Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Glee writers and creators.

A/N: It came to me, I went for it, don't kill me. Updates soon. (Also, I has a Tumblr now, and it's linked on my profile page.)

Notice: This is a CRACK FIC. As in, do NOT take it seriously. Any of it. At all. Please?


It was a reunion. It was…what you do, after all. And, if nothing else could be said for them, Fabrays followed the social code to the letter. So when Quinn Fabray saw Rachel Berry standing at the punch table, sipping at her cup and laughing merrily with a few old 'friends' from high school, she strode over, awaited her attention, and offered a smile and a handshake.

Completely ignoring the tingles that shot up her arm when their hands touched and Rachel's smile landed on her, of course. As she had done quite successfully for the duration of high school. Because it didn't mean anything.

Quinn stretched her smile. "It's good to see you, Rachel. Congratulations on your success on Broadway. We all knew you'd make it."

Rachel's eyes were sparkling in an instant. "Thank you! That's so nice of you, um…." She cleared her throat, smile twisting into an uncomfortable frown.

A blonde eyebrow shot up. "Yes?"

"I…I'm sorry, it's just…I can't seem to recall your name," the brunette said sheepishly, and then hid behind her punch cup.

Quinn blinked. And stared. And blinked again.

"Seriously, Berry?"

"I'm sorry!" she yelped desperately, sounding truly apologetic, too.

Quinn had flashbacks to wanting to punch her in high school. It always started like this: Rachel slighting her somehow. Which didn't mean anything.

Rachel was babbling again. "It's just…I keep running through faces in my head and trying to place y—"

"For Christ's sake," she mumbled, then growled, "Quinn?"

The brunette stared. "That-that's a pretty name," she offered, and smiled.

"Quinn Fabray."


"President of the celibacy club, head cheerleader, got pregnant with Puck's baby, I was in glee club with you for three years, you stole my boyfriend, Finn?"

Rachel's jaw flapped.

"Really? None of these things are ringing a bell?" Quinn gaped at her.

"I'm really sorry," Rachel said sincerely, a little whine to her voice and a pout to her lips. "I wish I could remember you. You were so lovely and pleasant when you came up." Her lips twisted. "Of course, now you just seem kind of crazy, but that's most likely because I don't remember these instances you're speaking of," she placated, smiling sweetly.

It was reminiscent of the common pseudo-compliment 'you're actually a good singer, Quinn; occasionally sharp sometimes, but that's just because you lack my years of training.' Quinn still didn't know why it managed to make her feel better then. Now she was seeing red.

"For God's sake, I was mean to you! I called you names, I threw slushies at you!"

"That could be said of a lot of people," she countered, and Quinn's mouth snapped shut. Rachel eyed her for a moment. "You said you were in glee club…. Oh! Were you the totally gay, ditzy blonde cheerleader?"

Eyebrow up. "Um…no, I think you're talking about Brittany."

Rachel grinned, eyes sparkling. "Oh, yeah! She was so sweet!"

Quinn couldn't believe it. "Really? You remember Brittany and not me? How is this happening?"

"Wait." The brunette sobered, tilting her head and glancing quite obviously downward. "Were you the one that got a boob job?"

Quinn ignored the way things were heating up and hardening and getting wetter under Rachel's intent gaze, because it didn't mean anything.

"Do I look like I got a boob job?" she snarked.

She was already looking anyway…so it wasn't like Quinn was asking her to look or anything.

"Well, they're so natural these days, it's hard to tell," Rachel answered matter-of-factly, finally meeting her eyes as she took another sip of punch.

Quinn sighed. "That was Santana."

She brightened again. "Satan? I remember her!"

"We don't even look anything alike," she pointed out irritably, folding her arms. "I don't even know how you got that."

"Well, I just assumed you wouldn't hesitate to have other work done after getting a boob job," Rachel reasoned.

Quinn had to admit she had a point.

"Wasn't she the one who punched some blonde chick in the hallway that one time?" the brunette asked, tapping her chin.

Quinn gaped. "ME! She punched me!"

"Oh, my God, really?" Rachel snorted. "No offense or anything, but that was hysterical. I watched the YouTube video at least fifty times. I think it's still in my favorites."

She whipped out her BlackBerry (of course she would…) and Quinn smacked her hand to her forehead. She couldn't believe this.

"I can't believe this."

"Well, keep giving me clues, this is fun!" Rachel said eagerly, and Quinn frowned skeptically.


"Yes, you're the most interesting person I've talked to all night. Everyone else wants my autograph and blathers on with apologies about how badly they treated me while 'subtly' hinting that front row tickets would really help them out." The brunette smiled. "So please keep talking to me!"

She practically bounced, and Quinn (completely against her will) gave in.

"Um…okay, I gave my daughter, Beth, to your mom, Shelby."

Rachel frowned apologetically. "I haven't talked to her since sophomore year."

"I dated Sam Evans for a while and cheated on him with Finn."

"I don't remember this Sam guy, either, and who hasn't cheated on or with Finn somehow?"

"I sang 'I Say A Little Prayer' for my glee audition."

"All auditions were private."

"You called Sam and I 'Ken and Barbie.'"

"Serves you right if you really did call me names."

"You were always telling me I was sharp."

"As a tack?"

"When I sang."

"Oh, well, so was Kurt sometimes, if I remember correctly."

"You're kind of the reason Sam and I got together, because you convinced me to do a duet with him and when we won the competition and had dinner at Breadstix, we started dating."

"I've been a positive influence on many people's lives, and I still don't know this Sam guy. Was he that Asian dancer that never said anything until Tina started dating him?"

"…No. You told Finn that Puck was the father of my baby when he thought he was."

Rachel pouted. "I'm sorry."

Quinn considered that for only a moment. "I'm not mad at you."

"I should hope not, it's been years."

She sighed. "I…drew pornographic pictures of you on the bathroom wall."

"Oh, my God, QUINN!" Rachel exclaimed, and Quinn's eyes bulged. The brunette grinned.

"Y-you remember—"

"How have you been? It's so nice to see you," she babbled delightedly. "Did you ever become an artist? Because your drawings were really lifelike, if unflattering." She nodded sagely behind her punch cup.

Quinn's cheeks were flaming. "N-no. Lawyer."

"Ah. Makes sense."

Rachel smiled, Quinn blushed, and tension marinated.

"So. You wanna go make out?"

Quinn's eyes bulged for the second time and she spluttered, "Wh-wh-what? Wh-why would I wanna d-do that? A-and with you? I mean, ugh!"

The fact that she was hot all over and was discreetly scanning the gym for the nearest exit didn't mean anything.

Rachel tilted her head. "Well, I mean, you're obviously gay, right?"

Quinn was red enough to pass out. "What? No! Wh-wh-why would you think that?"

"I just assumed you must've had real life experience after those drawings," she replied, shrugging casually.

Quinn tried to relearn how to breathe, and she was nearing success when Rachel added, "Plus, if you remember me after all these years, you must be hot for me."

"I am not!" she yelped instinctively.

Rachel frowned sympathetically now. It was amazing how many different emotions she could work into one action.

"Still in denial? Don't worry, Egypt isn't that far from France."

Blink. "What?"

"De Nile? French kissing?" Rachel shrugged, sipping her punch again. "I thought it was funny."

Rachel sipped, Quinn blushed, and tension steeped.

"So. Um, if you're not going to go for it, I think I'm going to go find Brittany," the brunette said at length, setting her cup down. "I remember her being easy. And anyway, if I can't have the hottest blonde at McKinley, I may as well go for second best, right?" She grinned cheekily.

Quinn blushed. She wasn't sure she remembered how to do anything else at this point.

"You don't even remember me," she mumbled.

Rachel smiled. "Things are starting to come back. Which, by the way, you were totally smoking when you wore leather for that mash-up we did of Bon Jovi and the Rolling Stones."

Blush. Wink. Deeper blush.

"Well, see you later."

It didn't mean anything that Quinn panicked when Rachel started to walk away. She just wanted…closure. That's it. Closure.



"You mentioned that other people have apologized to you tonight and, well, I'd like to do the same."

Rachel smirked, folding her arms. "No, you don't, you want to make out."

Quinn frowned. "No, really. I-I feel bad."

Rachel wasn't listening, evidently. "Yeah. Just kiss me one time, and then tell me you don't want to make out."

It didn't mean anything that Quinn again felt hot and wet all over. Nor would it mean anything if she just kissed her once. Just to prove it to her that that's not what she wanted, of course.

She grit her teeth. "Fine."

Rachel only had approximately half a second to smirk in triumph, but she used that half a second to its fullest extent. And then Quinn crashed their lips together.


Five minutes later…



"I migh neehda breeve."

"Oh!" Quinn pulled apart, and Rachel gasped for air. "Sorry."

Sparkling eyes landed on a sheepish blonde and she grinned.

"Don't ever apologize for landing a kiss that mind-blowing on me. If I had known, I would have been unpressing your lemon years ago," Rachel said bluntly.

"Unwhatting my what?"

She patted her shoulder. "So much to teach you, grasshopper."

Quinn smirked and rolled her eyes, and Rachel's eyes lit up in recognition.

"Now that's how I remember you, right there."

"You mean we could've avoided all—ugh."

"So are you still denying that you want to make out?" Rachel asked, eyebrows waggling comically.

"If you stop reminding me of Puck, no, but I am asking if you have a hotel room."

She mock-gasped. "Sex on our first night? Scandalous!"

"Not necessarily," Quinn replied, grinning. "I'm just a little uncomfortable with our audience."

As it turns out, everyone in the room was staring at them.

"Ah." Rachel smirked. "Sure you don't want to hit a janitor's closet? For old time's sake?"

Quinn paused to consider this. "It is a reunion. Besides, I probably couldn't keep my hands off of you long enough to drive anyway."

Rachel grinned, and Quinn was sure it didn't mean anything when her heart fluttered in response.

Well, maybe it meant a little.