Never asked to feel your halo (Faberry)

42: Going Down With The Ship.

Had Rachel mentioned how much she hated gym?

As they all lined up and waited to be picked for sides on the Volley Ball match, she did her best to ignore the whole thing. She was always picked last no matter who the captains were – and the captains were always Cheerios so that probably explained it.

She'd stopped caring about it a long time ago. She was competent in most sports due to her daily workout routine and disciplined attitude to her physical health and well-being, but she wasn't naturally gifted in that way like some of the other girls were. It was fine, she had talents they didn't. So let them choose her last, she had bigger things to focus her mind to.

She was vaguely aware of Quinn picking Santana and Kassie picking Brittany, but her mind was on Coach Sylvester. She would be co-directing Glee Club from next week and that could only be a bad thing. She had to figure out what could she do to counteract the woman's detrimental effects?

"Berry, don't make me tell you again!"

Quinn's shout penetrated her thoughts. "Pardon?"

"Get over here!" Quinn's eyes were darting around nervously now because she was drawing too much attention.

Rachel realized she'd just been picked second after Santana and as much as she wanted to shoot the blonde down in front of everyone, she couldn't do it. So she scurried to Quinn's side and did her best to ignore the hateful look the Santana was giving her. It wasn't like she'd asked to be picked!

Rachel hadn't looked as elated as she was supposed to when Quinn picked her. In fact she just seemed nervous. It did not make the looks she was getting from the other girls – especially the cheerleaders – worth it.

She'd screwed up, it was too public a gesture. Quinn itched to undermine it by explaining that Rachel was just so hideous that she'd put the other team off of their game and ensure her side the victory.

She stopped herself, just.

"I'm counting on you putting those man hands of yours to good use, Berry," she snarled instead.

She couldn't help it; there was whispering happening now!

"Of course, Quinn." Rachel spoke up, clear and bright. "I don't think you'll be disappointed in what I can do with my hands."

'Holy . . . what?' There was way too much air in her lungs. She expelled a heavy breath and then breathed in again. Just what did Rachel mean by that? As if she couldn't guess! That was crossing a line. There were . . . people here! Rachel couldn't just say stuff like . . . that.

Fighting the urge to blush and telling herself the warmth in her body was just anticipation for the volley ball match ahead, Quinn got a hold on herself and snapped out another name.

"You know, I think I got it wrong." Santana said halfway through the first match.

They were at the back together. Quinn was in the middle in the front row but Santana's voice was low enough that with the squeak of sneakers on the floor, the panting and occasional grunting coming from the other girls and the teacher's voice echoing around the room as she shouted out encouragement, it was a good bet the blonde couldn't hear her friend's words.

"You got what wrong?" Rachel decided to bite but her eyes never left the airborne ball.

Annoyed as she was with Quinn she wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of letting her down and causing their team's defeat.

"About what happened in the bathroom Tuesday." Santana's tone was too innocent to be purely conversational.

"You don't think you got it wrong," she corrected. "You know you did. You made up the lie. I know you sent that text message."