Faberry (We Might Fall Hard, We Might Fall Fast)

5

Rachel Berry likes order. She likes planning and lists and things to be alphabetized, and putting all the necessary information of her life into ring binders with colour coded dividers. She'd been diagnosed with mild OCD a year ago and it worked out just fine for her. An organized life is an organized mind. Or something along those lines. She liked the structure she had to her day and had never strayed from it. Until now. It wasn't like she was going completely off the rails, she was just distracted.

The whole thing with Quinn had thrown her off balance. During the Friday night dinner their entire interaction felt natural and fluid, like they'd been doing this for years and not for a few hours. It wasn't until they'd said goodnight and she'd gone to bed did she start thinking about it.

The way she thought about it was this: There were different versions of Quinn Fabray. There was the head cheerleader Quinn who was very often angry at her for some reason, and had a tendency to slam her locker door shut to get her attention. The pregnant ex-cheerleader Quinn who just kind of ignored her and drew unpleasant caricatures of her. And now there was a third Quinn, who was still pregnant, obviously, but who had softened towards her considerably and was actually very dorky. Rachel thought it was the most adorable thing.

It was still confusing though. In the entire time she'd known her the blonde had always seemed pissed off at everything, even when they were kids. Her default facial expression is one of bored annoyance. So why was this Quinn mark III so much different than the other two? She thought she could just accept the dramatic change and not think too hard about it, but that just isn't in her nature.

When she'd woken up two hours late Saturday morning because of all the thoughts buzzing around in her head until three A.M, she had to half her elliptical routine, skip the songs she usually sung in the shower, which was actually beneficial to her parents' water bill because it has been proven that people take longer showering when they sing. She also had to rush her breakfast which she didn't like to do because it made her feel bloated, and then start work on the truffles.

While she waited for Quinn to wake up, she thought about all the things she wanted to ask her, but quite a lot of them sounded ridiculous, particularly the clichéd one of 'Who the hell are you? And what have you done with the real Quinn Fabray?' Those kinds of questions can get taken the wrong way. Besides, the blonde being possessed or invaded by some unknown entity was highly unlikely. If it were to be anything, it would be the work of scientists and cloning. Or possibly robotics.

All her questions abandoned however when the well rested looking pregnant girl had come downstairs, because Quinn was probably hungry. And a well fed baby is a healthy baby and a healthy baby is a happy one. When baby is happy so is Mom.

During breakfast Quinn was charming and funny just like she had been the night before, and she was happy to be the recipient of the attention, even the weird proposal. But she still wanted to know why the blonde was this way with her. Her questions remained unasked when Quinn told her she had to go and she was a little bummed about that, she'd been looking forward to spending more time with her. But meeting the two Cheerio's had clearly been pre-arranged and when she had to decline the invitation to join them at the mall, she had never felt such an irrational resentment towards chocolate balls in her life.

She didn't finish up until four and by then it was too late to join the three girls who were probably having a lot more fun than she was. And when her Dad's left she did what any normal teenager would do. She moped.

When her phone rang and she saw who it was she became so excited she forgot to answer it for a few seconds. She regained her composure and told herself to Be Cool. So what was the first thing she said? 'I was just thinking about you' That wasn't cool, that was a little creepy. Quinn didn't seem to mind though. She tried so hard to be casual, but then she went into detail about why she had been thinking about her and it took all her willpower to stop herself from grabbing a cushion and smothering her face with it. Her invitation for the other girl to stay the night had been the direct result of finding out Quinn had to sleep in the basement. What kind of person lets a pregnant girl sleep in the basement?