A/N: Dedicated to the gleeks who toke and prompted by pickupthepencil. HAPPY EARLY 420!
It's late March and the weather is changing in Ohio. Spring is in full bloom. A shock of messy pink hair emerges from under a duvet somewhere in the suburbs. Quinn Fabray isn't the type to be up with the sun but today is a special occasion. The Skanks have plans today.
Quinn stretches the stiffness out of her sleepy limbs then removes the clothes she passed out last night in, throws them somewhere near a laundry basket, and then gets ready to go out. The best thing about not giving a fuck, Quinn has realized, is dropping out of the social hierarchy of WMHS. But somethings never change, and that's just fine with Brittany and Santana.
Brittany sees Quinn's violently pink hair from the parking lot. As Santana puts her car into park, Brittany watches Quinn saunter around the main entrance with a cigarette between her fingers, surrounded by a group of tough looking girls. Santana follows Brittany's contemplative stare and smiles a slyly.
"I wonder if Quinn's done any baking lately?" Santana wonders aloud as Brittany grabs their bags from the trunk.
"Like cupcakes?"
"No like pot brownies." A look of revelation lights up Brittany's face as Santana clicks the lock button on her car and leads the way towards the Skanks.
"Hey, Quinn," Santana starts in a cutting undertone that sees some of the Skanks off to first period.
"Oh. Hey, Santana. And Brittany. Lovely day isn't it..." she trails off seeming quiet preoccupied.
"Quinn," Brittany starts, "what's in the tote bag? It smells good." Quinn seems to snap back to reality at the mention of the bag, and offers them both a brownie. Santana's is gone in seconds, while Brittany munches slowly noticing Quinn's ripped black clothes and heavy makeup.
"You look weird, Quinn."
"And you two look like you're on your way to a nice Friday." With a smirk and the sound of boot soles on concrete, Quinn heads to meet with the Skanks under the bleachers.
Brittany and Santana spend most of the morning giggling inappropriately and sexting each other from different classrooms. Between class periods they meet up in a bathroom in a deserted corridor.
Santana is drawing a complicated looking tag on a bathroom stall with a marker when Brittany breezes through the bathroom door.
"As Senior Class President, it's my duty to tell you you spelled your name wrong, San." This earns her a wide grin from Santana, who quickly puts the cap back on her marker and throws it near her bag. There's no hesitation today. Santana finds herself lifted onto the porcelain counter top, and Brittany's eyes bore into hers for a few long seconds before Santana runs a hand across Brittany's goofy smiling face, leans up and kisses her softly.
"Happy 420, Britt."
Santana feels Brittany's hands grip her hips tighter as she settles between her thighs. Santana teases her for as long as she can before she finds the back of her head against the mirror and Brittany's breath on her open mouth. The kissing gets heated quickly yet Brittany keeps her hands around her girlfriend's hips, lazy smile still there.
Just as Santana is going for the zipper on Brittany's Cheerios skirt, the door swings open.
"For fucks sake, Quinn, we're busy," Santana says rolling her eyes hard. Brittany doesn't seem to have noticed the addition of a spectator to their midst, and she continues to stare hungrily at the girl wrapped around her. Similarly Quinn ignores Santana's comment, locks the door, opens a window, hops onto the ledge, and proceeds to light up a joint. Santana finds it between her lips the next moment and soon she's forgotten Quinn is even there.
Santana shows off some smoke tricks to Brittany's great amusement, but the heat returns to Santana's core as Brittany looks at her through hooded eyes and passes the joint back to Quinn who's watching with rapt attention. Santana feels fingertips trail down her bare thighs, then slowly slide back up towards her underwear. Brittany's kiss tastes like the cherry flavored papers and her fingers feel like heaven through the thin fabric.
"Take them off," Santana huffs and without ceremony Brittany's on her knees helping Santana out of her panties. Santana doesn't wait to be pulled to the edge of the counter. She' got a hand on Brittany's shoulder to ground herself and another to brush the hair out of Brittany's eyes. Her girlfriend's mouth meets her clit like a distant rumble of thunder.
Santana opens her eyes long enough to see Brittany stare up as she licks a circle around Santana's wetness then open mouth kiss her way up to the place Santana's guiding her. A few minutes of rhythmic motions and Santana tenses, pulls Brittany in tighter, then feels Brittany's tongue through a content smile.
It's only then that Santana recognizes Quinn is a couple of feet away looking incredibly pleased with herself and lighting up a cigarette.
"You can't break up the unholy trinity," Quinn mumbles through an exhale of smoke.