It was an uncomfortably ticklish sensation on the bottom of her foot that awakened her. Quinn twitched, her face screwing up slightly with her discomfort, and shifted the offending foot, but the sensation persisted, more strongly than before. Giving a low murmur of discontent, she squinted her eyes more tightly shut, half rolling over and attempting to drag the sheet of the bed more firmly around her body. But the sensation on her foot was now creeping up her ankle, then making its way up her shin, and the suspicious sound of giggling accompanying it was dragging her much closer to awareness.
Her frown now an outright glower, Quinn opened her eyes, sitting up in the bed and coming face to face with the grinning culprit of her discomfort. Santana Lopez's dimples were in full display with her self-satisfied amusement as she beamed up at Quinn, her index finger still trailing up her leg. Behind her, Brittany Pierce kept a casual but affectionate hand on her shoulder, stroking lightly and somewhat absently as though to congratulate her on a prank well played.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Santana sing-songed, dark eyes sparkling mischeviously at her own teasing. "Or would another descriptor be appropriate about now?"
"Very funny, Santana," Quinn rolled her eyes, even as she ran a hand through her somewhat tangled hair. "Like you don't wake up with morning breath and eye boogers after your nights of dragon snores."
It had become an annual tradition over the past few years for the three of them to sleep over at Brittany's house on December 23, so they could wake up together on Christmas Eve. Brittany's mother would make them a huge breakfast and they would go ice skating or just play in the snow, if that was what Brittany pushed for hard enough, before exchanging gifts for each other and returning to their own families for Christmas Eve. It had become a tradition that was strangely sentimental for Quinn, due to the strained quiet of her own family's Christmas, and she generally looked forward to it and enjoyed the chance to let off some steam and just be able to be a silly kid with her best friends.
But she was beginning to rethink the sentimentality of it, if her friends were going to gang up against her and tease her out of her much-loved sleep.
"I really like how she looks, San," Brittany said in an apparently serious tone, though with Brittany, it was difficult to tell when she was indeed serious and when she was just being a troll. "It's awesome. It suits her complexion and it's very Christmasy."
"Definitely an improvement," Santana agreed, snickering, as Quinn looked at them suspiciously, unamused.
"Ha ha, I'm scary without makeup and my nose looks like Rudolph, or whatever it is you're trying to imply. Can you give me two seconds to wake up before you start the bitch routine?"
She rubbed a hand over her face, intending to wake herself up, but her hand froze when it came into contact with something quite unexpected. Something soft and scented, something that stuck to her hand and seemed to smear across her face. As Quinn slowly brought her hand in front of her eyes, seeing the white smears streaked across it that looked suspiciously like shaving cream in appearance, Brittany made a noise of disappointment in her throat, pouting.
"Aw, she ruined it, Sanny. And she looked so awesome with her Santa beard."
"You drew a beard of shaving cream on my face while I was sleeping?" Quinn asked in disbelief, her voice rising slightly, even as Santana burst out laughing, her voice ringing out gleefully as she reached out and smeared more of the substance over the blonde's lips and nose.
"I wanted to give you a pillow for the jelly belly, but Britt said you probably had enough of that when you were pregnant…Merry Christmas Eve, Q! Ha ha ha and ho ho ho, bitch!"
She jumped back and headed out the bedroom door before Quinn would have a chance to swing out at her, knowing full well by now the power behind the blonde's slaps. Brittany followed close behind, intent on staying close to her girlfriend, and as Quinn got to her feet, furtively scrubbing the shaving cream off as much as she could without the benefit of a mirror, she resolved vengeance to herself. If she was Santa, Santana was about to be something from the Island of Misfit Toys.