Title: Like a Seal Upon Your Heart
Pairings: Eventual R/Q, P/Q, F/R
Rating: Up to NC-17
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. Some dialogue used directly from Glee, so also not mine.
Spoilers: Through Journey.
Summary: From a prompt in the angst section at rq_meme on Livejournal. AU. Rachel and Quinn are friends, 17 years old, are in their junior year. Quinn was never a Cheerio, never got pregnant.
Warning: This fic contains het sex and deals quite heavily with religion. You've been warned.

A/N: FFN won't accept the less-than-three symbol for Rachel's texts, so, I had to use *heart*. Just fyi.

Richmond Elementary School, October 2005

Her dress was floor-length, a muted sage color with a sash around the waist, garnished by a flower… and it was the most uncomfortable thing Quinn Fabray had ever worn in her life. And none of the other 11-year-olds were dressed like this, with their simple skirts or dresses like the ones she wore to church. But Judy Fabray had insisted, and only Quinn's older sister Abbie had had sympathy enough to pat her on the shoulder.

She didn't like to stick out like a sore thumb, either, but the Fabrays always managed it, somehow.

Her father hadn't done much dancing, even though she stubbornly reminded him once that this was a Father-Daughter dance. Russell Fabray was content to just stand by the punch bowl talking to the other fathers, no doubt about boring things like business. She knew her father was probably wishing that there was something stronger than just punch in that bowl.

Quinn made her way over to the refreshments table and stood patiently, hands held primly in front of her like her mother had taught. The Fabrays were nothing if not models of decorum and politeness, and it had been drilled into Quinn since birth. Her father was well-known in the community, not just through his business but through the church, and for his family, image was everything.

Finally noticing his daughter at his elbow, Mr. Fabray smiled down at her. "Everything all right, Quinn?"

She smiled back, first at him, then the other men standing around her father. "Yes, sir. I wanted to ask you a question."

"And what question does my Quinn have for me?"

The other fathers were smiling now, clearly impressed with Mr. Fabray's little girl.

"May I please go play on the swings, daddy?"

Her father's brow furrowed, and she steeled herself for his "no" answer.

"It's going to be dark soon, and your mother will have both of our hides if you get your dress dirty, Quinn."

She nodded. "Yes, sir. But I'll come back in before it's dark, and I promise I won't get my dress dirty. Please, daddy?"

She affected the best pouty look she could, knowing her father was powerless to resist.

And he was. He laughed and said, "You see, I can never turn down those hazel eyes of hers." The other men laughed in agreement. "Go on, then. Fifteen minutes, and don't wander off anywhere else."

"Okay!" She said happily. "Thank you, daddy."

"Beautiful little girl you've got there, Russ," she heard Jessica Davis' father say as she skipped off.

"She's a jewel in my crown, that's for sure," her father said.

The October night was just growing cool; the sun had begun fading into a glorious pink over the trees. Quinn tugged at her dress, grateful that the dance would soon be over and she would be able to take the stupid thing off and put on her favorite comfy pajamas.

Her thoughts stilled, though, when she realized that she wouldn't be alone on the playground.

The other girl was smaller; in the same grade as Quinn but a different class. She was wearing a pleated black skirt with a sweater, but she hadn't been in the dance. She was just swinging, tiny fingers gripping the chains, chin lifted up as she stared at something beyond the brick line of Richmond Elementary.

"Rachel?"

Her gaze snapped over to Quinn, softening when she saw the blonde girl.

"Hello, Quinn. Enjoying the dance?"

Quinn shrugged. "Not really," she said with a grin, taking her place on the swing next to Rachel – after first wiping the dirt off with her hand.

"My dad doesn't dance much, and I'm bored. So I came out here for a few minutes."

Rachel nodded, but didn't respond. The girls fell into silence then, broken only by Quinn's question.

"How come you're not inside?"

"Oh, I'm not participating in the dance. I don't quite understand our school's enjoyment of forced social situations."

"Oh." Quinn just nodded.

Rachel smiled at her a little. "Besides, I refuse to choose between my daddies."

Everyone knew that Rachel Berry had two dads. Not that she had a father and then a stepdad; no, Rachel had two dads that lived together, loved each other, and… probably did things that Quinn was pretty sure her pastor at Lighthouse Baptist had preached against several times.

Her unusual family had left Rachel somewhat ostracized, Quinn knew, but that was about it. They moved in different circles, different classes, and she was pretty sure that in her entire six years at school, this conversation was the longest one she'd ever had with Rachel.

"Well, so, what are you doing out here then?"

The music was still audible; Quinn could hear the pulsing rhythm of some pop song echoing across the asphalt. Rachel swung quietly for a few minutes; out of the corner of her eye Quinn could see that the girl's head was tilted, her tongue tucked between her teeth as if she was deep in thought. Her left hand untangled from the chain, and one small finger moved to push a lock of brown curly hair behind her ear.

"I come here sometimes, just when I want to be alone. I'd forgotten the dance was tonight."

Quinn quirked an eyebrow; the dance had been all anyone at Richmond Elementary could talk about for days; there was no way Rachel couldn't have known it was tonight. But she didn't press the issue; instead, she stood up and brushed her dress off, preparing to rejoin her father.

"That's a really pretty dress."

Quinn grinned. "I hate it. It's uncomfortable."

Rachel grinned back. "I wouldn't know. I don't wear dresses like that. But you do look very nice, Quinn."

"Thanks." She felt suddenly shy, but her smile grew wider.

Rachel's head tilted again, regarding her. "You look like Juliet. Or, well, how I imagine she might look."

"Juliet?"

"Yes, from Romeo and Juliet."

Quinn just looked at her.

Rachel tried again. "William Shakespeare?"

Quinn shook her head.

Rachel blew out a slow breath, looking as if she was about to go on a long rant, but thought better of it. "Doesn't even know Shakespeare," she only muttered, before squaring her shoulders and smiling back at Quinn.

"But yes. You're pretty in that dress, like I imagine Juliet is. In the story. You should read it sometime."

"Maybe I will," Quinn nodded.

"Quinn?"

She glanced over her shoulder. "Over here, Daddy." She waved at him.

He smiled as he crossed the playground. "There you are. It's time to go. Did you remember to keep your dress clean?"

"Yes, Daddy." She noticed that he was staring at Rachel, so she gestured weakly.

"This is Rachel Berry, Daddy. She's in Mr. Walker's class."

The expression on her father's face at Rachel's name wasn't lost on Quinn, and she chewed her lip nervously. Russell Fabray's disapproval of Rachel's family was well-known to his wife and daughters.

But if his smile was a little bit more strained than before, it didn't disappear, and he spoke kindly. "It's very nice to meet you, Rachel."

She nodded slowly. "It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Fabray."

"Quinn?" Her father offered his arm, and his daughter took it.

They began to walk off, but Quinn, realizing that Rachel was still behind her, turned to look over her shoulder.

"Bye, Rachel," she called with a little smile, then turned back around and allowed herself to be propelled to her father's car.

Quinn thought she heard Rachel whisper "Bye, Juliet," as she walked away.

Her father turned to her as he pointed the car in the direction of their home.

"Quinn," he began.

She knew that tone, and so she straightened up in her seat, hands clasped in her lap.

"I don't think you should be hanging around that girl."

That girl. It sounded poisonous, almost, coming from his lips.

"She doesn't have any other friends, Daddy."

She didn't know if it was true, but every time Quinn had seen Rachel in school – at lunch or in the library – she'd always been alone. So maybe it was true.

"I know she doesn't, and it's a very sad thing that her… well, those men didn't think about the consequences of their actions when they adopted her. Their sin is one thing, but exposing an innocent child to their perversion is despicable."

"But it isn't her fault, Daddy," she protested quietly, realizing she was probably riding a very thin line with her father.

To her surprise, he only smiled a little and nodded at her. "Of course it isn't. Still, I don't want you being influenced by her, or her fathers. And as much as I think she needs a positive role model, a godly friend, I don't want it to be you. You're to stay away from her."

She also knew that tone, that finality, with the underlying threat of harshness, if she dared to even think of disobedience.

So Quinn Fabray just nodded, and spoke the words by which her life was governed.

"Yes, sir."

Quinn Fabray's room, 2010

"I can't do this."

Somehow, studying for Spanish had ended up as this, with Quinn sprawled on the bed and Noah Puckerman almost on top of her, eyeing her as if she were dinner.

"Yes, you can," Puck said smoothly. "Here, have another wine cooler."

There had to be something wrong about a drink called "fuzzy navel," Quinn was sure of it. But her head was already hazy and Puck's hand had already slipped up her dress to grasp her right thigh. So she downed half of the second drink in one gulp.

She was glad that her parents weren't home. She just wished Jesus would stop judging her from the wall above her bed.

"I'm president of the Celibacy Club," she tried again, a little weaker this time. She didn't know if it was the alcohol or her resolve, but she was slipping, fast. "I took a vow."

"Drop the good girl act, Quinn," Puck said, the fingers of one hand already hooking into her underwear. "We both know you didn't invite me over here, knowing your parents would be gone, to memorize bible verses."

He ran his other hand along her center, over the fabric of her underwear.

That was supposed to feel good, right? So she moaned.

"Besides, you only live once. Life's just a bunch of experiences, you know? You don't get a medal at the finish line for being good."

She opened her mouth to speak, but Puck crushed his lips to hers, harshly. "You only get dead," he growled, and bit her lower lip.

She squeaked, and he grinned.

"You can't… you can't tell anybody," she said, glancing over to the bible resting on her desk.

Her father would kill her.

She was already half-expecting to be struck down anyway. And if you were going to incur God's wrath, might as well go all out.

"Our secret, baby."

Her panties were down around her knees.

"Wait!" Suddenly panicked, she pushed him away. "What about protection?"

He held up the condom package and ripped it open in a swift move.

"I got it, trust me. This isn't just another hookup for me."

She nodded, a little fearful as she watched him put the condom on. Then his hands hooked under the underside of her knees and pulled her legs apart.

He smiled, just before he climbed on top of her.

"Tell me again," Quinn sighed, closing her eyes, feeling him hard and unyielding against her thigh.

"This is what chicks and guys are supposed to do."

An hour later, when she was alone and curled in her bed with her knees pulled up to her stomach, seventeen-year-old Quinn glanced up at the picture on her wall, trying to ignore the sting between her legs, and hoped to God Puck had been right.