Authors Note: This chapter is really short...I didn't know what else to put in it. So now, since you guys rule the world, tell me what you want to happen next! (Smut and kisses are not an option. Mwahahahahaha!) Thanks for being patient guys!

Rachel Berry and the Victimizing yet Erotic Glares of Quentin Fabray
Alice Inamorata

"I was born a girl."

"What?" Rachel Berry replied, raising her eyebrow. "Are you serious right now?"

Quentin slowly nodded, his eyes looking at the fuming Rachel in front of him. Next to him, Hiram folded his napkin and placed it beside his empty plate and at the other side of the table, Judy and Frannie looked at one another worried.

"Quentin Fabray." Rachel stood up, placing her hands on her hips and pointing to the entrance door. "Outside, now."

Quentin stood up, his facial expression mangled between worried and pure fear. He followed the diva to the front door that she waited to be opened for, before storming outside.

"Well…" Hiram coughed, taking a sip of his water, "That went well."

Judy shrugged and sighed, resting her elbow on the table. "I don't think we should have had him tell her at the dinner table."

"Duh." Frannie replied, pushing around her sautéed vegetables with her fork. "It would have been better if he had told her privately."

"Well, they're speaking now." Hiram chimed in. "I just hope Rachel doesn't rip his head off."

"Do you think she will..?" Judy asked, her face tensed. Hiram shook his head.

"No. If anything, she'll just be surprised. He does look good."

Judy nodded, "It was four years in the making…"

Quentin was debating whether to just stay on the porch, run for the hills, or run back inside only to lock his door behind him. He definitely didn't gauge Rachel's reaction as strong as that – he was hoping for a shrug and a smile as well as a 'Well, that's cool. Tell me more.' Not a, 'What. The. Hell.'

Well, both of those reactions weren't even close to how Rachel was feeling. It wasn't anger or regret, it was more of an empty feeling. She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for Quentin to turn around from the door.

"I'm not going to yell at you." She said, sitting down on the white bench.

"…Y-You're not?" Quentin asked, slowly turning his body so he could see her. Rachel's expression had changed from angry and wanting to mutilate him to gentle and tender compassion. She patted to space beside her, motioning him to sit. As he did, he managed to sit farther to the end of the bench than closer to Rachel.

"I'm just more upset that you couldn't tell me…" she whispered, playing with her hands in her lap. Her head had fallen, watching herself playing with her fingers and eventually pulling the hem of her sleeves down to cover her icy hands. "I've done nothing but tried to be friends with you, Quentin. You really thought you couldn't tell me?"

"It's more complicated than that, Rachel."

"Then tell me," she countered, looking up from her hands. Her brown eyes stared at him. "Tell me why you couldn't tell me."

Quentin stood up, crossing his arms over his chest as he felt the winter air pierce through his thin button down shirt. He paced back and fourth on the porch, occasionally glancing outside at the night sky that cried small snowflakes. He sighed, "It's…it's a long story."

"I have time."

"Rachel, you really.." Quentin sighed, turning to her, "You don't need to sit here and listen to my life story."

"I want to." She smiled. "I want to understand you better. I know you're not the cold, hardened jackass that you want others to see. You're…nice…"

"Yeah, I've been really nice to you, haven't I?" Quentin sneered, leaning onto the railing.

"I always thought there was a reason. Now I know it."

"You don't even know. Stop trying to make it seem like you do."

"Quentin," he heard her stand up from the bench and felt her warm body beside him as she relaxed her back against the railing. "Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Being a jerk. Just tell me everything…"

Quentin looked down.

"You can trust me, Quentin."

But can you trust me, he thought, that's the problem.

"…When I was six, I went to my mum and said I was in the wrong body. At least, that's what she told me. I don't remember doing that…" he took a deep breath, looking out to the full moon. "She just let me express myself the way I wanted to. When we went shopping, she let me buy stuff from the boys side instead of the girls side. Of course, I couldn't wear the clothes in public."

"Why not?"

"Because of the ridicule. My mum made me go to school in dresses with my hair all done nice. I remember one time, it was my first day of school, and I cried all the way to school because mum made me wear a pink dress and tights."

Rachel nodded, moving closer to him, "Keep going."

"I just hated being a girl. I hated the pink dresses and the tights and the makeup…I hated all of it. I wanted to play football and baseball…Mum understood that. She understood I liked to wear boys clothes instead of girls clothes…my Dad," he sighed, "My Dad is another story."

"I thought you didn't have a Dad. I never asked…" Rachel commented, crossing her arms over her chest as she shivered. "He didn't agree?"

Quentin scoffed, "'Didn't agree' is a nice way of putting it. He threatened to divorce my mother if she let me do what I wanted. He wanted his little girls to dress like girls and act like girls. Frannie was his perfect little girl…I was the reject…

"So he forced me to be a girl. I kept everything inside until I was about thirteen years old…that was my breaking point. I tore up all my dresses, threw out my high heels, cut up the tights, broke the jewelry. He came into my room and said, 'I didn't raise a butch. Be a fucking girl.' And I said, 'No.' Ultimately my Mum came in and broke it up. Since then, my father has been out of my life. He doesn't even know I'm trans now."

"That's…stupid." Rachel said, "He should accept you for who you are! You're his son!" She pushed up off of the railing and looked at Quentin, "Are you telling me that he hasn't spoken to you in almost five years?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you." Quentin replied, turning to balance his hip against the railing. "Thankfully I have great friends…Santana and Brian have been there for me through all of it."

Rachel made a face, scrunching her lips off to the side. It made Quentin chuckle lightly.

"I know they don't seem great to you, but they've been there for me and that's all I've ever needed."

Rachel walked up to Quentin, raising a hand and rubbing it gently against his face. She felt the stubble beneath his skin, his soft skin that arose when the stubble was gone. Quentin allowed her to touch – he allowed her hand to trace down his chest to feel how flat it was.

"Did you have breasts?"

Quentin nodded.

"You had them chopped off?"

Quentin laughed out loud, shaking his head. "It's called a mastectomy. It's a breast reduction."

Rachel nodded, "I could have used some of your breasts. You should have given them to me, Quentin!" She cried, smiling happily. Quentin smiled too, taking her hand and holding it between his.

"I'm sorry I've been so cruel to you. It's just…Santana is holding this over my head, saying that if I don't treat you like shit, she'll out me to the whole school."

"What?" Rachel pulled away. "Are you kidding me? Why is she doing this? I swear, if she does anything, I will tell Professor Schuster that she was the one who drew all of those pornographic pictures of me on the walls of the girls bathroom and it most CERTAINLY wasn't Moaning Myr -."

"Rachel."

"Yes? My other father is a lawyer you know. I don't like him very much but I can have him do SOMETHING."

He laughed, "I don't need an attorney, Rachel, but thanks anyways. I don't know why she's holding it against me, but she is. I just…wanted to tell you so you didn't find out from her."

Rachel nodded, smiling up at Quentin. "So you told me so she couldn't?" She smirked playfully, "Well, Quentin, you keep stepping on your own feet."

A smile formed on Quentin's face before he extended his hand to Rachel, she took it, allowing herself to be led back in the house. With his other hand on the doorknob, Quentin turned back and looked at the young woman behind him. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. After what happened between us…it's the least I could have done, right?"

Rachel nodded, "Right…but from now on, just know you can tell me anything, okay?"

Quentin nodded, "Okay. Now can we go back in and eat? I didn't finish my vegetables."