Like many things at high school, it all started with a homophobic remark.
"In the light of Ms. Sylvester's remarks on gay adoption and how people grow up to be hoarders, this week we'll all be performing songs about acceptance of alternative sexualities," Mr. Schuester announced.
There was a chorus of groans from everyone except for Rachel, who always clapped.
"I know it's gimmicky, kids, but it will probably stop GLAAD from making those threatening phone calls. And come on, aren't we all tired of waiting outside the school while the bomb-sniffing dogs walk the grounds?"
"I like dogs," Brittany said.
"I like your attitude," Schuester said. "Finn, Puck, Kurt, Artie, Matt, Mike—"
"Someone knows my name?" Mike exclaimed.
"You'll be doing a song on homosexuality. Rachel, Quinn, Brittany, Santana, you'll be lesbians."
Quinn buried her head in her hands and would only speak in glum sentence fragments.
"What about us?" Mercedes asked, pointing at herself and Tina.
"Transgendered and asexual," Schuester said.
"Hell to the nah!"
"It's that or furries."
"Hell to the yes!"
And so the girls, most of them at any rate, ended up nervously lounging together in the janitor's closet during free period. Since the janitor had gotten fired over Twitter account, What I've Seen Go Into The School Lunch, the vacated closet was the latest hang-out and the Cheerios were eager to exploit it as much as possible before some other clique muscled in. Rachel had been dragged along because Quinn thought it was cruel to let her go to lunch alone (she'd been following the janitor's tweets). Brittany and Santana had objected, but been outvoted when Brittany voted for both sides. She didn't want anyone to feel bad she hadn't voted for them.
"Have we decided what we're going to sing yet?" Brittany asked, about to open her chocolate pudding cup. She didn't want to have to set it down to sing and then forget where it was. Not since it'd happened with her baby brother.
"No, you can eat your pudding," Santana said.
Quinn, who was staring at the wall, either finally saw what she was looking for or got bored. "Let's just sing that stupid girls-kissing song. Katy Perry used to be a good influence, and it will get GLAAD off our backs. I'm tired of being called a breeder."
"It was just one time," Rachel said, to Quinn's glare. "What? I'm agreeing with you."
"Anyone have any reservations about 'I Kissed A Girl'?" Quinn asked, still glaring at Rachel, who fixed her hair in response.
"I'm in," Santana said.
"I don't want to sing anything in reverse," Brittany said.
The next fifteen minutes flew by. The Cheerios came up with simple yet addictive choreography to go off the song's beat and pep, while Rachel thought about costumes. ("All of us… cowgirls…") But on the second run-through, it turned out there was something missing.
"We need something for the bridge," Quinn said, chin in hand, "when the song slows down and starts talking about how magical girls are," she added for Brittany's benefit.
"Yeah, so magical she has a boyfriend," Santana chuffed. She had strong, unvoiced opinions on Katy Perry's lesploitation.
Quinn turned on her heel. "Rachel? Anything?"
"I could do a solo!"
"That's your answer to everything."
"No it's not."
Last week, Civics class…
"Now, does anyone have any ideas how to fix the healthcare crisis?" the teacher asked.
Rachel's hand shot up.
"She is really good at solos," Brittany said.
"Thank you, Brit."
"Maybe two of us could kiss while other two sing! And you're welcome."
"That's gross," Quinn said. "And everyone will think we're lesbians. Who on Earth would want that?"
"I think it's a great idea!" Rachel said, clasping her hands together as if she were trying to wring all the earnestness out of them. "Do you know how much men's magazines will pay for an interview where a female celebrity hints at bisexuality? Megan Fox kissed three women and got three movie deals, and she can't break glass with a high note!"
"I thought that was an accident," Santana said.
"The window was an accident. I've been honing my powers since then…"
"We'd look really good kissing," Brittany said to Santana. "Like in those videos we made."
"No," Quinn put her foot down. "Britt, San, you do realize this is how rumors get started? And rumors are much easier to get rid of if they're not true."
"So, what, we should kiss?" Rachel asked. "I mean, we do have chemistry, but… what about my solo?"
"We do not have chemistry. But if we spend the entire song dueting, then we should give them a chance to shine. Although I'm not convinced our anatomy should touch, much less our mouths."
"That is where we eat," Brittany remarked.
"You think the boys won't make out for cheap bragging rights?" Rachel argued.
Quinn sighed in defeat. "I know they will. Finn and Puck once got to third base because Santana said she'd show them her tits."
Everyone stared at Santana.
"What, it's not like I really did show them anything. And shouldn't we be focusing on stopping GLAAD from doing whatever they're going to do with all that fertilizer they bought upstate?"
"Fine," Quinn said. "If it'll save the school, I'll make out with Rachel Berry. Wait… let me think about a few of the people I like who go to this school… okay, yeah. Santana, give her a breath mint."
"I do not need a breath—" Rachel started, before Santana came up behind her and slipped a Tic-Tac into her mouth.
"Suck on that for a while," Quinn told her smugly.
Brittany leaned over to Santana. "She stole your big line from the videos," she whispered.
They ran through it again. It seemed to Rachel like there was an awful lot of touching in the choreography. There was mock-slapping and stroking and handholding. The stroking seemed a little much. But they sounded good. Then they were on the last chorus before the slowdown and Quinn was looking at her. Staring, really, which was rude, and usually Quinn only looked at her for a few seconds before making a face and turning away… and then asking if anyone was missing a fugger, which wasn't even a real word.
"I kissed a girl and I liked it," Quinn sang, lowering her head like a bull about to charge.
"I liked it," Rachel sang-plied, wishing she had time for a breathing exercise.
It wasn't as awkward as she thought it would be. Quinn just stepped in and kissed her. It was kinda nice, actually. She could tune out everything else for the soft pleasure, letting it all became a vaguely supportive back-up. The Cheerios continuing at their slower tempo, Quinn's arms wrapping over her shoulders, the little noises she was making somewhere around her sternum… none of it seemed as important as Quinn's tongue in her mouth.
"Hey, guys?" Santana asked. They looked over at her, still hanging off each other, their faces still in heated proximity. "Do you wanna sing the next verse or do you want to get to second base?"
Rachel really wanted to check her lip gloss.
Quinn pushed the other girl away. "This isn't working. Santana, you kiss the freak-job."
"Hey!" Brittany exclaimed.
"She was talking about me," Rachel said.
"Oh, okay."
They went through it again. Quinn was acting really weird, in Rachel's opinion. She shied away from everyone during the touchy moves, even the other Cheerios, and they had always been cuddly. Rachel remembered how last summer she'd seen them sharing the shade in a puddle of spandex and skirts, all listening to the same iPod.
Now that iPod was hooked into Santana's boombox and playing the instrumental version of 'I Kissed A Girl', since Quinn's parents didn't approve of her having the ordinary version on her playlist. They hit the chorus again, Santana eyeing Rachel like the diva might eat garlic at the last minute or something, then Santana crashed down on her like a tidal wave with lips.
Rachel might've actually squeaked as their bodies pressed together so snugly they could've been in a wrestling hold, Santana grabbing her by the waist and not letting her go. And the kiss itself was so fierce and demanding that Rachel almost wanted to fight against it, but all she could do was moan into Santana's mouth as the cheerleader slipped her hands down to grab Rachel's ass, now pulling them together so tightly that they were actually rubbing against each other…
"Hey!" Brittany exclaimed, and this time Quinn joined her.
Santana pulled away so fast that Rachel was left tonguing the air. Her hands insouciantly stayed on Rachel's ass. "What? We're trying to outdo the boys, right? And there's no way this won't get a standing ovation… at least from the male half of the audience."
"That doesn't mean you have to give her a friggin' O, Santana! For Josef Fuchs' sake, Brittany, you do it!
"Oh, she was talking about penises," Brittany said.
They ran it again. Was it just Rachel's imagination, or was the music louder now, less like a pop song than voodoo drums? Or something? They ran through the chorus (and now Quinn and Santana seemed to perform in truly eerie aural harmony, like those kids in The Shining, but with GOGA) and Brittany came up to Rachel, who managed to do something like both a wince and a wink, then she kissed Rachel sweetly on the forehead and said "You make me so proud, pumpkin."
This was finally enough for Quinn to turn off the music. "Brittany, you're supposed to actually kiss her, not like her mom does it."
"Yeah, like we do it," Santana said. She noticed the others, even Brittany, staring at her. "When we're trying to impress boys, I mean."
"Or when we're alone in the girls' locker room?"
"Yes," Santana sighed. "Or then."
"From the top," Quinn said, and turned the music back on. This time it definitely seemed louder, and Quinn and Santana's coy touches seemed really warm, like they'd lain out in the sun for a while. Even Brittany felt hot as playground equipment on a bright day. Rachel had always envied them that, that they could lay out on the school's roof in bikinis and no one dared say anything about it while they were tanning. If Rachel had tried that, someone would've invented a rainmaker.
It felt so wrong, it felt so right
Don't mean I'm in love tonight
I kissed a girl and I liked it
I liked it
Quinn and Santana started in on the bridge. At first Rachel thought Brittany had missed her cue, then the blonde moved in and gave Rachel a sweet, lingering kiss. It was over before the others could do even one verse. Rachel was about to complain when Brittany kissed her again, this time on the neck. It felt nice. Brittany kept sinking lower, and her lips pecked at Rachel's breasts. It felt nicer. Rachel's nipples stiffened against her bra. Then Brittany's knees hit the ground and she lifted Rachel's blouse up to kiss her way across Rachel's midsection.
Rachel looked up from the top of Brittany's head to see Quinn and Santana staring at her. They didn't look outraged or disgusted or any of the emotions Rachel was used to. Santana looked intrigued and Quinn was swallowing a lot.
"Aren't you going to stop her?" Rachel asked. It came out as something of a squeal.
"Aren't you?" Quinn replied, just as Brittany ducked her head under Rachel's skirt.
"I… I…" Rachel went cross-eyed and dropped down into a sprawling heap in front of Brittany. "I think we should take a break."
Brittany wiped her mouth off. The song still hadn't finished.
Quinn glanced at Santana, impressed.
Santana recognized the look in Quinn's eyes with the quasi-telepathy that came with throwing and being thrown several feet in the air and then expecting to be caught. "Maybe we should practice the kissing more. To get used to the idea."
"And see who would make the most aesthetically pleasing pair," Quinn nodded.
Rachel sat up. She looked from Brittany to Quinn to Santana. "Maxim is never going to believe this."
The boys ended up beating their performance with a rendition of "What What (In the Butt)."
Next Monday, Sue Sylvester found that her Jeep Cherokee had been completely filled with manure.