A/N: Hi my name is Sara and apparently I'm writing Faberry fic. Spoilers for the Prom episode. And Santana being a goofball. That's all I can say.

Read, review, but I hope you enjoy!

It wasn't that Quinn didn't want her mother to drive her to school. It's just that, well, Santana's mother had a minivan and Santana didn't treat her as if she was going to break in half in the next seven seconds. Mrs. Fabray had a little bit of a problem with her baby driving with someone else, but Quinn figured her mother could get over it because, hell, Quinn was eighteen and so damned bored of being carted around by her mom.

"Heading to school, Mom!" called Quinn as Santana pushed the door open. It caught on Quinn's front wheel, sending her reeling a bit.

"Oh, whoops, sorry about that, scooter," grinned Santana. "I made us a new playlist for these lovely adventures."

"I swear to god, Santana," growled Quinn as she closed the final sipper on her backpack, "if I hear you playing 'Ridin' Dirty' one more time…"

Santana laughed. "Nah, not that."

After some fussing around with the back seats of the van and some of Mrs. Fabray's absolute terror over her daughter driving in a car with the girl who once deliberately crashed her bike into a rock, just to see if she could get enough air to dive into the swimming pool, Quinn situated herself properly in the seat.

Santana began to hum something as Quinn buckled herself in.

"Lopez, what are you doing?" Quinn asked with a grin. "You're not a hummer."

"Says who?"

"Says the laws of the universe. You don't hum!"

Santana shot a grin over to Quinn. "I guess I just want to get my country on."

That worried Quinn. "What do you…?"

Santana pressed play on the radio, launching into "Love Gets Me Every Time," singing loudly. However, somewhere in the middle of the first verse, Santana seemed to change a lyric. "Stayin' single was the plan, didn't need a steady man, I had it covered, til I discovered, that love gets me every time, Rachel changed my mind."

Quinn blinked, sure she heard Santana wrong. "Did you just?"

Santana glanced over to her. "Hmm? What?"

Quinn shook her head to clear it. "Sorry I…Um, I must have been hearing things." Sure, Rachel had been on her mind for a while, because, um, of the wedding and everything, of course, but enough to just throw her name into a song? That was odd.

Santana continued singing. "Gone and done her, guess I fell in love, must have been the way she walks, or that annoying hobbit voice, I guess I, gol darn gone and done a hobbit."

"Excuse me?"

Santana may have had both eyes focused on the road, but the broad grin across her face was clear from across the county. "Don't try and lie. Great gaydar, remember?"

"Excuse me?"

"Hey, no judgment. I don't get what you see in the love child of the Wicked Witch of the West and a munchkin, but you're excused."

"Santana, what are you talking about?"

"Oh, please, don't act like you weren't asking Rachel to jump on your lap and tell you that she was a very naughty girl this year and Mrs. Claus has to punish her."

"What?"

Santana smirked. "When she was apologizing for your accident the other day in the library."

Quinn, at this point, could not speak. Instead, she made some ridiculous stuttering sounds that Santana blatantly ignored. "I mean, really," Santana continued, "you told her to come over to you after she was apologizing and saying how sorry she was, and all you asked for was a hug. I would have expected at least allowing her to offer up a sympathy grope that, let's face it, you probably wouldn't have rejected."

"Santana!"

The other girl didn't do anything but grin broader. She continued singing along to a very Rachel-themed rendition of the song until the playlist changed.

"Oh!" Santana exclaimed. "This is such a good one."

"Oh, please no," sighed Quinn. There was no way she could tolerate hearing Santana's Rachel-themed – was that the Click Five?

"In the middle of Glee Club, that's when you caught my eye."

"Santana, oh my god."

"Hey, girl, I wanna grab your boob, hey girl, I wanna sing duets with you, hey girl, you've got a great big nose, hey girl, hey girl, I wanna suck your –"

"Okay, that's a completely child appropriate song that you are perverting. You're ruining fifth and sixth grade for me," Quinn sighed. "More than they already were that is."

"Oh look at that, we're at school!" exclaimed Santana. "Be extra nice and I won't sing them in Glee today."

Quinn kept intentionally rolling her wheelchair over Santana's feet walking into the school.

"Oh, look, it's the sweet, round Berry whose juices you want to –"

"Shut. Your. Mouth."

"Rachy, Rachy, tell me you love me, Rachy, Rachy are you feeling me now, Rachy, Rachy, I think it's bout time to get down, get down!"

"That's not even creative," said Quinn, beginning to laugh. "Granted, I have no idea how you choose these songs. The Summer Set? Really?"

Santana shrugged. "I gots to get my crappy pop punk on. It's good for doing homework."

Quinn laughed, but that stopped at Santana's next creative line.

"And if it's worth your time, I've got ten digits I want you to suck –"

"Whose idea was it to teach you to speak?"

Santana shrugged. "I got it from my Momma."

"You're incorrigible."

"Clever, you mean. You were knocking my lyric choices, I had to step up my game."

"With finger sucking?"

Santana's leer nearly scared Quinn out of her sundress. "Who said anything about fingers?"

Quinn would testify that the hysterical laughter was due to pure nerves and not due to the fact that she had a mental image of Rachel Berry licking whipped cream off of her fingers. To further solidify this, Quinn clenched her fingers into fists. Nope, no way was she going to think about that.

Or whipped cream other places on Rachel. Suddenly, a shockingly vivid image of Rachel straddling her and tracing her lips with her fingertip flashed in Quinn's mind and she found herself overwhelmingly distracted for god knows how long.

"Earth to Quinn." Quinn turned her head to the driver's seat, only to realize two things: one, that Santana was no longer sitting there and, two, the car had stopped. Apparently Santana had moved around to the other side of the car and was now glaring at Quinn, trying to get her out of the car. "Look, I know your fantasies of Rachel getting down and dirty with that big mouth of hers are probably pretty elaborate given your extensive vocabulary and shit but I've got to meet up with my parents." Santana wrinkled her nose. "My grandmother is coming over for dinner and we're going to try and talk things through."

Quinn, finally broken out of the fantasy, smiled sympathetically, and even decided not to comment on the outrageous comment about Rachel's mouth that she so was not thinking about – right then. "It's going to work out, Santana," murmured Quinn as her friend settled her into the chair. "I know it will. You're still the Santana we love – you've never been any different."

Santana, in a moment that Quinn will file into the "Santana is having feelings that scare her" folder in her head, leaned down and pressed her lips lightly to Quinn's forehead. "Thanks, Q," she whispered.

Quinn decided not to mention the fact that she could tell Santana was crying, and wrapped her arms behind her to try and hold her friend. After a soft sniffle, Santana laughed. "I'd hop into your lap for a better angle but I don't want Berry to get mad at me for stealing her girl."

"I am not her girl!" Quinn exclaimed. However the idea had suddenly planted itself in her mind and she was kind of okay with getting that for a pet name.

Santana pulled her into another hug. "Not yet," she whispered, "now let's get you in the house before you jizz in your pretty little sundress over Berry."

"I'm going to kill you."

Santana shrugged as she pushed open the door. "Lies." She leaned in and whispered, "just don't think about how she'd look wearing your pajamas. Or, you know. Less."

Quinn rolled backward into the couch when Santana let go of her chair as that particular image rendered her deaf, dumb and blind to everything else.

"Okay, I've got a really good song for you, are ya ready?" Santana was positively bouncing as she opened the door to get Quinn. "Legless the Elf, you're gonna love this."

"Oh, god, you couldn't get any less PC," laughed Quinn.

Santana shrugged as she helped Quinn into the passenger's seat and folded the wheelchair. "PC isn't my game."

Once the car was started, Santana pressed play on her iPod.

It was Hannah Montana.

Quinn just stared at her friend in horror

"No, wait, wait, it gets good just…" Santana nodded her head to the music, then began to belt "One in a Million" with slightly altered lyrics. "All this time I was looking for a dude, tryna make things work, I wasn't straight enough, til I thought I'm through, said I'm gay, and stumbled into the arms of a hobbit."

Quinn burst into laughter. "Okay, that one was good. You managed to make Hannah Montana lyrics even worse."

"Also I notice you didn't say anything about the gay."

Quinn didn't need to look in the mirror to know her face was bright red. "Nuhgay," she muttered.

"Huh?"

Quinn fidgeted in the seat, something that she was sort of proud of, seeing as it wasn't something she had been able to do a few months before. "Not gay."

"What, you're bi, or something? A number one on the Kinsey scale?"

Quinn shrugged. "I loved Sam. I really did. And Finn I liked – but not…" Quinn took a deep breath, admitting to both herself and another person something she had hidden for countless reasons for countless moments. "Not the way I felt about Sam. And not the way I feel about…About…"

Santana smiled. "About Rachel?"

Quinn nodded, thankful that someone else could say it for her. "Yes."

"So bi?"

Quinn shrugged. "Perhaps I'm just big mouth-sexual."

Santana tried to keep a straight face, then burst into laughter. "Okay, okay, Quinn, that's…Look, I'm not gonna even say what that sounds like, but…I can see that."

Quinn glanced down at her hands, which were shaking a little bit, and let out a little nervous laugh. "Thank you," she whispered. "I…I've never told anyone about this."

"No one?"

Quinn began to speak then stopped. "Technically, no. Kurt and Blaine…Well, after Coach gave me back my uniform, they spotted me. And then I talked to Rachel…Went to tell her I would be there at the wedding for her…And when she – when Rachel – left my bedside and Blaine and Kurt took their turn, I opened my eyes. And they…Blaine asked if I had been awake when the three of them had been talking about me." Quinn shrugged.

"And you had been awake to see if Rachel had said anything about you."

Quinn sheepishly nodded. "It worked. Kurt and Blaine exchanged a glance and told me, apparently, that Rachel had been working on a massive card that everyone was going to sign. She'd been losing sleep…Over me."

Santana grinned. "Glad the Gay King of Narnia and the male hobbit over there were helpful in some respect."

Quinn shrugged. "They didn't ask me to confirm anything, but I could tell they knew. They were just there while I was trying to figure it out."

Santana nodded. "As much as I want to deny it, their duet of Perfect was adorable. Except for the rap."

Quinn giggled again. "Agreed."

The car ride continued in silence except for when Quinn said, "Thank you," to Santana when the brunette lay her hand over Quinn's when it began to gently shake again.

"Another lovely song?"

Santana nodded, stepping out of the van to show herself in a lovely red dress reminiscent of last year's. "Oh, great dress, girl, think about Berry ripping it off with her teeth yet?"

Quinn's toes involuntarily curled in her silver heels at that, and pretended she didn't see the grin on Santana's face.

"Okay, you better love me, because I'm making Brits sit in the backseat. To our senior prom."

"Hi Quinn," said Brittany from the back, "Santana told me you're in love with Rachel. She's small but that just means you can be HBIB."

Quinn blinks. "What does that mean?"

Ignoring Santana's snickers, Brittany said, "Head bitch in bed. Like you're the one who ties Rachel up and shoves her down on the bed and –"

"Okay, baby, that's enough," interrupted Santana, her blush matching her dress. "No need to tell Quinnie here all about our sex life."

Brittany pouted. "Okay."

Quinn wrinkled her nose. "I can't believe you let Brit in on this."

"Like you wouldn't have told her eventually."

Quinn shrugged. "Okay, you have a point. But still."

"And it's not like your Berry Pie is going to be there,"

Santana groaned as she started the engine. "Brittany! You just ruined the song!"

Quinn glared at Santana. "You were going to change 'Cherry Pie' to 'Berry Pie?'"

Santana nodded. "You know. She's your Berry pie, tastes so good makes the head bitch cry."

"It was my idea!" Brittany interjects brightly.

Quinn couldn't help but laugh – Brit has always held a special place in Quinn's heart and will never cease to amaze her.

"Can we sing you the other one?" Santana asked,.

"You really look forward to this, don't you?" Quinn asked, unable to hold back the grin.

Santana opened her mouth to argue, but instead sighed. "Okay, fine," she mumbled. "Yes."

Taylor Swift came on, and Santana started singing at the chorus, Brittany backing her up with the harmonies.

"If you could see that I'm the one who understands you, been here in a thong so why can't you see, I need you Berry, I need you Berry."

Quinn laughs as the two of them really get into it. "You say he's good I know you better than that, hey whatcha doing with a jackass like that."

"Oh! Here's my favorite part!" exclaims Brittany.

"Oh, I was driving to your wedding, in the middle of the day, I got hit by a truck, but I love you anyway, I know you're the next Barbra and I fuck you in my dreams, think I know where you belong, think I know it's in me!"

Quinn doubled over, violent laughter wracking her body as she tried to comprehend the absurd lyrics. "You two," she gasped, "you just completely dirtied up what is arguably the most adorable, innocent song in existence."

Santana laughed along with her, and Brittany was grinning brightly in the back seat. "Well you basically challenged me after I played Catch Your Wave. I had to do something ridiculous."

"You succeeded, my friend," said Quinn as she began to recover. "You really did."

Quinn was on the defensive until she heard the words, "Do you not understand what you mean to me?" She sat there, trying not to jump out of her seat, and if you asked her, she probably couldn't remember much of what was said.

Until, of course, when Rachel told her that Quinn was beautiful. Humble. Inspiring. That her biggest accomplishment was being Quinn's friend.

That Rachel voted for her.

"Stop making out with Berry and get to the Spanish room, Quinn, it's time to count the votes and declare me the winner!"

"Alright," said Rachel, a light brush of a voice, "bye. Good luck!"

Quinn counted the votes in a blur and when she realized she won, it wasn't what she wanted. It didn't validate her. Her dream come true was a little closer to seeing someone else with a goofy crown and a pretty smile.

"Don't you want to leave this place having made a difference?"

"You can stand!" exclaimed Rachel, scurrying over to Quinn in her heels. Adjusting the crown put on her head by Quinn, she slowed herself just in time as to not knock the newly bipedal Quinn over. She pulled the blonde close to her, and Quinn felt that all too familiar thud in her heart that sent her whole body reeling. "Oh, Quinn, I'm so happy."

"I am too," Quinn whispered into the shoulder of the girl whose dreams Quinn had just made a little bit brighter. She gripped a little harder, trying not to think about how, even if something did happen with them, she'd be at Yale and Rachel, no matter what, Quinn new, would be in New York. "I am too."