Title: And You Keep Smiling

Pairing: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

Summary: A companion piece of Perspective Lenses told in 2nd person from Quinn's POV.

A/N 1: Sort of a companion piece of Perspective Lenses because I love Quinn Fabray and was kind of dying to know what was going on in her head as I wrote that fic so I wrote this one. Once again I'm writing in early morning hours so my eyes are weary and it's unbeta'd. Fair warning for grammatical errors.

A/N 2: I mention Quinn's pregnancy briefly just because Glee refuses to, haha.

A/N 3: A lot more angst-y than I intended it to be. But I imagine Quinn's inner monologue is kind of angst-y and 'woe is me'.

Your day starts off wrong the second you receive a text message from your girlfriend. Well, you call her your girlfriend but she's reluctant to call herself anything other than your friend because—if I simply allow you to call me your girlfriend while you sit idly by and allow our "relationship" to be a secret then you'll never want us to come out, Quinn—were the words she had told you over and over again with the same resounding—why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?

The text message simply read I would like to inform you that I am still upset about yesterday—but it was enough for you to grind your teeth as you sat at the breakfast table with your mom as she quizzed you on who you were taking to prom this year.

Ever since your parents divorced your mother's been trying to fill the void of having an absent father and her version of filling the void is to constantly hover over you and ask questions like, "Quinnie, are you thinking of becoming sexually active again? As your mother I have a right to know these things. We don't want a repeat of last time."

You don't even allow your mind to venture to 'last time'. The first and only time you had had sex with a boy had resulted in a teenage pregnancy that had shamed your entire family. You had given your daughter up for adoption despite Puck's almost mute protests of wanting to keep her. But you knew better, knew the both of you couldn't give her the life a child deserves.

"I'll see you later, mom. I have school," you mutter before grabbing your bookbag and heading out to your car.

You make it to school and, true to her word, Rachel is in fact still upset about the argument the two of you had the day before that resulted in you yelling at her that you weren't ready to come out and if she couldn't handle it then maybe she should find somebody else. She had grown silent, tears welling in her eyes before she calmly asked you to leave. You left, crying on the way home because every time you want to be reassuring when she feels insecure you end up lashing out with your own insecurities instead.

You don't think you deserve her and no amount of reassuring on her part will negate that thought.

Her locker slams behind her when you greet her at it and she politely throws a "Good morning, Quinn" in your face before walking off.

You don't talk to her for the rest of the day until glee club. By that time your anger over the situation had built up and before you could think better of it, you've passive aggressively started an argument with Santana.

"I need to get by."

Her smirk is positively feral as she manages to stare you down despite the fact that she's sitting. "Then get by, Quinn. Surely you aren't still carrying that extra baby fat around. Unless you've horded it all in that fat ass of yours."

You almost smile, the distraction of arguing with your frenemy easing your mind a little. "The extra suicides I ran all summer pretty much obliterated all the baby fat I had in me. You should know that considering you were the head Cheerio at the time, cracking the whip as I ran laps around the track field. Or was your two month stint as top dog over so quickly until I regained my rightful spot back that you can't even remember it?" Your eyebrow arches powerfully, not because you think it scares Santana but because you know it annoys her.

"Well let me tell you something, captain; you had better move along before your face becomes a permanent fixture in this floor." Her eye starts to twitch and the corners of your mouth lift in a victorious smirk. You're winning.

You place your hand on your hip. "Oh, really?" you growl. "Then how about you come off that riser and I'll–"


Your shoulders tense at the calm tone of voice in which your name is spoken. You turn around slowly to find Rachel looking at you pleadingly. She doesn't saying anything; she doesn't have to because you already know what those deep eyes are begging of you. Please don't start fights with everyone because you're angry with me.

But she's mistaken. You're not angry with her, you're angry with yourself for not being strong enough to give her what she wants but instead of telling her that you just walk to your seat. Your slumped shoulders say enough.

You don't sit beside her, haven't for a few days now because although the argument happened last night, the tension's been there for a while now. That doesn't stop you from staring at the back of her head for the next two hours though.

The next day you're at her locker dutifully because yeah, the two of you might be arguing but she's your girlfriend no matter what she says.

"You look really pretty today," you murmur.

She doesn't even turn to look at you. "Thank you."

You sigh. "Don't make this into such a big deal, Rachel. You were fine with it last week and you were fine with it three months ago when I told you I wasn't ready for everyone to know about us."

You're mere inches from her face and despite how intimate the lack of personal space is, it doesn't catch any unwanted attention. Back when you swore you hated her you still antagonized her from inches, centimeters from her face, perhaps even closer than you are now.

Her jaw tenses in anger and you kind of find it funny that ever since Rachel found out you had the hots for her, she doesn't take nearly as much of your shit as she used to. "Yes, Quinn, I was fine with it then but I most certainly am not fine with it now. I am sick of all of these hormonally riddled boys hitting on you because they think you're single, I am sick of not being able to hold your hand and kiss you in public and I am sick to death of your mother constantly asking both of us who we're taking to prom."

She finishes her rant, her lower lip trembling being the first sign that she just might cry and suddenly you feel like the worst girlfriend ever for forcing her into the closet with you just because you're too scared to come out.

She looks so small that you want to take her in your arms and hold her but the feel of invisible strings hold you in place almost like a puppet. She stares up at you, her big expressive eyes beseeching you and your own hazel do the same, but you don't know what you're asking for anymore.

"Hey, Rachel! Hi, Quinn!"

Rachel holds your gaze for a moment longer before turning away. "Hello, Brittany."

Your eyes slide over to Brittany as well, offering a small wave. "Hey, B." Your eyes fall on Rachel's back briefly, chest tightening as you walk away. She doesn't understand how you have to physically restrain yourself from reaching out and taking her in your arms sometimes.

The rest of the day is spent much like the day before, avoiding Rachel until the very last possible moment. You enter glee club and your eyes zero in on Rachel and Finn. He's directly beside her, their chairs being closer than any other of the other chairs in the room. And they're talking. Your fists clench at your sides. Her eyes dart to you briefly and you catch a flash of defiance before she turns back to Finn to carry on the conversation. She's pushing your buttons and she knows it. And it's working. You stomp further into the room, past them without even sparing a glace and continue up the risers.

"Stop fantasizing about me."

You don't even have to ask because the dirty smirk on Puck's face is all you need to know that he's thinking about the first and only time the two of you had together, possibly even embellishing.

A moment later he's hitting on Rachel and you've just about had enough of everyone hitting on your girlfriend. "Will you shut up?"

Suddenly he's staring at you, affronted. And Rachel. "What's got your undies in a bunch?"

"Nothing," you vehemently deny. "Just stop being such a pig all the time!"

He keeps staring at you but you've long since broken eye contact with him to stare at Rachel. She's looking at you in a mix of shock and awe, a ghost of a smile painting her lips before she abruptly looks away.

The next thing you see is Finn's arm draped over her shoulder and you think you're going to be sick. You cross your arms, looking away because the sight of Finn doing something to your girl that you're too afraid to do has your eyes stinging and your blood boiling.

"You and Finn are totally doin' it." It's whispered in your ear and you flush scarlet because Puck is so wrong but so close to being right that it scares you right back into the closet again.

The class can't end fast enough but as soon as it does your hand wraps around the warm skin of Rachel's arm and you mentally swoon at being able to touch her before roughly dragging her out of the choir room.

You don't let her go until you're in the confines of the girl's bathroom. The two of you have history in the space of those tiled walls, heated confrontations about who's stealing who's boyfriends and—more recently—even more heated make out sessions.

"You need to dump with Finn." Even as you spit the words out at her your heart aches at the possibly that in the span of a few days, Rachel's moved on and forgotten about you, leaving you to wilt in that lonely closet without the brunette's bright smile to provide you with warmth and sunlight.

Her arms cross over her chest as if protecting her heart. "Finn and I aren't together, Quinn, though I hardly see how it is any concern of yours. You're more than welcome to court him if you desire."

"I don't want him," you growl, stalking closer. She backs further up until she has nowhere else to go, pinned to the wall with fear in her eyes and you stop just two feet before her. She always swears to you that she's not afraid of you anymore because you've changed but sometimes you revert back and sometimes she gets scared and it sends you into a cycle of self-hate that you can't handle right now. You keep your distance, whispering quietly, "And it is my concern."


"You know why."

"Honestly, Quinn, if you can't even say it when we're in a room alone together then I hardly think we should be having this conversation. Finn and I aren't together. I'm single."

Your jaw tightens. That was a low blow. "No, you're not!"

"Yes, I am! I am sick and tired of going back and forth with you because you're not 'ready'. It's been three months, Quinn! You'll never be ready. Don't you think this hurts me?"

A tear slides down her cheek and you don't even realize you're crying too until you hear how broken you sound. "It hurts me too."

"I don't see how."

She's fed up. Completely spent of whatever sympathy she used to have for you and you find yourself spiraling, gripping at anything that'll make her stay.

"He's all over you! All the time and I –I—"

You stop. Coming up short and choking on your own words.

"You what, Quinn?" Your chest tightens. Her voice is filled with caution and concern, living and breathing on your words and if you can just get them out you know she'll stay.

"And I can't do what I want to do." She walks closer to you, close enough that you can feel her body heat and you're starved for contact, not quite meeting her eyes as you shuffle closer.

"What do you want to do?"

She won't let up. "Rachel—"

"What do you want to do, Quinn?"

"I want—" to kiss you in front of everyone so they'll all know. It's on the tip of your tongue but you can't get it out.

She understands. Or at least you hope so because her lips are on yours. Her arms wrap around your waist and your hands hold her face gently as she places a chaste kiss against your lips. It's been two days, two days and you're already this starved for her lips. Your tongue gently tries to pry inside but she's pulling back, stealing her arms back from around your waist and you suddenly feel cold and hollow.

"Just give me time, please." You don't care how desperate you sound. You felt warm and loved and now you feel cold and lonely and you'll give anything to chase those feelings away.

"I will. But for now, I think we should just…put a hold on everything. Until you're ready." She sounds so professional, as if not being together doesn't affect her at all and it both angers and hurts you.

"I don't want that."

"I need that."

She doesn't allow you to retort before she's out the door and a second later Brittany's emerging from a stall in a rumpled Cheerios uniform and a face pinched with worry. Your heart stops. "Quinn! Did you choke Rachel?"

Your heart starts back up at high speed. You turn to grab a paper towel to dab at your eye, swallowing in an attempt to dislodge your heart from your throat. "How much did you guys hear?"

"Better question is; what the fuck is going on?"

Santana's looking at you with a raised eyebrow and you decide right then and there that you can't. You can't be a lesbian like her because you've seen first hand what she goes through, how she has to keep it a secret and how she's in constant turmoil. You don't want to be able to relate to that type of life. But you do. But if you deny it—and if there is anything that you can do, it's deny—you won't have to worry about it. At least for now. "Nothing."

She shrugs. And you realize you've made the right decision because she clearly doesn't care. "I don't care. C'mon, B."

Before you realize, Brittany has her arms around you and for a scant second you're okay. She smells like peppermints and her hugs are awesome so you bask in it for as long as you can.

"You can talk to us whenever you want to, okay?"

You smile. "Thanks, B."

They leave you to your lonesome and you turn around to face the sink and mirrors to check the damage of the little make-up you have on your face. Any time you hurt Rachel you reduce yourself into a big ball of guilt until you apologize. But you're hurting too and although you know you're causing your own pain, you'd like for her to realize that she isn't the only one that hates the decision to keep you guys a secret.

But you also realize that you're the one that can end the secret and the pain and resentment that's beginning to fester between the two of you.

Being Quinn Fabray was never easy, but being Quinn Fabray the lesbian is even harder and more than you bargained for.

But being Quinn Fabray, Rachel Berry's girlfriend kind of makes it all worth it for you.

It's been a week and you and Rachel have gotten better. She had lifted the ban she put on you and her house and you were over every day. Heated make-out sessions and exchanges of "I love yous" were beginning to quell the heart ache the two of you had garnered over your fight.

In fact, you're on your way to her locker to greet her when you slow down, the smile you had on your face being instantly wiped off. It's Finn. He's at her locker and in her space like he belongs there and it rubs you the wrong way.

Finn and I aren't an item…

You recite her words over and over again in your head because your anger's bubbling through your veins with every step you take and although you trust Rachel, you don't trust him and before you know it, you're at her locker, in his face, words flying from your mouth without a second thought.

"What are you doing talking to her?"

You forget how tall he is, towering over you without much effort and you have to practically break your neck to look up at him. He fumbles over his words and you roll your eyes. "I –I was just—"

"Finn and I were just exchanging notes for our new duet we have to perform next week."

She's taking up for him and all three of you know it. You feel like a fool. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Hey, now hold on. She isn't doing anything."

"She's doing enough." Your hands tighten into fists as Finn cuts into the conversation you started with Rachel.

"Quinn, I suggest you leave now before you say or do something you regret." Her voice is strained. She must see the fire in your eyes. She knows that once you get started you rarely think your arguments through, relying on instinct and how well you know your opponent to deliver stinging blows every single time without much effort. It had taken many arguments that resulted in Rachel crying for her to make you realize that when you argue with her you shouldn't treat her like your enemy.

Your mouth shuts almost immediately, but the fire in your eyes is hardly suppressed. You walk closer to her slowly until you're hovering over her. Your foot unconsciously slips between Rachel's own to bring you hip to hip, stomach to stomach, breast to breast. Your breathing picks up and hers does the same as she looks up at you, daring you. Her dark eyes swirl with emotion because this moment can go either way and it's completely up to you on how this plays out.

You kiss her instantly, almost clumsily before you lose the nerve. Your left hand snakes around her waist and crushes her to you, a groan leaving her lips as you grab her hair and pull it back so you can thrust your tongue into her mouth. You're acutely aware of a crowd of people gathering and although you can feel fear creep up your spine, you simply keep kissing her, because the warm hands on your shoulders ground you enough to be able to focus back on her fully.

After thoroughly ravaging her mouth in a way you know she'll never forget you pull away. She stares at you, her expression unreadable and you almost roll your eyes because you know she's impressed.

You hear whispers and snickers and your Rachel induced bubble is popped as you swivel around quickly to glare at the freshmen as they walk pass. They catch your eye and quickly speed down the hall.

"How long?"

Finn's voice barely contains his hurt and anger and you turn to him, almost forgetting he was there. Rachel doesn't appear to be forthcoming so you decide to be the vocal one for a change. "Three months."

"I don't like the smug look on your face."

"I don't like your face at all," you spitefully fire back.

"Quinn!" You look down at her. "Can you stand on the other side of the hallway? Finn and I won't be long."

You're a little sick of her bossing you around like a dog especially at this place where you reign and you frown, making a mental note to talk to her about that later as you walk off.

You slam back against the lockers on the other side of the hall almost petulantly, jerking your head to the right as if finding the nearby water fountain more exciting. You sigh quietly, trying to wrap your head around the fact that you made out with your girlfriend in the middle of the hallway with a crowd around. What a way to come out. But you're a Fabray and Fabrays don't half ass anything. A faint smile touches your lips as you think that maybe you and Santana are going to have a lot to talk about on the phone later.

Your eyes find Rachel again because they can never stay off of her long. She's looking right back at you as she talks to Finn, returning your smile briefly.

She turns back to Finn with parting words before she's literally skipping back over to you. She hops into your arms and you catch her with hands around her waist. She grabs your face and crushes your lips together in a bruising kiss that threatens to suffocate the smiles the two of you have on your faces.

It doesn't though. And you keep smiling.