was all bubbling out. And it felt fantastic. Refreshing. Alcohol always made her feel so much worse, but so much freer at the same time. Sure, she felt a little more insecure about things, and who wouldn't with Sam attached at the lips with Santana and Berry clinging to Finn like he was the last lifeboat off the Titanic. Or maybe she was clinging to the sinking ship. Heh. But mostly, she just felt royally pissed off about everything. And anger was such an easy, safe emotion, and so cathartic to release. Maybe she couldn't let loose during the school day, she was trying to regain and maintain her popularity not make it worse after all, and she couldn't release it at home with her mom, but this party and the alcohol was really loosening her up and making everything so simple.

She was staying away from Sam-tana, though, knowing that Santana would probably just end up bawling and she'd just look like a bitch and she really wasn't ready to talk to Sam yet. And, while she could think of a million and one ways to release that anger with Stubble McUgly-Dress, it didn't seem like the smartest idea to yell at the host of the party. Luckily, she had a whole lot of bottled up aggression festering in her mind at Puck, whose personality did a complete 180 when wasted.

Then Rachel, for some reason, called for a game of Spin the Bottle, probably hoping for a chance to make-out with Finn, and her anger chew toy was taken away. She participated, reluctantly, sharing a quick peck with Mike, but mostly just sat there and glared, occasionally throwing a punch or empty bottle of alcohol at Puck, whose was hanging all over Mike for some reason. She really didn't want the bottle to hit her again. Mike was bad enough, at least he was a gentlemen, but she already had to make out with Finn if she wanted prom queen (and she did want prom queen, like a lot) and she didn't like the idea of swapping spit with a random guy for fun. She flinched a little, averting her eyes, as she watched Brittany and Sam make out, definitely more tongue than necessary, until Santana pulled him away.

She didn't even know why she was playing this stupid game. Stupid Rachel for asking everyone to join in, looking hopeful for what was pathetically probably her first real party game. Not to mention Santana saying no, crying about something as Rachel tried to hug it out, and too busy stomping around the room sobbing to sit still for the bottle to land on her. And if Santana said no then Quinn had to say yes, show everyone she was better.

Spin the bottle did not lead to the fun that Rachel had promised, however. All it led to was a painful to watch kiss between the only other blondes in glee club and …wow. Apparently Rachel really was enthusiastic about this game.

At the spin of the bottle, and against protest from Kurt, Rachel began sucking face with Kurt's pseudo-boyfriend, whose name was apparently Blaine Warbler. Quinn didn't care. According to Mercedes, he was just another boy who Kurt was crushing on that didn't feel the same way, but was at least gay. Although he didn't look very gay right now, drowning in Rupaul's lips.

Then again, that was probably the appeal. Quinn looked closer at the kiss despite herself, noticing that they were definitely using tongue. Blake – or whatever his name was – was probably getting confused by how masculine Stubbles was. And apparently Rachel, who Quinn was sure was still completely into Finn, just took to whatever dark-haired male lead of a glee club happened to be closest. Finn, Jesse, and this Warbler fit, and even Puck only went out with her after he sang a Sweet Caroline.

Quinn wrinkled her nose in disgust at the pair, but at least Manhands is finally getting some gain from her complete lack of femininity. Quinn is sure she hears an audible pop as the two separate.

"You taste awesome," Rachel croons, starry-eyed at her kissing partner (for a game, seriously). "I think I found my new duet partner!" she yells to the crowd, pulling Brent up with her.

Quinn wants to laugh for a moment, and she sees Mercedes and Tina giving into the impulse, because, of course, Rachel's sexuality is just so freakishly tied into music that one kiss equals a duet to further test compatibility. Quinn imagined it in her head…

Rachel Berry's Guide to Choosing a Future Leading Man

Physically, he must be somewhat taller than one Rachel Berry – who is of course completely normal height – and be good-looking with dark hair.

Willing and able to sing in front of an audience and have a physical stage presence and voice that is compatible with one Rachel Berry.

Being somewhat attracted to one Rachel Berry is a positive, but not necessary.

Also, willingness to stand up and be a leader or stick up for one Rachel Berry is also appreciated, but once again not required.

It was pathetic. It didn't seem to matter if the boy was gay, an idiot, a spy, or someone who used to throw Slushees in her face. As long as he looked and sounded nice with her, they could treat her like trash and she would still throw herself at them and praise them and not call them sharp.

The only thing worse than Rachel's taste in men was how easily they were drawn into her Siren's Song. Apparently even gay men (probably due to her manly appearance) found the troll irresistible.

Although, considering how much Blade looks like a hobbit and the stupid faces he's making as he sings, maybe the two really are meant to be. If Rachel's going to be a big Broadway star, she'll probably have many gay boyfriends in her career. As Rachel finally joins in on the song, her cloudy alcohol infused mind lets go of the anger a little bit and just enjoys the song.

It was probably the single most annoying thing about Rachel. She might dress like her closet threw up on her and acts like she needs an instruction manual on being a teenager, but put her on a stage and Quinn is lost. Even when she was singing with Finn the first time around, Quinn barely ever felt the anger or jealousy while the girl was singing. Afterwards, when she thought of what they were doing and who Finn was touching, sure, she wanted to murder the both of them. But as long as Rachel was singing…everything was fine in the world.

The performance was fun. It was, even with the two hobbits being quite drunk, noticeably so, very good. Quinn thinks, barring laryngitis, it was impossible for Rachel to sound bad. Even as the two hopped around the stage and swayed and stumbled around, they looked like they were having a blast and Rachel looked relaxed. Quinn found herself wondering how often Rachel just sang for the hell of it. She knew the girl loved performing, but most of the time those performances were tied to displaying her talent or winning a competition. She wonders what it would be like to be on the stage with Rachel, singing just for fun and not really worrying about being pitchy or breathy or sharp. Rachel would still be better than her, but they'd sound great together. Probably better than Berry's wannabe boyfriend, Blank. Wait, that's not even a name…Blair? Bart? Benjamin? Darren?

Whatever!

She didn't even want to be here. She liked Glee Club. She liked performing with them and they were incredible during her fall from grace. Sometimes it was emotionally draining, but it was still so much better than Cheerios, even if she was less likely to gain anything long term from it. And, as much as the boys complained about it, girls don't really get flak for being a part of Glee. But she was on the outs with half the people in the room and it was at Rachel Berry's – her arch-nemesis/victim/romantic rival – house. But she had to go. She couldn't be the only one not going, and she especially couldn't leave Finn alone with Quasimodo, especially with alcohol involved.

Stupid Puck and his need to create a freakin' party at all times. He just wanted a place for alcohol and sex so why did she have to get drawn into this. Stupid drunk Puck, who was incessantly needy and clingy (currently draped over Sam) and didn't know the meaning of personal space. At least he stayed away from her when she yelled at him…she hated it when he grabbed at her.

Her glass was empty…that sucked. She left the safety of the couch to scour for more alcohol, chuckling as she watched the sober Kurt pull the Warbler away from where he and Rachel were falling all over each other.

Good. The last thing Quinn wanted to see was another walking microphone drooling all over Rachel for the rest of the night. It always made her stomach turn when she saw Rachel throwing herself at guys. It was disgusting. The two would probably be making out again if not for Kurt and his claims that the other boy wasn't in his right mind and had to be taken home.

If Kurt was a typical boy, Quinn would worry about the Warbler being the one taken advantage of, but Quinn guesses Kurt would have no idea what to do with a willing boy.

She watched Rachel put on an annoying pout – like a kicked mutt or a brat whose favorite toy was taken away – as Kurt prissily pulled Warbler away from the girl, giving what appeared to be a half-hearted goodbye. It was his own fault for bringing his wannabe boyfriend to a party to get drunk and decide to stay sober. He wouldn't be calling foul if he was the one drunkenly making out with the other boy, but instead he was left wishing he was Rachel again.

Unfortunately, Quinn must have stared a little too long, because Rachel's eyes find hers and her mopey face lights up like a Christmas tree, or a Hanukah candle thing (just because Puck was Jewish didn't mean she knew anything about it, okay). Rachel struts and stumbles her way over – the combination hilarious to watch, but Quinn is too pissed off with herself for the maintained eye contact to laugh – and flops down on the couch.

Of course, whether by accident or on purpose, Rachel ended up half-draped over Quinn. Quinn does try to shove her off gently a little, but for every push away just led to Rachel falling right back into her and Quinn gives up, deciding it's an exercise in futility.

Besides, at least it was better than Puck who was back to hanging on Mike Chang. When Puck was all over her earlier, before Lauren pulled him away and Quinn lit into him about her poor missing abs – he was heavy and big and smelled like sweaty boy. Rachel was light…soft.

Quinn breathed deeply for a moment – and she smelled like lavender – before she restrained herself. She wasn't that drunk…yet.

Rachel peered at her through hooded eyes, and she was really, really close.

"What do you want Rupaul," she spit out petulantly. It had been a while since she had called Rachel that to her face, but she was in a mood right now. Still, even as angry as she was, she was also fairly exhausted. The anger was burning, humming underneath her skin, but, at least after her ranting at Puck, it felt like the anger had gone into hibernation, leaving her feeling tired and sulky.

Still, even if she wasn't actively exploding at the moment, she did not have the energy or patience to deal with Rachel Berry. Just because she was secretly dating the boy Rachel was in love with (hence the somewhat guilt inspired, half-hearted friendliness earlier) didn't mean she had to coddle the girl.

"Hey girlfriend," Rachel giggled, way to peppy for the amount of alcohol Quinn is sure she's consumed. A chill ran through her body as Rachel's breath tickled her neck.

Quinn scowled and gave another half-hearted shrug, hissing at the younger girl, "Don't be weird."

To her chagrin, the shove actually did push Rachel off her and she started to slip right of the couch. Whether it was basic human decency or instinct born of hours of intensive Cheerios training, Quinn's first reaction to a falling person, even Rachel Berry, was to catch them. She overreached though, or something, because, instead of stopping Berry's fall, she just ends up going down with her.

It's a mass of limbs on the floor. Quinn is, of course, on top of the other girl, but the arm that had been leading her futile prevention attempt is somehow stuck underneath her. Their legs are tangled together. Quinn tries to get up, bracing her free arm against the coffee table, but Rachel is managing to pin her arm against the floor and pulling at it leads to uncomfortable twist against the couch.

"Shit," Quinn mumbles to herself as she tries to free herself, hissing in pain when her hair gets caught with her arm. The other girl is useless as she giggles inanely from her place on the floor. "Stop giggling like a moron and use your mannish hands to help me up."

Rachel smiles up at her, ignoring the insults, and starts squirming underneath her, trying to get some leverage to pull herself up. Unfortunately, all the squirming does is push harshly against Quinn's trapped arm and the blond lets out an undignified shriek. Rachel stops at once, brow furrowing in thought.

She abruptly smiles and, one hand bracing against the couch, wraps the other arm against Quinn and, trusting Quinn to hold them both up, pulls herself off the ground, tightly against the other girl.

Quinn freezes and sputters, "What are you doing?" And, just for the record, she only froze because of the intensive Cheerio training. Otherwise, she would have jerked away, but Cheerios trains you not to jerk away when some is pushed against you or grabs you because then people fall and necks get broken…and stuff.

"You can move your arm now," Rachel laughs, apparently amused at the whole situation, or, you know, drunk.

"Oh," Quinn mutters softly, mostly to herself, as she quickly pulls her arm away. Regaining her footing, she uses her freed limb to push herself into an upright position. She grabs the other girl somewhat roughly and pulls her back into the couch. She tries not to take any malicious glee from the brief flinch as she grabs Rachel, but the girl did just make her look like a fool and her anger tended to get the best of her when she was drunk.

Pure drunken honesty for a moment, though. She did feel a little guilty as the girl rubbed her arm. It was just so hard. She spent most of her days walking around consumed in her anger. That sounded dramatic. It was just… before she got pregnant, she had Sylvester harping at her and Finn constantly pawing at her and acting like a moron. Puck was just always around acting sleazy and she had to keep one eye on Santana at all times. Her Dad was always harping on her to be perfect at all times and her mom just watched, drink in hand. And Rachel was just always around…hanging in the background, somehow catching her attention.

And she couldn't let it loose, this anger. Some people let their emotions go naturally, but Quinn always had to keep calm, keep control, and maintain the mask. And she couldn't release it through exercise like some people did because her exercise was the Cheerios and it was all calm, focused control. Mind over matter and no passion involved.

She still remembers that time in the hallway when Rachel told her to practice because she "clearly" had a lot to express. Before glee, she had no creative form of expression. Cheerios took up all her time, and that was Sue Sylvester expressing herself through the Cheerios.

That's not completely true. The closest thing she had to expressing herself and releasing her emotions, barring those times she let loose and yelled at Finn (which weren't many pre-pregnancy, she always maintained a strict calm persona, excellent for keeping him in line without scaring him off) was torturing Rachel. The variety of degrading nicknames (she made it a point to never use one twice in a week), the ingenious insults and tortures, and the fantastic drawings. She and Santana once skipped History because Quinn had figured out Rachel's schedule to the minute and had this elaborate verbal back and forth set up. Unfortunately, this required waiting around in the bathroom stalls for a while, but Quinn used this time to add a new porn drawing to her collection in the stall. It was such a good way to express herself, but it just didn't work once she got pregnant.

She had tried and tried, but Berry always looked at her with those big eyes full of kindness and stuff, and Quinn got flustered. She even admitted to the drawings! And singing just didn't do it for her... well, not really well. She tried, but she just wasn't…she was no Rachel Berry. The one time she came close was when they did funk and Berry wasn't even there to see her!

She had told Sam at the beginning of the year that she was going to go back to torturing Rachel, because it really was the best way to relieve herself. She had to be really careful with her interactions with everyone else since she was rebuilding her reputation, but everyone found Rachel to be an acceptable target. They felt the Slushees and insults were okay, as long as it was Rachel, so it would help rather than hurt her popularity. Plus, the torture, along with her fight with Santana, helped spread a little fear for those that had forgotten who the top dog was.

She knew it wasn't really the girl's fault. Yes, her outfits were horrible and she could not seem to keep her mouth shut, but it's not like Rachel ever intentionally caused problems for other people. It was just that something about her rubbed Quinn the wrong way, inciting those brief rushes of emotions and she just wanted lash out at the girl. It was disgusting. Rachel had no right to inspire any emotions in her, especially considering how apathetic Rachel seemed to be.

Quinn guesses that she wouldn't have come down so hard on the other girl if she could have just reacted like a normal person for once when it came to Quinn. The very first time they met, Quinn had picked apart Berry's outfit (the sight of it had sent Brittany crying, so Rachel was lucky it was her and not Santana around) and instead of cowering or being happy that Quinn had deigned to speak to her, Rachel had walked off, head held high. The next day, there was a nine page paper, in proper MLA format, explaining why her outfit had been suitable and fashionable.

Right now, though, with Rachel Berry, biggest loser in the school, laughing at her, she felt that same twitch of emotion that usually led to Slushees and insults. Before she could act, though, Rachel acts as though she didn't just climb all over her and fluster her and laugh at her. Rachel shifts around to make herself more comfortable on the couch and ends up basically in her lap.

The other girl is apparently pretending they're all old friends – or something – and links their arms together and makes herself at home on top of Quinn.

Quinn scowls fiercely but resists the urge to shove her away. Instead, she just pulls the girl tighter against her to make sure neither of them end up back on the floor.

"Are you enjoying yourself Quinn," Rachel says, face pressed against her neck making Quinn squirm away. Quinn thinks that straight from Rachel's 'hey girlfriend' that the younger girl is recreating their earlier, sober "conversation." Maybe that's the reason she came over in the first place, wanting affirmation on her party's coolness from the most popular girl here.

So Rachel probably Quinn to respond enthusiastically that she was having a blast. Which she wasn't.

She wasn't enjoying this.

"No, not really…or at all," Quinn whispered harshly, hoping to rile the girl up.

Even though Quinn was looking right at Rachel, the younger girl pulled herself out of Quinn's grasp so that she could face Quinn fully, bracing each of her hands on Quinn's shoulders to maintain upright. Judging by the intense expression, Rachel was concentrating hard on her next move.

Rachel was looking right into her eyes and put on what Quinn could only assume was a practiced pout, very overdramatic and rehearsed. She resisted the urge to laugh and the urge passed her anger, quiet and sullen though it may be, flooded back and gave her strength.

"Why not," Rachel exclaimed, still staring straight into her eyes but slightly unfocused – Quinn's pretty sure that Rachel's even more of a lightweight than her – "I let you guys have everything. There's alcohol and you get to sit on things! I even organized a sexually stimulating game! People kissed!"

"Gee, with alcohol, kissing, and sitting, how could this party be anything but a fun time!" Quinn sneered, enjoying the rush that came from an argument. "Must be the company! Who did you get your party advice from – Puck?"

"Yes," Rachel replied seriously, "and Finn."

Rachel's nonchalance took the wind from her sails a little and she replied with less steam, "Oh, well that probably wasn't smart. Finn's a moron and listening to Puck leaves you a whale for 9 months and then your body is never the same…like my abs."

Rachel gasped…dramatically.

"You shut your mouth Quinn Fabray! Your stomach is…awesome!" Rachel gushed, reaching her hand to brush against Quinn's stomach, her face a picture of exaggerated concern.

Quinn swallowed thickly. She never really thought of herself as shallow, at least not more than is expected of a teenager, even though she knows others do. She's on the high honor roll – and that's through Sylvester, Glee Club, and a pregnancy – and is probably the only one at the school who has gone through real experiences like creating life and being homeless.

But she loves compliments. She doesn't like the idea that she puts stock in what other people say and think, but she always feels like she is what other people make her out to be. Before the pregnancy, her mood depended a lot on what her parents would say, but she rarely heard anything positive even outside her home. Her friendship with Santana and Brittany was never the kind where they sat around gushing about each other, rather they sat around and put other people down. And Finn had always been useless in knowing what to say.

It was the reason she had ended up naked underneath Puck. "Not Fat" wasn't the greatest compliment, but it was more than what most were giving at the time. Her mom had brought up the idea of some non-Cheerios exercise plans that morning and Finn was sniffing at other, tinier girls and the alcohol he had fed her just made her feel so weak and angry. She was mad at her Daddy and Finn and Puck was there, the worst possible candidate according to those two, and he was so nice, telling her she wasn't fat. He wanted her.

And Sam had been great with compliments. He was sweet and popular – acceptable – but also free with his words, telling her she had lovely eyes, in a somewhat dorky manner.

Flattery really was the best way to get on her good side it seemed.

She had to shut this down.

"Whatever," she dismissed hoarsely, "Puck ruined my body, forever. He destroyed it and it doesn't look… doesn't feel the same"

It was true. She had done nothing but work out all summer and completely destroyed her pregnancy diet. She was apparently good enough for the horndogs at school, but they leapt at anything that moved. Sue Sylvester had to be convinced to take her back and had hounded her about her body until the day she quit. Santana still called her tubers. She was passable, but not great. She had worked so hard to get as close to perfect as possible, but now…now her proportions were messed up and her body just didn't fit right.

"Oh Quinn," Rachel murmured, cuddling against her in a way that made her feel somewhat uncomfortable. Itchy. "Your body is awesome. Other people, everyone, looks at your body and wants it. You're beautiful. Amazing. Awesome."

Rachel looked sincere, like she meant it, but she also looked like a dog waiting for a treat.

It made sense. As far as Quinn knew, and Quinn sort of prided herself on knowing, Rachel had little to no real friend interactions. Like, according to Mercedes, Rachel had apparently started to hang out with Kurt some, which meant that she hung out with Mercedes a couple times, but it hadn't really shifted Mercedes opinion much.

Mercedes somehow managed to be perfectly nice and tolerant with her outside of glee, but kept their somewhat strained, competitive relationship during it.

Rachel, though, was apparently getting a little better at social interactions. Enough to feel like she was doing a good job in this drunken encounter. Rachel probably figured that the alcohol was eliminating her intrinsic weirdness and creating a sisterhood of comradery or something.

And right now, considering the light flutter in her stomach – she hoped she wasn't gonna vomit – she was willing to give Rachel this. Well, not give…it wasn't like she was being nice or anything. Rachel was still a freak, but Quinn gets this. It's a give and take, an exchange of services. Standard operating procedure.

So she hugs the girl closely – hugging is a friend thing, right? – tightly, smiling as the other girl immediately hugs back. She was more than drunk enough to enjoy the compliments even if the source was somewhat shifty, and she was savvy enough to know what sort of thing the girl would want in return. Aside from solos, friendship – even the one night only pretense of friendship Quinn was offering – is what the girl desires, so she can pretend. She'll just be nice to Rachel and cuddle on the couch or whatever like friends, and Rachel will tell her everything she wants to hear. It's a better deal than she's had in the past.

Figuring the hug was more than enough for now, Quinn pulled away, shrugging off the other girl when Rachel doesn't immediately let go.

Rachel, doe-eyed and smiling softly, somehow manages to cling to her arm even as she pulled away. But, aside from a quick yawn – it's probably past the midget's bedtime (and she doesn't find that cute) – Rachel keeps her mouth closed.

That was equal, right? One compliment equals one friendship hug and the continued allowance of cuddling. Is Rachel demanding more? What else can she do at this point in the party? Guys were easy, up the teasing a little, bring out the big guns (boobs (under the shirt, but over the bra)), and they were putty (for the most part). But Rachel just rests her head against Quinn's shoulder, apparently satisfied with the current situation.

Quinn gently lays her head against Rachel's, feeling somewhat settled, or at least not seething in anger. But she still wants more. Rachel might seem satisfied, but the girl is so quiet and calm and, as Quinn glances down mostly out of the corner of her eyes, looks like she could fall asleep on Quinn's shoulder. This is completely different from how Rachel is most of the time, and Quinn knows it is not due to the alcohol because this Rachel is also completely different than the excited mess she had seen moments ago, dancing and singing on stage. A fresh flush of fury flows over her at the thought. Rachel had been so happy with what's his face and found Quinn so boring she just wanted to sleep on her shoulder. She jerks away from the other girl, jumping of the couch and ignoring Rachel who, still somewhat clingy, had ended up sprawled the floor on the confusion.

"I need another drink," Quinn announced, realizing that she had no idea where her old cup was but happy for the excuse. She marches to the table where all the alcohol has hastily been set up and grabs a new glass. She quickly mixes some rum and diet coke for herself. She was never much of a drinker so she is still experimenting with she might like, but she tried it earlier and sort of likes it. She wonders for a moment how Rachel is planning on replacing the alcohol, or how Rachel managed to buy the wine coolers that she alone has been drinking. She blinks at the idea of Rachel having a fake idea – and wants to laugh at the image of her using said ID to do something illegal like buy alcohol – but quickly shifts the thought to the back of her mind. It's not her problem.

She does grab a fresh wine cool for Rachel while she's over there. Taking a quick sip from her cup, she looks around the room for Rachel, sort of forgetting exactly where they were. And she finds her, but definitely not where she left her.

Somehow, in the scant five minutes it took to get the drinks, Rachel had somehow managed to get cornered by Santana of all people. Quinn stomped off with a growl. Not even her decision to stay away from certain home wreckers would stop her from reclaiming what was currently hers. She had gotten the girl a drink and everything.

For whatever reason, Santana was not taunting the younger girl, but instead bawling her eyes out while Rachel was softly petting her hair like one would pet a dog. Rachel should know better though, considering, if anything, Santana would be the stray, possibly feral dog that begs for scraps and then jumps you when you're not looking.

Her blood was pounding and when she saw Santana reach out for Rachel, she just reacted, grabbing Rachel's hand and pulling her away. She gave a small shove a Santana, but didn't actually talk to the other girl, more occupied with getting Rachel away. She didn't notice Santana staring passed the two of them to where Brittany and Sam were awkwardly dancing together.

"What are you doing?" Quinn hissed, pausing to take another sip of her drink and shoving Rachel's at her, "You hate Santana!"

Rachel stared at the drink in confusion for a moment, perhaps wondering if it was hers, before taking a small sip at it and focusing on Quinn.

"She was crying…" Rachel began obliviously, in a tone that somewhat eerily reminded Quinn of Brittany. "When people are crying, it means they're sad or broken. When people are sad, it means they need comforting." Throughout the somewhat stumbled speech, Rachel's overly expressive face showed the compassion that Quinn rarely sees in others, as well as a confusion that Quinn rarely sees in Rachel.

"Not Santana! She's such a bitch! And she took Sam from me and basically Finn from you and insults both of us, like, all the time," Quinn shrieks, grabbing Rachel's hand and pulling her as far away from Santana as possible. Rachel looks at her in confusion.

"Everybody insults me…and most girls are…bitches. She was more like a…cat-a-lyst…not the reason. Finn was…he broke up with me because of me…but we had something! I didn't imagine it. I don't like-like Santana but I don't hate her. I don't hate anyone or else…I think…I'd hate everyone," Rachel confesses, somewhat loudly at first, and drunkenly stumbling over her words while trying to force them out. As soon as she mentions Finn, though, she gets quieter and her gaze becomes fixated on the floor.

"Plus," Rachel continues in that quiet, broken, voice, "It's my party. I don't want people crying at my party. It's supposed to be fun."

Quinn squints at the girl, trying to get some understanding on what she heard. She brushes through most of the first part, it's too emotional for her to deal with right now, and focuses on the ending. A rush of relief occurs as she realizes that Rachel's act of kindness had nothing to do with Santana and everything to do with Rachel's constant need for perfection and approval. At least, that was how she was interpreting it.

She's glad that Rachel's not replacing her with Santana. Some people (like Sam her mind whispers traitorously) view them as interchangeable – popular Head Bitches In Charge who used to be Cheerios – with the main difference being their different levels of promiscuity – Quinn not being a slut and Santana never saying no. Still it burns that she would so easily try to comfort Santana.

Because she was all over Kurt's wannabe boyfriend who is, to quote Rachel, able to sing "awesomely." And right from the beginning, Rachel was hanging on Quinn's secret boyfriend, also known as Rachel Rachel's preferred duet partner. And Santana…Santana has one of the best voices in glee club. Not better than Rachel of course, but certainly better than her own. She knows that her voice is nice, but it has been called weak and breathy, occasionally sharp. Of the two of them, Quinn figures she's more likely the reason team tied instead of winning at Sectionals rather than Santana.

Why would Rachel want to stay and compliment her and snuggle or whatever when she could hang with Santana and comfort sing to Santana or be all musically promiscuous with gay boys. Quinn blinks away the angry tears because, as she just mentioned, she is not freaking Santana and she's not going to burst into tears because of some alcohol.

She realizes she won't be able to pull Rachel any further away (they're in a basement, the room is sort of limited) and angrily turns to the other, suspiciously quiet girl as a thought hits her.

"Is that why you're being so nice to me?" she interrogates, trying to ignore the doubt that has begun to gnaw at her.

"What," Rachel responds, eyes wide in confusion as she nervously tears at thelabel on her wine cooler. But Quinn isn't fooled.

"Cool the innocent eyes, Berry. You know what I mean. Are you just being nice to me so my violent, violent rage doesn't screw up you perfect little party?" Quinn seethes, staring right at Rachel. And because she is staring so closely, she sees the furrowed brow that doesn't go away as Rachel tries unsuccessfully to follow the conversation.

Quinn sighs in frustration. Dealing with drunk Rachel reminds her alarmingly of dealing with sober Finn. Rachel's inability to understand has taken some of the wind out of her sails, but she continues to try and make her point.

"Are. You. Nice. So. I. Won't. Yell?" Quinn glumly spits out.

"Oh!" Rachel pipes, face the perfect picture of dawning comprehension complete with a proud smile. The smile fades as she fully understands the question. "Oh. I mean, no! That would have been… counter-productive!" and she seems proud that she got the word out "You get angry whenever I talk so…I just wanted to know if you were having fun…and you said no. I was trying to help you have fun so that you could have fun." Rachel is nodding a little too much and it's the nodding that's making Quinn dizzy, not the words Rachel just spewed out.

It was a little weird to think Rachel just wanted her to have a good time considering how snide the two of them could be with each other. But it was…nice, because no one else seemed to care. Outside of the glee club, everyone respected her – or at least feared her, but somehow inside of it was a different story. They seemed to like her well enough, sometimes, but it often seemed like nobody liked anybody in the club and her recent escapades that Santana brought to life had definitely lost her some of their respect. The actual club and performing was one thing she really enjoyed and, when she had really needed them, the club had her back, but sometimes she wondered if she made the right choice in choosing glee over cheerleading.

"Yeah, well…how was that going to happen if every time you get near me, me skin crawls," Quinn mocks, trying to brush off the other girls words and ignoring that she was still holding her hand. "What were you going to do, serenade me?"

"Would that work?" Rachel questioned excitedly, completely missing the sarcasm and probably already making plans.

For a moment, Quinn allows herself to picture it. Rachel completely into the performance, but hooded eyes only on Quinn. Holding the mike close to her lips as her melodious voice flows through the room. That electricity that surges whenever Rachel takes the stage. Quinn swallows thickly.

"No," she finally rasps, deciding that it is best for everyone if she keeps Rachel in this secluded corner of the basement rather than letting her run loose on stage and embarrass Quinn with a drunken song. Her cheeks are flushed because of the alcohol and how hot it is, though, and she can't seem to drag her eyes from the floor.

When Rachel doesn't respond right away, though, she looks up, worried that Rachel interpreted her no as "not unless you stop everything and do it right now" and had run off to prepare the stage.

She sort of wished that was the case.

While she experiences a brief moment of relief as she realizes the other girl is still around and not preparing the stage for a solo to proclaim how amazing Quinn is, but her jaw clenches tightly as she realizes Rachel is only there physically.

Quinn had only been caught in her embarrassing daydream for a few moments, but Rachel had apparently lost interest and let her mind wander and was currently gazing longingly just over Quinn's left shoulder.

Quinn turned around, somewhat hoping that it was something simple like Santana bawling or maybe Brittany having lost all her clothes again and it had just drawn the other girls attention for a moment. Instead, Quinn was unfortunately met with the sight of sober Finn Hudson, looking uncomfortable.

The dopey boy, upon noticing Quinn's attention, gave up on trying to push the touchy Puck from cuddling with him – apparently it was a Jewish thing – and gave her a small smile and a quirked eyebrow.

He was probably wondering why she was deigning to talk to Rachel or maybe wondering how she was resisting punching the girl in the face.

Whatever, she could talk to whoever she wanted. Just because they were secretly dating, didn't mean he could dictate her actions. If he wanted to keep it under wraps and risk people not voting for her for prom queen than he lost most of his boyfriend rights anyway.

With a huff, ignoring the boy, she turned back around and gripped Rachel's shoulders and easily jerked the smaller girl so her body was no longer facing the rest of the room. The motion thankfully wrenched Rachel's attention back to her.

"Look. At. Me!" Quinn demanded, keeping her voice low through her anger, "You're talking to me! Not Santana! Not…what's his face, that – that Warbler!"

Rachel squints at her and reaches a hand out to cup Quinn's cheek, stopping her speech.

"His name's Blaine. Blaine Warbler," she says gently, a small smile gracing her face. Quinn looks at her incredulously, barely stopping herself from smacking Rachel's hand away.

"Whatever! Not Blaine and not that walking beanstalk you call an ex-boyfriend! Me! Stay. Focused."

Her tone is rough and uncontrolled and Quinn would be worried that a sober Rachel would take notice of this, but trusts drunken Rachel's inability to properly keep up with her emotions, especially since Quinn can hardly do so. But Rachel surprises her. She easily shrugs out her Quinn's grasp, unfortunately moving her hand from Quinn's cheek, and, instead, pulls her into a tight hug. It's different from their earlier cuddling. That one was basic drunken canoodling, meaningless, and this one is more intimate, focused.

Rachel initiated this hug, wrapping her arms around Quinn's waist and burrowing her head in Quinn's neck. The action is filled with intent and Quinn can't help but return the motion. As quickly as it began, Rachel releases her pulling away only slightly so their bodies are still touching. She clumsily reaches up and returns her hand to Quinn's cheek, sliding it further back so she can direct Quinn's gaze downward. She raises her own head and the two are so close, their faces are almost touching and Quinn thinks their probably sharing the same breath.

It's fleeting, but it occurs to Quinn that if Rachel tilted a little more, moved a tiny bit closer, their lips would touch.

She almost pulls away, but Rachel's eyes are burrowing into hers and Rachel begins speaking, so softly Quinn finds herself stopping herself from leaning in to hear her.

"You," Rachel starts, overly expressive face contorted as always as she struggles to get the words out coherently, "always have my attention. I try to ignore it, you, because you don't want it…but it's hard." Rachel's eyes shift away for a moment, head tilting away, before she refocuses. She looks closely at Quinn and the expression on her face…it's familiar. Maybe a little more exaggerated, but it's the same one when Rachel first told her that she didn't hate her, compassionate and honest and – Oh God, Quinn just wants to run. But Rachel's eyes, and hand still pressed firmly against her cheek, hold her to the spot.

"You are so lovely Quinn. Of course you're beautiful, but it's…it's more than that. There was a reason I was so – Gosh – so upset that it was Santana, whose promiscuity is her greatest asset next to her looks when getting guys. I know it was meaningless. Unless your name is Brittany, everything's meaningless with Santana and it hurts that he would say he loves me and, even if we're not together, sleep with her. It might not have been cheating, but it was still choosing. Now he's chosen you, even if you aren't together and, Geez, I don't know if it's better or worse." She pulls away a little and Quinn doesn't know how she feels.

This isn't the speech she thought she was getting. It started out great, but somehow turned to another talk about Finn, and Quinn just wants to push the other girl away because, seriously, Quinn couldn't care less about Finn right now. Rachel must have noticed Quinn's less than pleased look, because the hand pressed against her cheek starts to move a little as Rachel's thumb starts to slide soothingly across her skin.

"You're beauty is astounding, so obviously I can't compare there, but, it's like, you…you're more than just a pretty face. When he went back to you, it felt like an inevitability. Even with the mistakes you made, you're one of the most awesome, prefect people I've met," Rachel finishes and, okay, Quinn has to struggle to swallow. Just for the moment, although there is a strange lilt to her voice, she doesn't sound drunk at all. Sure, she's fumbling with her words a little, but she sounds so sincere and, and honest.

Quinn doesn't really understand what she's hearing, so she focuses on words like beautiful and perfect and better than Santana – it's implied! – and finds herself leaning closer – just to hear better! – until Rachel's lips – still moving although, ironically, Quinn can't focus on her exact words – are brushing softly against hers.

"Uh, hey?"

Quinn jumps away, blushing, and Rachel lets her, apparently unperturbed at the interruption. If anything, the singer looks sulky.

Finn looks at the two of them with obvious confusion and the condescension of sobriety surrounded by drunkenness and Quinn remembers the eyebrow quirk. He was probably watching the entire time like some creepy stalker. Though Quinn does wonder how he managed to get rid of Puck.

"What's going on Quinn?" Finn asks pointedly, ignoring Rachel. Quinn notices the forlorn expression cross Rachel's face and the way her entire body seems to shift, leaning, drifting towards Finn. It's pathetic and Quinn feels a rush of…something. She scowls. It moves her to action, this annoying feeling.

She steps in front of Rachel, blocking them from each other and reaches behind her to intertwine their hands. Yeah, she thinks it's pathetic and how quickly Rachel's focus shifts away from her pisses her off, but – and it's totally weird – she just wants to make the other girl feel better. In a way that brings the attention back on Quinn.

Somewhat blurrily, she looks at Finn and decides, for once, to tell the truth. After all, if she tried to lie, Rachel would probably rat her out anyways.

"Rachel was just…being nice," Quinn assures, an odd tilt to her head and raising her eyebrows, trying to look sincere. She squeezes Rachel's hand behind her back, somewhat assured with the knowledge that Finn couldn't see that.

Rachel squeezes back and pulls at her, moving the intertwined hands so that she's hugging Quinn's waist and rest the other one on Quinn's shoulder. She settles her cheek against Quinn's other shoulder and leans completely against the other girl and so she's effectively draped around her.

Finn shifts his gaze so he's awkwardly looking at Rachel for the first time, cocking his head in askance, as if for confirmation. And Quinn understands. Just because they're dating (secretly), doesn't take back all the lies Quinn has told, to him and her parents and his parents and Sam and – Quinn flinches at herself. As much as he says he loves Quinn, it was Rachel who told him of Quinn's deception. For every lie Quinn spun in her little web of deceit, Rachel told the truth, including the story of her own infidelity.

It still hurts that he doesn't trust her.

In response to Finn's questioning gaze, Rachel offers a hesitant smile and a shrug.

"Quinn's awesome," she shrugs, offering no other response.

Finn glances at the two girls, sober but still confused. Quinn muses that it really is the story of his life. It is obvious that he has no idea what to make of the situation.

"Look, you two are really drunk, and it's great that you're not yelling at everybody anymore Quinn, but Rachel's obviously still needy. Let me just grab her and hand her off to someone and we can talk or something," Finn blusters, jealous and not sure of whom, and not really worried about anybody figuring out his and Quinn's current dynamic considering everyone's drunkenness.

Quinn feels rather than sees Rachel flinch away, hurt, and, just like that, the anger rushes back.

"Hand her off! I was talking to her and you have the nerve to bust over like some knight in shiny freaking armor. You have no right to in who I talk to. You're not my father and you're not my boyfriend," Quinn bellows, enjoying the way he recoils at the reminder of their secret. It is obvious he wants to speak, but it was his idea, after all, to "spare" Rachel's feeling by lying to her. She wouldn't remember any subtle actions that Quinn and Finn are back together, but might just remember him proclaiming it, so he keeps quiet. Quinn knows it's bullshit, just like his excuse over his actions with Santana, and now, besides wanting people to know to edge her out in her quest for prom queen, she's starting to feel bad about the lie itself.

It's probably just the alcohol, though. She'll feel better in the morning.

"Me and Rachel are going to finish are conversation. I don't care what you do," Quinn sneers and glances around the room. "Although, considering Tina and Mercedes look like they're asleep and Brittany and Santana look like they're two seconds away from finding some room for some weird foursome, you should probably start designated driving some of their asses home. You only have your Mom's old car, it's gonna take more than one trip."

The boy frowns at her, glancing at Rachel who is still resting her head against Quinn.

"Are you ready for me to bring you home?" he asks, completely missing the point.

"Are you a moron! Take the horn dogs home so they don't end up doing it in Berry's basement. Grab the people who are sleeping. Take Puck – please God take Puck – and once you get everyone else, all the really drunk people, I'll go. But right now, I'm in a conversation,' she yells, and okay, maybe he doesn't completely deserve, except, yeah, he totally does. Somehow she has managed to escape Rachel and ended up shoving her finger against his chest, so she turns swiftly, only a slight stumble in her step, and grabs the girls hands yanking her away from Finn.

"Start collecting Finn," she snarls loudly as she walks away, "we'll be finishing our conversation upstairs. Away from you."

And so, as Finn starts shaking the sleepers awake, Quinn pulls Rachel up the stairs. And, yeah, the stairs might have been a little difficult, but they manage. Once they get away from the still noisy basement, Rachel pulls away, wandering into the kitchen. Like a lost puppy, Quinn follows.

"Rach?" she asks, not really noticing the nickname. She tends to think of the other girl as Rachel in her thoughts, just because it's simpler. Sometimes she wishes she had a default insult in her mind, then it would be easier, like second nature to insult her, but they did sort of grow up together – not as friends, but they had the same classes and everyone else calls her Rachel, so it's the natural way to think of her. Besides, she has so many insults at her disposal, how would she pick just one to think of her as.

"I'm just…that was really mean," the other girl replies as she starts the coffee pot. Quinn can't contain the disbelieving laugh the escapes her mouth.

"First off, seriously. I am mean and Finn was being a doofus. Nextly, are you making coffee now," Quinn asks, because that's weird. They're drunk and it's late.

"Nextly's not a word Quinn," the other girl states, looking confused as if she might be wrong, "and it's just hot water…for tea. I like tea." Quinn gives a little head shake because, well, still weird. But the other girl is still not touching her or looking at her, focused on the tea.

"And," Rachel continues, "Finn wasn't being…he just was checking up on me. This is my first time and we was making sure I wasn't being too…Rachel. Like earlier." Quinn's brow furrows at that and wonders why Rachel still isn't looking at her. It was just hot water being made; it wasn't interesting. Not that far away she hears a door slam, although she can still hear music from downstairs, and assumes Finn left with his first car-ful of people.

"He was not…he was just being pompous. What did he say earlier," Quinn asks, not because she cared. Because she didn't except that Finn was her secret boyfriend. That was why she asked and not for any other reason.

"Just me making a fool of myself. I thought…it's a party, my party and I just wanted to dance with Finn, cause that's what you do at parties with alcohol. You can act however you want to, right. I just wanted to know that, even if he's giving you mono and kissing all the girls in the school – what we had was real," she answers, obviously fighting through a painful lump in her throat. "But he told me I was being needy and acting uncool. That's why I started Spin the Bottle, to show him I could be cool and party-like." Quinn scowls, unsure of what to say.

She wants to help. Rachel helped earlier and said nice things, so it's only fair, but what can she say. Rachel won't seem to accept that Finn can be a typical teenage douche bag, like all the time, and, as infuriating as that is, she doesn't know what else could possibly help. It's not Rachel, it's Finn and she doesn't know how to get that frilled into Rachel's head.

"It's a party," she starts, trying to do the impossible, "we drink and we, I don't know, be merry. Even if it makes us look like asses. This might be your first, but if the worst you did was hang off your ex-boyfriend and kiss a gay, then you're still way better off than me. At least you didn't end up pregnant."

Rachel looks at her concerned, and she doesn't get why.

"You're mentioning that a lot," Rachel questions and Quinn doesn't know if the other girl is trying to change the subject or really doesn't want Quinn to try and make her feel better.

"What?" she says, rolling her eyes a little.

"Your pregnancy," Rachel states, head tilted as she watches Quinn look away, "You never bring it up or talk about it and just act like it never happened and tonight you have more than once." Quinn swallows nervously. She might have brought it up, but she doesn't want to actually talk about it.

"It's just on my mind a lot, but I try to ignore it and, it's just… harder right now," she says quietly, hoping to change the subject. Rachel nods slowly, staring at her. The two sit like that for a moment. Neither knowing what to say next. Rachel looks like she is bursting to say something, but for some reason stays quiet.

Instead, she moves and pours hot water for them and starts scouring the cabinets for tea bags.

She ignores the small boxes she knocks over and just grabs an armful of…something and drops them on the kitchen table.

"We have Green, White, Black, and Oolong teas and various blends and flavors for each. Do you have a preference?" Rachel asks, allowing Quinn to search through the pile. Quinn looks at her searchingly, apparently they really were finished with the conversation - and grabs a bag at random.

"Excellent choice," Rachel beams at her, and, though it might be Quinn's imagination, but she's starting to appear a lot more sober. Knowing Rachel, though, she's probably one of those girls who, while still a light weight, has freakishly fast metabolism that gets rid of alcohol quickly once she stops drinking and probably won't even have a hangover. Quinn, as she begins making her tea, bemusedly notices that she lost track of her alcohol again, not that she needs it. By her estimation, she'll probably be at least buzzed for a good while yet.

Both girls jump as they hear the front door slam open and someone rattle the house as they stomp down the basement.

"Finn must have managed to drop off the first group of people," Rachel notes, going back to her tea.

"Yeah," Quinn says because, really, what else is there to say? The two finish off their tea in silence. The only noise is Finn rattling the house as he collects his next group. Quinn guesses he sees the lights in the kitchen because he stops on the way out.

"Hey," he says, raising his eyebrows at their tea. Quinn scowls, suddenly defensive even as Rachel returns the greeting.

"I've got the last of them in my car, okay. I'm just gonna drop them off real fast and then we can get you out of here," he finishes, a small smirk playing at his lips. Maybe it's the alcohol still buzzing in her system or maybe it's the broken look on Rachel's face and the way the bouncy girl just completely shut down earlier, but at the moment, Quinn real just wants to wipe the smug look off Finn's dopey face. Scary Quinn Scowl firmly in place, Quinn does just that.

"Don't bother," she sneers, "me and Rach are having such a great time, we've decided to make this a sleep over."

"What?" Finn laughs, disbelieving, but hopefully not noticing the shocked look on Rachel's face. "Seriously? You guys can't stand each other."

"We seem to be standing each other fine right now," Quinn glowers, "Or at least we do until you show up." And it was true, they were having a perfectly marvelous time at the party until Finn walked over and ruined everything and now they can't talk. And Quinn, for some reason, is not ready to go yet or let go of their conversation, but she really needs Finn to just leave so it can actually happen.

"I don't know what you're thinking Quinn, but -" and Quinn cuts him off.

"I'm not thinking anything, I just want to finish my conversation in peace without any dimwitted interruptions and you're making that very difficult," Quinn practically yells, pushing off her chair with a slight stumble.

Rachel immediately jumps up from her chair and rushes over, and Quinn does note that there is still a stumble in her step as well.

"Wait,oh, don't," Rachel stutters, not really making sense as she gently grabs at Quinn's arm, supporting her. Quinn finds it incredibly hilarious that Rachel Berry has, not for the first time, been regulated to audience and peacekeeper in one of their fights.

"See," Finn asserts, voice trampling over Rachel's, "she doesn't want you to spend the night!"

Quinn quickly shoots a pleading gaze at Rachel, wondering if this really is what she's trying to say. Rachel's holding her up, not that she needs it, doesn't that mean she's on Quinn's side. And it's important, ridiculous as it is, that she's on Quinn's side. Even though Rachel's always been Team Finn, tonight Quinn needs this.

Rachel, meanwhile, looks shocked at the assumption. Point for Quinn.

"No, that wasn't…" Rachel cries, looking imploringly at Quinn, "Of course Quinn can stay. I just, you guys don't need to fight. It's a party. It's fun."

"Party's over, Rach. Hope you guys have fun.," Finn sneers sarcastically, and Quinn can't help but think that Finn looks like a constipated baby when he sneers. For a second she worries what this means, Finn being so angry with right at the beginning of their renewed relationship, but he shrugs it away. It's Finn, she really doesn't care. He'll get over whatever his problem is.

Rachel lets go of her and gives Quinn a nervous look and Quinn realizes, for the first time, that this means they're all alone in the house.

"I'll be right back," Rachel says, not quite looking at her, "I'm gonna lock the door and turn of the lights and music." Without waiting for a reply, the girl stumbles off, nearly tripping on a chair on the way out.

With a sigh, Quinn puts the tea cups in the sink, wondering what she did. Rachel's not gone for long and soon returns with a spring in her step. It makes Quinn wonder if she took a shot or gave herself a pep talk while she was turning the music off.

The shorter girl leads them to her room and Quinn looks around in shock.

"Wow," she says quietly, "it's certainly…bright." Rachel flashes her a bright smile, apparently seeing her remark as a compliment. And the room really isn't that bad. It's a soft yellow, not pink like Quinn had always assumed, and definitely music oriented. Between the keyboard rug and the bright pink guitar in the corner, there is a bookcase full of trophies and, from a quick glance, playbills and music sheets. There is a huge mirror with a ton of products sitting on the shelf in front of it and Quinn can't help but chuckle at the bedazzled hair brush, curling iron, and straightener.

"Would you like to borrow some clothes," Rachel asks, and Quinn jumps, somehow forgetting the other girl was there, so caught up in examining her room.

"Uhh, sure," Quinn says, not wanting to sleep in her clothes, but hesitant about what Rachel will come up with.

"Great," she enthuses, "let me just find something loose." Wait, what?

"What does that mean," Quinn shouts, upset. Rachel just looks confused. Maybe she did sneak a shot.

"What does what mean," Rachel asks, already stopping her search through the drawers so she could focus all her attention on Quinn. A part of Quinn, the part that's not seething with rage, likes that.

"You insinuating that I'm too fat for your clothes," Quinn shrieks, wondering how quickly ever thing went wrong. Rachel's eyes widen and she waves her hands back and forth frantically.

"No, no, I just…I'm small and you're tall. I don't mean skinny and big, I know I'm not…you're much better…I just mean I'm small. Don't tell anyone I admitted it," Rachel says quickly, in a rush, and Quinn accepts it. She doesn't really want to be angry anyway.

She accepts some loose clothing from the other girl and quickly changes, not really worried about modesty as they change at the same time. The clothes are, Quinn notes, short on her.

Quinn, smile in place sense she basically got her way, jumps up and lounges on the incredibly comfortable bed. She's actually really tired, but she looks at Rachel and motions her forward.

"So," she asks, as Rachel climbs into the bed with her, giggling a little when she needs to help pull the shorter girl in, "what now?"

"I guess we can talk," Rachel says, cuddling against Quinn. Quinn easily accepts it now, though a part of her knows this would happen sober, and snuggle right back, pulling the covers over the two of them.

"Yeah?" Quinn asks, hopefully, liking the idea of another quiet conversation, hopefully one without discussion of Finn. And was immediately disappointed.

"I just, thank you for sticking up for me with Finn earlier. I don't know if it was about me or if you're just mad at Finn…but it means a lot," Rachel sniffles. Even though it seems like an emotional moment, Quinn rolls her eyes, knowing Rachel can't see. Everything goes back to Finn with Rachel, it was so frustrating. Rachel's face ends up against Quinn's next and she has to fight to her what the other girl is saying.

"You're just so," she mumbles, barely heard as her voice vibrates and tingles against Quinn's skin, "amazing. I know you've taken a lot of hits lately, especially last year, but I am just so in awe with you. I take a lot and it tears at me and I try and try and try to ignore it and hide it and fake a smile and hope the world smile with me, but they don't. They just…they don't. And you can just somehow be whoever you want and still manage to make everyone like you. I just am so…jealous. I want to be like you so much sometimes…" Her voice fades out and Quinn wants to cry.

It's everything she wants to hear, but..it's all wrong. No matter what Rachel thinks, she doesn't seem to have any real friends and her little mistake cost her everything. She knows she's never getting out of this town, not like Rachel. She going to graduate top of her class and still end up marrying the captain the football team and end up wasting her days in Lima remembering winning the football championship or getting prom queen, and that's pretty much the best she can hope for. Rachel can and will get out of here, if Finn doesn't drag her down, and she just…she has to make Rachel see.

She pulls the other girl tighter, and Rachel snuggles even more, and leans close to her ear. She can't bring herself to proclaim it to the world, but right now, alone in the room, it's okay.

"I think…I think you're pretty incredible too. You're gonna make one day, and we'll be left in the dust, just like we deserve," she says quietly, softly, and leaves no room for debate. The other girl tries to answer her, but Quinn gently shushes her and the two lay in the quiet, just listening to the other breathe.

"What?" Rachel murmurs, bewildered by the strange sounds that are waking her up. Her covers feel weird, yanked and turned around, wrapped around her uncomfortable. She jolts a little more awake as she notices someone else in her room. She just lays there, quietly, and watches Quinn Fabray rummage awkwardly around her room, looking for something while talking on the phone.

"Just get here," she hisses quietly, sparring a quick glance at the bed and Rachel quickly plays sleeping, still not sure what is going on. Quinn slams the cell phone shut and finally finds the cloths that she had apparently been looking for. Rachel closes her eyes as Quinn dresses, trying to figure out what happened the previous night.

She remembers Finn yelling at her, and making out with Blaine, singing with Blaine…and then spending the rest of the night with Quinn. She remembers it haltingly and blurrily, sure on many of the actual actions, but doubting her thoughts on the situations. Still, she figures she should probably say something before the other girl leaves.

She opens her eyes right as the girl finishes changing.

"Quinn," she speaks, softly, but it is more than enough to grab the other girls attention. She has to be careful, not really sure all what Quinn remembers. "Are you leaving?"

"Obviously," she drawls, indicating her apparel with her hands, "Finn is coming to grab me, like he should have done last night."

"You sort of sent him off, Quinn," Rachel replies, still speaking gently but with a little laugh in her tone. The other girl scowls.

"Yeah, well, I was really drunk last night. He was the designated, he was supposed to get me home no matter what stupid, drunken decisions I wanted to make," the other girl growls and looks at Rachel like she was one of those stupid decisions.

"I- yeah, I guess. Are you sure you want to go so soon, though? I could make you some breakfast, just something small. We could talk…" Rachel implores, hopeful despite herself.

"I think we talked enough last night," Quinn sneers, arms across her chest defensively, "Look, Berry, I was obviously wasted last night. Don't take anything I said as anything other than drunken ramblings. We're not friends and I hope that you're courteous enough to not mention last night to anyone. Ever." She looks at Rachel's defeated face, and sighs, looking away. For a moment she looks like she wants to say something else, even opens her mouth, but instead she sets her shoulders and makes her way to the door. "I'll wait for Finn outside."

"I still think your amazing," Rachel blurts, unable to help herself as Quinn leaves the room. The other girl pauses, tense and stiff, but then continues on her way, slamming the door behind her.

Rachel doesn't cry. There is no reason to cry. What does it say about her that the only time people can stand to be with her is when they're both drunk and the next morning they bolt out the door. They didn't even do anything, just talked really. Rachel should have expected this. There is no reason to cry.

She remembers the other fun she had. She remembers Blaine. And how good it felt to kiss him and sing with him, even though he was gay. She likes kissing and she likes singing. She just needs a willing partner. She just needs a friend. Anyone. Finn was obviously out of the picture, as was Quinn, and Kurt was probably mad at her…maybe. She just really needed someone right now.

She crawled out of bed and looked at the clock. How did she sleep so long? Technically, it was late enough to drink again. Not a lot, just enough to make people like her, like hanging out with her, want to hang out with her. Maybe just some wine. Wine was classy. Then she'd call Blaine, see if he wanted to hang out. Cleaning the basement could wait a day, she really needed to just relax and not think about anything that happened after her song. She needed to forget. She needed a distraction.