Never asked to feel your halo (Faberry)

6: The one you warned me all about...

Quinn slowly blinked awake Friday morning and stretched out comfortably beneath her sheets and blanket and . . .

. . . six minutes after that she was throwing up.

As she stepped into the shower, tilting her head back and opening her mouth to wash out the foul taste, she knew it was going to be a bad day. For starters, she was still feeling sick despite having just emptied her stomach.

She stayed in the shower for a long time, and when she finally turned the water off she bypassed the towel waiting for her on the rack and instead walked back into her bedroom to grab the towel draped over her desk chair.

The scent was fading fast now but there was just about enough left to make her feel a little better as she breathed it in. Right now she hated the idea of needing anything from Rachel Berry – just what had she been trying to accuse her of yesterday, anyway? – but not enough to turn down the material comfort the girl offered. She couldn't actually wait to get to school and have this day old towel replaced with a fresh one.

Which did not translate in any way to her wanting to see Berry . . . she just really wanted her fabric softener.

Rachel was sitting in first period History, head bent studiously over her textbook; although really she was jotting down extra notes for their performance that afternoon. She didn't have to be so stealthy – the lesson had yet to start and it wasn't like anyone ever sat in the empty space next to her – but the teacher was only a few feet in front and she didn't want to be caught breaking the rules.

Talking of rules, she instantly broke one when the chair beside her was pulled out and someone sat down. To be fair though, she hadn't known who was planning to sit down when she'd looked up. Her startled expression quickly turned to one of pleasant surprise.

Quinn did not smile back. "Lose the puppy dog look. Do you have something for me?"

"Excuse . . . Oh!" It was obvious what Quinn was referring to. "I'm sorry, no."

"Is it in your locker?" Quinn asked impatiently.

"No, I didn't wash one this morning. I didn't think you'd want me to."

Quinn's face fell and then hardened. "Bitch!" she muttered vehemently and then her chair was scraping back sharply as she stood and walked to her usual seat.

Mouth open in surprise, Rachel turned to stare after the cheerleader but when Santana sneered and gave her the finger she quickly turned back to the front. What the heck had that been about? Again Rachel worried for Quinn's mental health while at the same time wishing she hadn't talked herself out of grabbing a dirty towel the day before. But how was she to have known? It wasn't as if they had parted on the best of terms in the auditorium.

She was hurt by the harshness of Quinn's words but that paled in comparison to her concern. What was the big deal about the towels? Now she felt guilty for going against her instincts and she didn't like feeling guilty. It wasn't something she usually had to deal with; her single-mindedness in achieving her goals sort of made guilt a moot point, but, for some reason . . . she felt worse about not washing a towel for Quinn than she did about kissing the cheerleader's boyfriend – it was all extremely confusing.

Once the lesson started she did her best to pay attention but her mind was too caught up in other thoughts and for once they weren't about herself. She had to get to the bottom of this.

Second period for Quinn was Biology and thank God they weren't dissecting anything today. Mind you, the pictures they had to look at were disturbing enough – no girl should ever have to see what the inside of a boy's penis looked like, even if it was just a printed diagram.