Chapter Text
Rachel Berry has been dancing consistently since she was three. Ballet, mostly. Dance may not be her forte, sure, and it will forever be but a hard necessity for her inevitably illustrious career on Broadway, but she’s always considered herself good at it.
So when the initial novelty of Quinn and Santana voluntarily talking to her only to question Will’s choreography and raise the possibility of it costing them Sectionals wears off, she knows they’re right. And she knows that as unofficial team captain, getting her team into shape is in her hands.
And so she hires Dakota Stanley.
What she does not anticipate is his relentless brutality. He convinces half the club to quit by the end of the first session, and nothing even Rachel does seems to be enough for him. She twirls and pirouettes and exhausts herself with three straight hours of intensive dancing, but he still grills everything about her from her body to her moves, finally dismissing her as a “hopeless case”.
Rachel is a seasoned performer. She can take constructive criticism. Still, by the end of the training session, she’s near tears.
In fact, only Quinn, Santana and Brittany make it through the session relatively unscathed. Santana and Brittany possess an almost telepathic intuition for each other’s moves and highlight their strengths while camouflaging each other’s shortcomings. They carry out the entire routine almost without a hitch. And Quinn…well. She’s in an entirely different league altogether.
It’s a little distracting, to be honest. Her body, her posture, her grace. Even Dakota Stanley can’t find anything to criticize about her. It’s a little hard for Rachel to tear her eyes away from her when she begins to dance, even when she’s desperately trying to concentrate on her own form.
Quinn passes her swiftly as soon as they’re dismissed, her ponytail swishing behind her. She abruptly turns around and Rachel’s breath catches, just a little. She doesn’t think she can ever get used to the head cheerleader addressing her , specifically, especially when it’s not to taunt her or to assert her status as Finn’s girlfriend.
She gives Rachel a quick nod. “You were pretty good. For someone who isn’t used to these sorts of routines, anyway.”
Rachel’s stomach knots, and her heart flutters with something almost akin to pride despite the backhandedness of the compliment. It still means a lot, especially coming from Quinn Fabray.
Quinn’s about to turn back when Rachel, her desperation winning out against her pride and her better judgement, blurts out, “Could you coach me?”
Quinn arcs an eyebrow. “Coach you,” she repeats.
“I - I want to be as good as you.” Neither of them break eye contact, though Quinn does look vaguely uncomfortable. Or is that Rachel’s imagination?
“I don’t care what it takes,” she rushes. “I can’t motivate my team until I do.”
Quinn laughs, a little meanly.
“You do realize it took me years of practice and rigorous effort to get this good, don’t you?” She shakes her head. “What, you expect me to just, I don’t know, transform you into a trained dancer overnight?”
Rachel sticks her chin out defiantly. “I’ve been training for years, too.”
Quinn looks like she’s struggling not to laugh once again in Rachel’s face. Rachel stares at her, a challenge in her eyes.
“Fine,” Quinn concedes finally, looking away. “My place, right after school. I’ll give you a ride, but finding one back is your headache.” She sighs tiredly. “Oh, and you’re leaving before six. My parents are back then, and I don’t want them catching me break the “no outsiders” rule for you , of all people.”
Rachel exhales, waving tentatively behind Quinn as the other girl walks away.
—
Quinn has cheerleading practice until four, so Rachel waits for her on the bleachers. She ignores the other cheerleaders’ smirks and quietly watches Quinn in her natural habitat, marveling at the ease with which she rises to the top of the pyramid before gracefully landing down for Santana and Brittany to catch her. Her skirt flies up a little as she falls to reveal her slender, perfectly toned thighs. Rachel inhales sharply, unable to tear her eyes away.
She wants to emulate that effortless grace. That practiced agility.
“Sloppy freakshow babies!” Sue yells, as the girls crumple. “I want a better show tomorrow.”
Something spikes inside Rachel. She knows Sue is a regular terror and impossible to please, of course, but Rachel would kill to have the stamina to carry out that routine so flawlessly.
Quinn appears beside her, panting slightly. “Enjoyed the show?”
“I - you were breathtaking.” Literally , Rachel thinks. You took my breath away. “It was an honour watching you.”
The left side of Quinn’s mouth twitches. “That was a rhetorical question,” she says coolly, turning to leave and tilting her head to indicate that Rachel should follow. Rachel jogs to keep up.
“So, she’s always like that? Sue?”
Quinn scoffs. “Coach Sylvester isn’t easy to please. But that’s why she has six consecutive national championship trophies.”
Rachel nods. “You’re really good,” she breathes. “It can’t be easy. I mean, you saw the glee kids after one practice with Dakota Stanley. Everyone isn’t built for that kind of rigour.”
“That’s what it takes to win,” Quinn bites. “If you aren’t ready for that kind of rigour, I think you should stop wasting both of our time.”
“No!” Rachel insists, her voice rising a little. “I’m ready to do whatever you need.”
“Good to know.” A half-smirk crosses Quinn’s face, and she juts her head to a sleek bicycle parked under the bleachers. “That’s our ride.”
Rachel gapes. “You bike to school every day?”
Quinn shrugs. “You in or not?”
“Er - how am I supposed to -”
Quinn unlocks her bicycle and mounts it, patting the low metal seat behind her. “Hold on tight.”
Rachel grips Quinn so hard throughout the ride that her palms are sweating uncontrollably by the end, so much so that they’ve even stained Quinn’s uniform. She prays that the cheerleader won’t notice.
She’s careful not to wrap her arms around Quinn’s waist, instead clutching onto her hips as tightly as she can. Quinn doesn’t comment, but Rachel thinks she sees her wince. Miraculously, though, she doesn’t say anything.
The reason soon becomes apparent, though. It feels like Quinn’s going out of her way to take the bumpiest route, and with as swiftly as she rides, Rachel’s butt is aching before she even makes her first turn. Her ponytail flicks Rachel in the face as she swerves, madly.
Twenty agonising minutes later, they’ve reached.
"Get off," Quinn orders.
Rachel follows her into her room and awkwardly perches by the door. Quinn unties her hair, letting it fall down her shoulders, and then pulls it up higher to retie it. She gives Rachel a once over.
"Lose the sweater."
Rachel obliges, and Quinn yanks it and drops it on the floor before she can tie it back around her waist. She circles her, eyes piercing her skin. Goosebumps pass over Rachel's arms.
"The top, too," she adds after a moment.
Rachel blinks. "What?"
"You heard me." Quinn's face remains expressionless. "If we're going to do this, I need to have a good look at your body."
Rachel stares at her, at a loss for words. She doesn't think she's ready for Quinn Fabray to see her body. She eyes Quinn's petite frame that arcs in all the right places and looks down to her feet, unsure.
Quinn does her signature one-brow raise at her from across the room. Rachel bites her tongue and swallows.
She unbuttons her shirt and shrugs it off, letting it hit the floor.
Quinn looks her up and down, and Rachel's stomach churns.
"Hm." Quinn trails a light finger across Rachel's shoulder, making her shiver. She nods, tracing it across her neck, her upper back, and bringing it back up to slip two fingers underneath the strap of her bra.
Rachel stills, biting her tongue to stop her throat from betraying her. She can feel Quinn's breath hot on her neck.
Quinn pulls at the strap and releases it back so it hits Rachel's shoulder with a sharp spike of pain.
She bites her lip harder.
Quinn is now in front of her, less than a few centimetres between their noses. She meets her gaze, directly.
"Are you fine with this?" Her face is still unreadable.
Rachel nods, not daring to breathe.
Quinn exhales lightly. Then, abruptly, she pulls Rachel's skirt down and lets it fall to the floor, leaving her stomach and legs fully exposed, naked but for her pink, lacy underwear.
Rachel shuts her eyes.
Quinn pushes her to the wall to get a Sharpie from her desk.
"Just a couple of suggestions," she murmurs, clicking the pen open.
She leans down, studying Rachel's body, occasionally tutting and remarking about where she needs to work on it. She draws sharp, tight loops around the offending parts, circling her hips and the flab on her stomach, her waist and her nose and her thighs. The pen sinks into her skin as she adds comments Rachel can't bear to look down and read. She squeezes her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry.
"You're a ballet dancer, aren't you?" Quinn tuts. "This will not do."
Rachel nods, struggling to keep the tears from falling from her eyes. Quinn notices, of course, and gently caresses her cheek. "I'm not doing this to be mean," she whispers, stroking her cheek. "It's a harsh necessity every performer needs to go through."
Rachel fiddles with the strap of her bra self-consciously. Quinn's eye glints.
"Oh, drop that too."
Rachel's eyes widen. She has no idea what Quinn is playing at. But she isn't backing down. She unhooks her bra, not breaking eye contact. Quinn swiftly pulls the straps off and surveys Rachel's chest with great interest.
"Exquisite," she observes, and Rachel's heart flutters. "So that's what Finn was so obsessed with, huh?"
Rachel's heart sinks.
"Finn and I…didn't get that far."
Quinn's eyebrows shoot up. "How far did you let him get, exactly?"
She flinches at the rephrasing of the question. "I -"
"How was he?" She goads, and that's when Rachel recognizes the look in Quinn's eyes. It isn't jealousy. It isn't even anger.
It's a resigned, almost bitter fear.
"What are you scared of?" Rachel asks gently, ignoring the question. "Finn's never going to pick me over you." She gestures down to her body, to all the marks Quinn left on her with permanent marker not five minutes ago. "You know that. And I would never do that to you."
Quinn shakes her head and looks away. "God, Rachel, you just don't get it, do you?"
Rachel opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.
"You're beautiful," Quinn whispers. "All of you. I'm -" She gulps, looking away. "Rachel, I'm so, so sorry."
Rachel feels a bizarre urge to comfort the other girl.
Uncertainly, she steps towards her.
"I don't want him," Quinn continues, pointedly looking away from Rachel. "I never have, have I?"
Rachel isn't sure what's going on, but something hot knots inside her stomach.
"What do you want?" Rachel asks quietly.
Quinn refuses to meet her eyes. "Please leave," she says, softly.
"Quinn, I -"
"Rachel, please go."
Rachel reaches for her bra and straps it back on, more confused that ever. She gets dressed and pauses at the door before she leaves.
"Bye, Quinn."
__
Rachel fires Dakota Stanley the next day, and Quinn gives her a wide berth after that at school.
She doesn't confront her about glee or Finn or anything anymore. She pointedly avoids making eye contact with her in the hallways.
She stops noticing her altogether.
In a sense, it's a huge relief. But it also leaves Rachel feeling strangely empty.
When Quinn stops attending glee rehearsals, Rachel knows she has to do something.
"Why aren't you at glee practice?"
She sneaks up to the cheerleader's locker when she's clearly engrossed in stacking her books, knowing Quinn won't be able to avoid her if she confronts her directly.
Quinn, however, barely looks up.
"I'm not Superwoman," she retorts coolly. "I have an actual life outside of glee. Cheerleading. I'm on the honour roll. I have friends."
Rachel ignores the jab. "Quinn, whatever it is, if something's wrong, we're here for you."
Quinn's jaw visibly tenses, and Rachel thinks she's about to make another snarky retort but she actually looks up and meets Rachel in the eye.
"Okay," she says, so softly Rachel could have imagined it.
__
Whatever inkling of the awful, hopeful curiosity had dwelt in Rachel since that evening at Quinn's house that she couldn't quite place - she knows she needs to repress it until it disappears when she learns that Quinn Fabray is pregnant.
Quinn Fabray is pregnant.
With Finn's child.
She knows, when she hears the news, that she will do whatever she can to be there for the other girl. Something about the last few weeks has left her feeling like there's another, soft, delicate, vulnerable side to the cheerleader that somehow only Rachel knows about.
She doesn't owe her anything. She knows that. Quinn's done nothing but terrorize her since the first day of school.
Still, she feels like she needs to protect her.
She doesn't understand it, so to the rest of the club, she makes it look as though her motives are still driven by her hopeless crush on Finn.
And maybe they are. Maybe that's why Rachel compromises herself by handing over her underwear to Jacob Ben Israel to stop him from running the story about Quinn.
It doesn't matter, because Sue finds out anyway. And then Quinn is off the Cheerios, leaving her even more dejected than before.
Rachel tries not to think about it.
__
"It was you, wasn't it?"
Quinn looks up from her locker and fixes Rachel with a cool gaze. "Excuse me?"
"You convinced Sue to give us the yearbook photo."
Quinn sighs, slamming her locker door shut. "Good guess, Sherlock."
"But…why?" She's genuinely bemused. "I may be thick, but I know no one wanted to be in that photo except me. Why would you do that for me?"
"I didn't do it for you," Quinn retorts. "I mean, a little, maybe. I know how much you wanted that photo." She says it carefully, all while looking down, and Rachel fights to hide her surprised grin. "But mostly, I wanted something to remember the team that actually cares about me by. The club that was there for me through…all of this." She gestures down to her belly, and then smiles ruefully. "I guess that's glee for me now."
Rachel smiles at her shyly. "I'm glad you've realized that now," she says finally. "We're your family, Quinn. I hope you know that we'll always be there for you."
Quinn opens her mouth to reply, but a choked sob comes out instead. Startled, Rachel wraps her arms around her, gently stroking at her long, sleek hair.
"Hey. It'll be okay."
"Rachel, I'm so sorry."
Rachel knits her eyebrows together. "I told you. That's all ancient history. It's okay, Quinn. I promise."
Quinn offers Rachel a watery smile, and melts into the hug. "Thank you."