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Pick it up. Pick up your feet. You're dragging. She’s gaining. Pick up your feet. She’s too close. She’s too close. Pick up your feet, Quinn! Pick up your-
Quinn pushed herself, her brow furrowing as a purple leotard faded out of her peripheral. She was so close, and she wasn’t going to let gotdamn Tina Cohen-Chang overtake her. Not now. Not with her watching.
“At the tape is Connecticut’s Quinn Fabray.”
She choked out a breath, slowing to a stop as she looked for her coaches and teammates. They were to her right, a little ways behind her, jumping up and down and hugging each other. Coach Sylvester held a fist out, before giving her a thumbs up. The corners of her usually stoic mouth betrayed her as they lifted.
Quinn almost wanted to cry.
Thank God she’d won. Sue probably would’ve killed her if she hadn’t. Last meet of the year, and Quinn loses? Yale loses? She’d rather be dead.
Tina, the sophomore from NYU that had been this close to defeating Quinn all season, held her hand out and congratulated the blonde, before slipping away to her own teammates.
Quinn was half aware of the cameras focused on her as her teammates hugged her. The speakers were still discussing her, and her giant sweep today. She’d placed first in all of her heats, crushing the other schools. A good semi-end to her junior season, indeed. She only had to focus on championships, now, and those were weeks away.
Now, if only she could get Rachel Berry to pay any attention to her.
The assistant coach was corralling her team into submission while her superior comforted a sniffly Tina. She seemed to be going over statistics as they gathered their belongings, no doubt gearing up for a long week of Rachel telling them everything they did wrong.
Quinn didn’t know why Rachel didn’t just work under Coach Sylvester. They’d probably hate each other, but the pair would lead Yale to produce the best track stars in the country.
Rachel glanced up, and furrowed her brow at Quinn, shaking her head almost imperceptibly, before glancing down. Quinn’s grin grew wider, and then dropped as she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“So we’re going to go get dinner tonight, as a group. This is our last night in New York, and-”
Maybe yours, Quinn thought, easily sweeping the hand off her shoulder.
The voice belonged to Dakota, some freshman who had taken a liking to Quinn at the beginning of the conditioning season. Of all girls to develop a crush on her, it had to be the one that barely ever did well enough to come in the top three.
Out of five.
A part of her thought Dakota was doing it for safety. She had to have known that she wasn’t safe from Sue Sylvester. Quinn, star athlete, wasn’t safe from Sue Sylvester.
“I’m good,” Quinn spoke evenly. “My family actually flew out, so I’m probably going to go to dinner with them.” She nodded to the bleachers, where her mother and sister were making their way down, each holding tiny hands belonging to her niece and nephew.
“Okay! Well, if you end up changing your mind, you have my number,” Dakota reminded her, ponytail swishing as she spoke.
Quinn just sighed, hoisting her duffel bag onto her shoulder, and turning away from the girl before she could say anything else.
One glance back at her family told her that it’d take a few minutes for them to make their way to the bottom of the arena. She had time.
Go get your girl, Fabray.
Rachel was on the outskirts of it all, running through her checklist. Her right hand was beating out a rhythm on her thigh, and Quinn watched her look around,
The blonde tucked an errant piece of hair behind her ears, blushing at the way Rachel smirked at her, and powered through the small crowd of people in between them. She raised her hand and offered an insanely awkward wave that Rachel laughed at, before mimicking. Quinn’s cheeks flushed deeper.
“Hey, traitor,” Rachel called, quirking her brow. “Congratulations.”
Quinn laughed self-consciously, her fingers instantly finding her hair and twirling her ponytail as they exchanged pleasantries.
“Are you doing anything fun for spring break?” the blonde asked, her face taking over a guilty smile when Rachel scowled at her. “What?”
“We’re not doing that, Quinn.”
Quinn feigned innocence, tilting her head in imitation of a puppy dog. “Doing what?”
“You know what.” The brunette glanced around, hair whipping as she made sure they were alone. “We shouldn’t have done it last time. Meets are not the place for hookups.”
“You’ve been saying that since my first meet… I looked it up, you know.” Quinn grinned cockily, her brain finding its natural rhythm again as she bantered with the girl. “‘Good luck sex’ isn’t a real thing. Especially when the girl you’re wishing good luck isn’t even on your team.”
“You were supposed to be,” Rachel countered, stepping closer. “I recruited you. You were supposed to be on my team, and replace me when I left.”
“Yeah, but it’s much more fun to mess with you as an opponent. Imagine how boring it’d be if we were teammates. Or, like, friends.”
Rachel scoffed at the girl. “I’d be your coach, now.”
“Coach Berry.” Quinn tried the title out, her nose scrunching up. “I don’t know how good that would sound in-”
“Auntie Quinn!” a tiny voice called, and Quinn’s eyes widened as she whipped around, just fast enough to pick up the little boy, swinging him around.
“Weston!” She kissed his cheek, and he grinned, wrapping his arms around her neck and holding on tight.
Quinn could see Rachel watching the exchange out of the corner of her eye, and turned to face the girl fully, shooting her last shot. “So… your place?”
The brunette rolled her eyes as she nodded, leaning forward to kiss Weston’s other cheek. “Tell Auntie Quinn to hurry up and graduate. I’m tired of her recycling the same script every time I see her.”
Quinn huffed a laugh, bouncing the boy in her arms. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Rachel rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help rising on her tiptoes to kiss the corner of Quinn’s mouth. “We’ll beat you next time.”