fic: Without Hope Or Agenda
TITLE: Without Hope or Agenda
SPOILERS: All of Season 1. I’ve ignored the existence of a superfluous Season 2 character and ignored one of the relationships that Team Glee has created, possibly whilst high. Still, spoilers for Season 2 up to and including the Christmas episode.
RATING: G. This is just a giant piece of fluff.
SUMMARY: Just because it’s Christmas (and at Christmas, you tell the truth)
WORDS: 2,252
PAIRINGS: Rachel/Quinn, side Santana/Brittany
NOTES: I usually thank people when I post a fic but I’ve never really dedicated a fic to anyone before. This one is for two people: darchino and justlookingforfootprints. Sorry I didn’t get it finished for Christmas.
NOTES 2: If you haven’t already, watch Love Actually. This fic will probably make more sense if you do.
With Mr Schuester’s house decorated, the members of the glee club make their way outside to head to their own homes to be with their families. Rachel is the first to exit, walking quickly away from the rest of the group towards a car further up the street. Quinn watches with a frown on her face as the brunette climbs into the backseat and the car moves away.
“Are you coming?” Brittany’s voice shakes the blonde from her reverie.
“What?” she asks, spinning around to find the taller cheerleader beaming at her.
“Our Christmas Eve tradition?” Brittany’s face falls slightly. “Did you forget?”
“No, Britt! Of course not!” Quinn says, glancing towards Santana. “You’re okay with me being there, right? I know we haven’t…”
“Whatever,” Santana says, rolling her eyes and pulling Brittany towards her car, “Bring some popcorn!”
Quinn walks to her own car and jumps inside, unable to shake the look of a despondent Rachel Berry from her mind. Not that she thinks about Rachel Berry often or how inverted the brunette’s despondency/happiness ratio has become since she and Finn have officially started dating. Quinn mentally slaps herself and drives towards her house.
She finds a couple of packets of microwave popcorn languishing in the back of a cupboard for Santana and goes to change out of her Cheerios uniform, feeling an enormous amount of relief when she pulls her hair out of its ponytail. She dresses in a pair of jeans and a shirt before glancing at herself in the mirror. She shrugs and reaches for the cardigan she’s been wearing over her uniform all day before pulling on a pair of faded sneakers. With another glance at herself in the mirror, she feels the ever-present tension in her neck and shoulders start to loosen and sighs, shaking her head from side to side before leaving her house and driving to Brittany’s.
**
Brittany has already picked the movie by the time Quinn arrives and is lying next to Santana on the bed. The taller blonde insists that Quinn squeezes on next to them but Quinn declines, sitting down on the floor at the foot of the bed, legs curled beneath her.
The movie is one of their favourites and this is the third Christmas Eve in a row that they’re watching Hugh Grant dance through 10 Downing Street, Keira Knightley use banoffee pie as a method of bribery and probably the only nativity play that includes lobsters and an octopus.
“Eight is a lot of legs, David,” Brittany intones, mimicking the accent of the actress on the screen. Quinn glances over her shoulder to see Santana grinning at the other girl, their faces inching together. Quinn feels a blush spread up over her cheeks and turns her attention back to the television, focusing on the film and trying to ignore the sounds of her friends giggling and exchanging quick kisses.
“Do you mind?” Quinn asks at last when the giggling turns into laughter and the kissing turns into a tickle fight.
“Not really,” Santana says. “It’s not like you don’t know what happens.”
“I’d rather watch the movie than listen to you two do… whatever,” Quinn says, throwing a glance over her shoulder again. “Can’t you wait until I’ve gone?”
“Sorry, Quinn,” Brittany says, pushing Santana’s hands away.
“Don’t apologise, it’s not our fault she’s got a gigantic stick shoved up her ass,” Santana states, rolling back onto her side of the bed, fixing the girl on the floor with a look.
“I don’t have a gigantic stick shoved anywhere,” Quinn retorts.
“Maybe that’s the whole problem. It’s been a while, right?” Santana raises an eyebrow and Quinn blushes furiously.
“Shut it, Santana.”
“Guys, please,” Brittany interjects, placing a hand on her girlfriend’s arm, “Watch the movie.”
Santana narrows her eyes at Quinn then flicks her gaze back to the television. Quinn opens her mouth to apologise but frowns instead and turns back to the movie too as the Christmas concert begins and the great Mrs Jean Anderson bogarts the musical number.
They watch the rest of the movie in silence and when it ends, instead of feeling full of Christmas cheer and hope, Quinn feels empty. When she turns to look at her friends, seeing their hands intertwined, their fingers interlaced on the bed, she feels worse.
“What?” Santana asks, increasing her grip on Brittany’s hand. “I seriously never realised you were this much of a prude, Fabray.”
“That’s not it,” Quinn shakes her head quickly. “You and Brittany, whatever it is you guys are doing, I’m fine with it. Honestly.”
“Since when?” Santana asks, a little incredulously.
“Since she started crushing on Rachel,” Brittany says, smiling at the pair in turn. Quinn turns white and Santana roars with laughter.
“Quinn and Streisand? Streisand and Quinn? Oh god,” Santana clutches her stomach, rolling away from Brittany and teetering on the edge of the bed. The other two stare at Santana as she continues to gasp for air. “It’s not true, is it?”
Quinn remains silent and Santana’s jaw drops.
“Oh my god.”
“It’s not… I’m not… she’s…” Quinn closes her eyes, “It doesn’t matter. I’m going.” She turns and walks towards the bedroom door.
“Quinn, wait,” Brittany calls after her, “We can help.”
Quinn pauses, hand resting on the handle.
“What do you mean?” she asks, facing the pair again. Santana is still wiping away the tears from her eyes, shoulders shuddering with the giggles rising up through her body.
“It’s Christmas,” Brittany says excitedly, bouncing up onto her knees, eyes bright. “Magical things happen at Christmas.”
“I think it’ll take more than magic for Quinn to turn Yent…” Quinn narrows her eyes, “Berr…” Quinn places her hands on her hips, “Rachel. Rachel, okay? How long have you liked her anyway?”
“A while,” Quinn says, flopping down onto the bed, her eyes closed. “It’s not like I woke up one day and just decided that I like her. It’s been a gradual thing, I guess.”
“But you torture her…” Santana says, “You don’t like her.”
“She’s Mark,” Brittany says simply. The other girls stare at her in confusion, “Mark!” Brittany picks up the remote and forwards through the movie to the wedding. “She’s Mark and Rachel is Juliet.”
“Right,” Quinn says, flopping back down onto the bed, “So I’m doomed to be the one lusting after her…”
“Whoa, lusting? I do not need that mental image…” Santana interjects, shaking her head in disgust.
“Santana,” Brittany chides gently. “You’re not doomed, Quinn. Rachel and Finn broke up.”
“They just broke up. And what if she doesn’t even like girls? What if she doesn’t like me?”
“You won’t know until you ask,” Brittany says, placing a hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “Come on, we’ll think of something.” Santana rolls her eyes, “Together.” Santana grumbles but nods slightly.
“Well, if she’s Mark and Rachel is Juliet, there’s really only one thing to do,” Santana says, a grin passing over her face. “Not that I care or anything.”
**
Quinn spends five minutes taking deep breaths before she manages to convince herself that getting out of the car will not cause the world to end. Cautiously, she walks up the path, glancing up and down the quiet street. She places Brittany’s CD player on the porch and pushes the Play button before reaching up to ring the doorbell, praying that Rachel answers the door and not one of her fathers.
Footsteps approach and Rachel’s jaw crashes to the ground as she takes in the sight of Quinn on her doorstep. She opens her mouth to speak but Quinn shakes her head, pressing a finger to her lips.
“Quinn, what a-” Quinn cuts her off with a pointed look that causes the brunette to recoil slightly.
Say it’s carol singers.
She turns the pieces of cardboard in her hands towards Rachel.
“But they haven’t asked…” Rachel whispers, afraid to speak any louder. Quinn rolls her eyes.
“Rachel, sweetie, who is it?” a disembodied voice drifts out from within the house. Quinn smiles as Rachel takes a step back and pulls the door closed after telling them that it’s carol singers.
“Quinn, really… what are you doing? It’s Christmas Eve! You should be with your mom or at church or with Santana and Brittany,” Rachel hisses. Quinn huffs and turns the second card around.
With any luck, this time next year, you won’t be dating any of these guys
The next card has photos of Puck, Finn, Jesse and Jacob Ben Israel taped to it. Rachel narrows her eyes and opens her mouth to speak again but Quinn shushes her once more, turning the next card around. The singing continues unabated.
And maybe I’ll be dating someone far less talented/adorable/amazing than you
She returns to the previous sign and makes a face. Rachel feels a giggle rise up from her chest and bites her bottom lip.
(Probably not Jacob)
Rachel laughs now and gestures for Quinn to continue.
But for now let me say,
Without hope or agenda
Just because it’s Christmas -
(And at Christmas you tell the truth)
Quinn can hardly stand to look the brunette in the eye anymore, a furious blush spreading over her cheeks.
To me you are perfect
Rachel beams, a grin splitting across her face.
And my wasted heart will continue falling in love with you
Every time you sing/wear one of those skirts/walk past me in the corridor
Unless you start looking like this
The next sign is covered in photos printed from People of Walmart. Rachel’s hands fly to her face, clamping down on her mouth to stop her from bursting out laughing.
Merry Christmas!
Quinn places all of the signs next to the CD player and gives Rachel a nervous thumbs up before turning away, heart pounding in her chest as she gathers everything up, Christmas carols still playing.
“Crap, crap, crap,” she mutters to herself as she walks back down the path. There are footsteps behind her though and a hand tugging on her arm.
“You don’t like me,” Rachel says bluntly, pulling the cheerleader round to face the house again. “You rarely talk to me other than to tell me that my outfits are hideous or that you want to punch me in the face. You don’t actually like me, Quinn.”
“Right,” Quinn says, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach, “Except… I do. A lot actually.”
“I gathered that,” Rachel says, gesturing to the signs. She opens her mouth to speak but thinks better of it and instead steps closer to the blonde, “If my recollection of the movie is accurate - and it is one of my most-watched movies so my recollection is incredibly accurate - I’m supposed to run after you and kiss you then go back inside to my boyfriend.”
“That’s how it goes, yes,” Quinn mutters, trying to ignore the fact that the brunette is inches from her face.
“Except, I don’t have a boyfriend,” Rachel says thoughtfully, “I have no-one to go back to. Except my dads. I expect they think that I’m out here, berating carol singers for not including Hanukkah songs in their repertoire.”
Quinn smiles in spite of her nerves and Rachel takes the CD player, placing it on the ground before folding her arms across her chest.
“Without hope or agenda…” Rachel repeats the words that Santana had written out on the cardboard an hour earlier while Quinn paced Brittany’s room nervously. “You had no hope that I would fall for this incredibly romantic, if a little cheesy, gesture?”
“Actually, my hope is pretty much plummeting towards sub-basement,” Quinn says, “It’s just…y’know, Christmas and just thought I’d…check.”
Rachel bites her lip again and opens her mouth to speak but appears to change her mind and instead leans forward. Quinn feels her heart begin to race as their lips touch. Time seems to slow down as she feels Rachel move closer to her, arms sliding around her waist. She’s aware of her fingers slackening and the pieces of cardboard tumbling to the path. Her hands cup Rachel’s face and their kiss deepens, cautiously at first then with increasing assuredness. Until this moment, Quinn isn’t aware that a first kiss could feel like this; that it could feel this perfect.
Flakes of snow start to fall from the sky, dancing around the couple as they continue their kiss, settling in Rachel’s hair and on Quinn’s sweater until the pair start to shiver.
“I’m glad you did,” Rachel whispers when they finally pull apart, breath rising in swirls of air between them.
“Me too,” Quinn replies, resting her forehead against the brunette’s, fingers now interlacing with Rachel’s. “I should probably go. Let you get back to your dads.”
“Or you could stay for a while? We’re about to watch a movie,” Rachel says. “They won’t mind.” Quinn glances up at the house, teeth worrying her bottom lip. “I’ll make some hot chocolate to warm you up.”
“Actually, that sounds like heaven,” Quinn smiles and presses her lips to Rachel’s again. “So romantic, cheesy gestures are the way to go then?”
“The only thing that would have sealed the deal for me, other than the signs, would have been a meticulously choreographed song and dance number,” Rachel says as they walk towards the house arm in arm, “Just for future reference.”
“Noted,” Quinn says with a chuckle, pulling the brunette close again for another quick kiss before they go inside. “Merry Christmas, Rachel.”
“Merry Christmas, Quinn.”
SPOILERS: All of Season 1. I’ve ignored the existence of a superfluous Season 2 character and ignored one of the relationships that Team Glee has created, possibly whilst high. Still, spoilers for Season 2 up to and including the Christmas episode.
RATING: G. This is just a giant piece of fluff.
SUMMARY: Just because it’s Christmas (and at Christmas, you tell the truth)
WORDS: 2,252
PAIRINGS: Rachel/Quinn, side Santana/Brittany
NOTES: I usually thank people when I post a fic but I’ve never really dedicated a fic to anyone before. This one is for two people: darchino and justlookingforfootprints. Sorry I didn’t get it finished for Christmas.
NOTES 2: If you haven’t already, watch Love Actually. This fic will probably make more sense if you do.
With Mr Schuester’s house decorated, the members of the glee club make their way outside to head to their own homes to be with their families. Rachel is the first to exit, walking quickly away from the rest of the group towards a car further up the street. Quinn watches with a frown on her face as the brunette climbs into the backseat and the car moves away.
“Are you coming?” Brittany’s voice shakes the blonde from her reverie.
“What?” she asks, spinning around to find the taller cheerleader beaming at her.
“Our Christmas Eve tradition?” Brittany’s face falls slightly. “Did you forget?”
“No, Britt! Of course not!” Quinn says, glancing towards Santana. “You’re okay with me being there, right? I know we haven’t…”
“Whatever,” Santana says, rolling her eyes and pulling Brittany towards her car, “Bring some popcorn!”
Quinn walks to her own car and jumps inside, unable to shake the look of a despondent Rachel Berry from her mind. Not that she thinks about Rachel Berry often or how inverted the brunette’s despondency/happiness ratio has become since she and Finn have officially started dating. Quinn mentally slaps herself and drives towards her house.
She finds a couple of packets of microwave popcorn languishing in the back of a cupboard for Santana and goes to change out of her Cheerios uniform, feeling an enormous amount of relief when she pulls her hair out of its ponytail. She dresses in a pair of jeans and a shirt before glancing at herself in the mirror. She shrugs and reaches for the cardigan she’s been wearing over her uniform all day before pulling on a pair of faded sneakers. With another glance at herself in the mirror, she feels the ever-present tension in her neck and shoulders start to loosen and sighs, shaking her head from side to side before leaving her house and driving to Brittany’s.
**
Brittany has already picked the movie by the time Quinn arrives and is lying next to Santana on the bed. The taller blonde insists that Quinn squeezes on next to them but Quinn declines, sitting down on the floor at the foot of the bed, legs curled beneath her.
The movie is one of their favourites and this is the third Christmas Eve in a row that they’re watching Hugh Grant dance through 10 Downing Street, Keira Knightley use banoffee pie as a method of bribery and probably the only nativity play that includes lobsters and an octopus.
“Eight is a lot of legs, David,” Brittany intones, mimicking the accent of the actress on the screen. Quinn glances over her shoulder to see Santana grinning at the other girl, their faces inching together. Quinn feels a blush spread up over her cheeks and turns her attention back to the television, focusing on the film and trying to ignore the sounds of her friends giggling and exchanging quick kisses.
“Do you mind?” Quinn asks at last when the giggling turns into laughter and the kissing turns into a tickle fight.
“Not really,” Santana says. “It’s not like you don’t know what happens.”
“I’d rather watch the movie than listen to you two do… whatever,” Quinn says, throwing a glance over her shoulder again. “Can’t you wait until I’ve gone?”
“Sorry, Quinn,” Brittany says, pushing Santana’s hands away.
“Don’t apologise, it’s not our fault she’s got a gigantic stick shoved up her ass,” Santana states, rolling back onto her side of the bed, fixing the girl on the floor with a look.
“I don’t have a gigantic stick shoved anywhere,” Quinn retorts.
“Maybe that’s the whole problem. It’s been a while, right?” Santana raises an eyebrow and Quinn blushes furiously.
“Shut it, Santana.”
“Guys, please,” Brittany interjects, placing a hand on her girlfriend’s arm, “Watch the movie.”
Santana narrows her eyes at Quinn then flicks her gaze back to the television. Quinn opens her mouth to apologise but frowns instead and turns back to the movie too as the Christmas concert begins and the great Mrs Jean Anderson bogarts the musical number.
They watch the rest of the movie in silence and when it ends, instead of feeling full of Christmas cheer and hope, Quinn feels empty. When she turns to look at her friends, seeing their hands intertwined, their fingers interlaced on the bed, she feels worse.
“What?” Santana asks, increasing her grip on Brittany’s hand. “I seriously never realised you were this much of a prude, Fabray.”
“That’s not it,” Quinn shakes her head quickly. “You and Brittany, whatever it is you guys are doing, I’m fine with it. Honestly.”
“Since when?” Santana asks, a little incredulously.
“Since she started crushing on Rachel,” Brittany says, smiling at the pair in turn. Quinn turns white and Santana roars with laughter.
“Quinn and Streisand? Streisand and Quinn? Oh god,” Santana clutches her stomach, rolling away from Brittany and teetering on the edge of the bed. The other two stare at Santana as she continues to gasp for air. “It’s not true, is it?”
Quinn remains silent and Santana’s jaw drops.
“Oh my god.”
“It’s not… I’m not… she’s…” Quinn closes her eyes, “It doesn’t matter. I’m going.” She turns and walks towards the bedroom door.
“Quinn, wait,” Brittany calls after her, “We can help.”
Quinn pauses, hand resting on the handle.
“What do you mean?” she asks, facing the pair again. Santana is still wiping away the tears from her eyes, shoulders shuddering with the giggles rising up through her body.
“It’s Christmas,” Brittany says excitedly, bouncing up onto her knees, eyes bright. “Magical things happen at Christmas.”
“I think it’ll take more than magic for Quinn to turn Yent…” Quinn narrows her eyes, “Berr…” Quinn places her hands on her hips, “Rachel. Rachel, okay? How long have you liked her anyway?”
“A while,” Quinn says, flopping down onto the bed, her eyes closed. “It’s not like I woke up one day and just decided that I like her. It’s been a gradual thing, I guess.”
“But you torture her…” Santana says, “You don’t like her.”
“She’s Mark,” Brittany says simply. The other girls stare at her in confusion, “Mark!” Brittany picks up the remote and forwards through the movie to the wedding. “She’s Mark and Rachel is Juliet.”
“Right,” Quinn says, flopping back down onto the bed, “So I’m doomed to be the one lusting after her…”
“Whoa, lusting? I do not need that mental image…” Santana interjects, shaking her head in disgust.
“Santana,” Brittany chides gently. “You’re not doomed, Quinn. Rachel and Finn broke up.”
“They just broke up. And what if she doesn’t even like girls? What if she doesn’t like me?”
“You won’t know until you ask,” Brittany says, placing a hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “Come on, we’ll think of something.” Santana rolls her eyes, “Together.” Santana grumbles but nods slightly.
“Well, if she’s Mark and Rachel is Juliet, there’s really only one thing to do,” Santana says, a grin passing over her face. “Not that I care or anything.”
**
Quinn spends five minutes taking deep breaths before she manages to convince herself that getting out of the car will not cause the world to end. Cautiously, she walks up the path, glancing up and down the quiet street. She places Brittany’s CD player on the porch and pushes the Play button before reaching up to ring the doorbell, praying that Rachel answers the door and not one of her fathers.
Footsteps approach and Rachel’s jaw crashes to the ground as she takes in the sight of Quinn on her doorstep. She opens her mouth to speak but Quinn shakes her head, pressing a finger to her lips.
“Quinn, what a-” Quinn cuts her off with a pointed look that causes the brunette to recoil slightly.
Say it’s carol singers.
She turns the pieces of cardboard in her hands towards Rachel.
“But they haven’t asked…” Rachel whispers, afraid to speak any louder. Quinn rolls her eyes.
“Rachel, sweetie, who is it?” a disembodied voice drifts out from within the house. Quinn smiles as Rachel takes a step back and pulls the door closed after telling them that it’s carol singers.
“Quinn, really… what are you doing? It’s Christmas Eve! You should be with your mom or at church or with Santana and Brittany,” Rachel hisses. Quinn huffs and turns the second card around.
With any luck, this time next year, you won’t be dating any of these guys
The next card has photos of Puck, Finn, Jesse and Jacob Ben Israel taped to it. Rachel narrows her eyes and opens her mouth to speak again but Quinn shushes her once more, turning the next card around. The singing continues unabated.
And maybe I’ll be dating someone far less talented/adorable/amazing than you
She returns to the previous sign and makes a face. Rachel feels a giggle rise up from her chest and bites her bottom lip.
(Probably not Jacob)
Rachel laughs now and gestures for Quinn to continue.
But for now let me say,
Without hope or agenda
Just because it’s Christmas -
(And at Christmas you tell the truth)
Quinn can hardly stand to look the brunette in the eye anymore, a furious blush spreading over her cheeks.
To me you are perfect
Rachel beams, a grin splitting across her face.
And my wasted heart will continue falling in love with you
Every time you sing/wear one of those skirts/walk past me in the corridor
Unless you start looking like this
The next sign is covered in photos printed from People of Walmart. Rachel’s hands fly to her face, clamping down on her mouth to stop her from bursting out laughing.
Merry Christmas!
Quinn places all of the signs next to the CD player and gives Rachel a nervous thumbs up before turning away, heart pounding in her chest as she gathers everything up, Christmas carols still playing.
“Crap, crap, crap,” she mutters to herself as she walks back down the path. There are footsteps behind her though and a hand tugging on her arm.
“You don’t like me,” Rachel says bluntly, pulling the cheerleader round to face the house again. “You rarely talk to me other than to tell me that my outfits are hideous or that you want to punch me in the face. You don’t actually like me, Quinn.”
“Right,” Quinn says, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach, “Except… I do. A lot actually.”
“I gathered that,” Rachel says, gesturing to the signs. She opens her mouth to speak but thinks better of it and instead steps closer to the blonde, “If my recollection of the movie is accurate - and it is one of my most-watched movies so my recollection is incredibly accurate - I’m supposed to run after you and kiss you then go back inside to my boyfriend.”
“That’s how it goes, yes,” Quinn mutters, trying to ignore the fact that the brunette is inches from her face.
“Except, I don’t have a boyfriend,” Rachel says thoughtfully, “I have no-one to go back to. Except my dads. I expect they think that I’m out here, berating carol singers for not including Hanukkah songs in their repertoire.”
Quinn smiles in spite of her nerves and Rachel takes the CD player, placing it on the ground before folding her arms across her chest.
“Without hope or agenda…” Rachel repeats the words that Santana had written out on the cardboard an hour earlier while Quinn paced Brittany’s room nervously. “You had no hope that I would fall for this incredibly romantic, if a little cheesy, gesture?”
“Actually, my hope is pretty much plummeting towards sub-basement,” Quinn says, “It’s just…y’know, Christmas and just thought I’d…check.”
Rachel bites her lip again and opens her mouth to speak but appears to change her mind and instead leans forward. Quinn feels her heart begin to race as their lips touch. Time seems to slow down as she feels Rachel move closer to her, arms sliding around her waist. She’s aware of her fingers slackening and the pieces of cardboard tumbling to the path. Her hands cup Rachel’s face and their kiss deepens, cautiously at first then with increasing assuredness. Until this moment, Quinn isn’t aware that a first kiss could feel like this; that it could feel this perfect.
Flakes of snow start to fall from the sky, dancing around the couple as they continue their kiss, settling in Rachel’s hair and on Quinn’s sweater until the pair start to shiver.
“I’m glad you did,” Rachel whispers when they finally pull apart, breath rising in swirls of air between them.
“Me too,” Quinn replies, resting her forehead against the brunette’s, fingers now interlacing with Rachel’s. “I should probably go. Let you get back to your dads.”
“Or you could stay for a while? We’re about to watch a movie,” Rachel says. “They won’t mind.” Quinn glances up at the house, teeth worrying her bottom lip. “I’ll make some hot chocolate to warm you up.”
“Actually, that sounds like heaven,” Quinn smiles and presses her lips to Rachel’s again. “So romantic, cheesy gestures are the way to go then?”
“The only thing that would have sealed the deal for me, other than the signs, would have been a meticulously choreographed song and dance number,” Rachel says as they walk towards the house arm in arm, “Just for future reference.”
“Noted,” Quinn says with a chuckle, pulling the brunette close again for another quick kiss before they go inside. “Merry Christmas, Rachel.”
“Merry Christmas, Quinn.”