A/N: This is my attempt at humor. I apologize if it's awful. Thank you to mykindofparty for being an awesome beta and letting me bounce ideas off her. Title is all because of her and The Decemberists.
"Santana… Santana, move to the left," Brittany shouts from the safety of the ground as she watches her girlfriend climb the tallest oak tree in Lima. Well, the tallest tree in Lima's only park anyway. One of her eyes is squeezed shut while the other hides behind the eyepiece of the handheld camcorder she has focused on Santana. Quinn stands next to her, trying to hold her laughter in as Santana struggles to make her leg stretch far enough to reach the only branch to her left. "No! My left, not yours!"
"Brittz, we have the same left!" Santana shouts as she looks down at her girlfriend and Quinn. She immediately regrets the decision when she realizes how high off the ground she is. She gulps and presses herself against the wide stem of the tree. She takes a moment to steel herself before she climbs even higher.
"Do you plan to torture her like this all summer?" Quinn asks. Brittany pulls away from the camcorder and flashes her a bright smile. Quinn chuckles and shakes her head. "You're awful."
"If your girlfriend was leaving in three months, you'd want to film her being awesome, too," Brittany says with a shrug. "Santana said we're not allowed to make anymore sex tapes so this is the next best thing." Four years ago, that information would have made Quinn blush and change the subject. Now, she simply smiles at the way Brittany's eyes light up whenever she says 'girlfriend' or Santana's name.
"I guess her trying to rescue your cat from a tree is something I'd like to have on film, too," she admits.
"I can hook you up with a copy when it's finished. I'm going to call it The Pussy Avenger. If she can't save my cat, she can sure as hell avenge him," Brittany says before she pulls Quinn into a one-armed side hug and turns the camera around so it faces them. "Since it's not a sex-tape, you can co-star."
"Thanks, Britt, but I think I'd rather stay in the audience," Quinn laughs as she tries to wiggle out of the other girl's grip.
"Come on," Brittany whines. There's a small pout on her face when she asks, "How else am I going to remember you when you leave for Yale?"
"Brittany, I am going to kill this tub of lard!"
Santana's voice makes the taller blonde whip her head and the camera around so they're both focused on her girlfriend again, who is struggling to keep a large cat in her arms. The ball of fur claws at her chest and she mentally pats herself on the back for deciding to wear overalls this morning. Unfortunately, the beast starts to crawl his way up to her shoulder. Santana squeezes the blob against her chest so he can't move, but loses her footing in the process.
"San!" Brittany shoves the camcorder into Quinn's hands and rushes to the base of the tree. Quinn manages to focus the camera on the two girls just as Santana and Lord Tubbington crash into Brittany.
"I saved your fat-ass cat, Britt," Santana groans. Said cat squirms out of Santana's hold and hops off her chest. He sits down a few feet from the girls and starts to lick the underside of his paws. He scurries out of the way when Quinn approaches with the camera.
"And the protagonist of our film crashes and burns."
"Fuck off, Fabray," Santana growls as she rolls off her girlfriend and gets to her feet. Brittany gasps for air once Santana's weight is off her. Santana offers her a hand up, which Brittany gladly takes.
"My hero," the blonde wheezes once she's on her feet again. She takes a second to catch her breath before she leans over and places a kiss on Santana's cheek, who grins like an idiot. When Brittany pulls away, Santana tugs her back and leans in to give the taller girl a quick peck on the lips.
"Ugh. If you guys are going to keep this up, I'll go meet up with Sugar by myself," Quinn says with a roll of her eyes.
"Hold up. When the hell did we decide we were hanging out with Sugar?"
"She texted Quinn and me while you were up the tree chasing tail," Brittany says. "Her dad opened an ice cream place and she wants to share his wealth with us." Her brow furrows for a moment before she says, "I wonder if they make money-flavored ice cream."
"I'm down for free shit I don't have to shoplift. Let's drop Lord Tubbs off at your place and gets our ice cream on."
Brittany nods in agreement as she picks up the large cat. Santana glares at the blob of fur when he relaxes against the blonde's chest and starts to purr. Quinn thinks she sees her mouth something along the lines of, "I hate you," at him as they walk back to the parking lot where they left Puck's truck.
"Hey, Brittany," Quinn says once they reach the beat-up bucket of bolts. The blonde looks up from the cat resting against her boobs when she hears Quinn call her name. "Did you know there's a ladder in the back of the truck?"
"Duh. How do you think I got Lord Tubbington in the tree?" Quinn blinks at the response before she shakes her head and climbs into the backseat.
The trip to Brittany's house is only supposed to take fifteen minutes at the most. Unfortunately, Santana insists on driving so she doesn't have to hold the cat. Even more unfortunate is her inability to drive a stick. The truck stalls several times on the way to Brittany's place before it finally jerks to a stop in front of her driveway.
"I think it's time for me to drive. I'm not in the mood to get into another accident," Quinn suggests once Brittany gets out of the truck. Santana responds with a glare. "If I drive, you and Britt can make-out in the backseat."
When Brittany gets back to the truck, Quinn is in the driver's seat and Santana has the back door open for her. She smiles and climbs inside where her girlfriend greets her with a smirk. She shuts the door behind her and scoots across the seat until their legs touch.
"You guys better not have sex back there," Quinn warns as she puts the truck into drive. Brittany giggles and Quinn catches a glimpse of her bright smile in the rear-view mirror. She sighs at the response and decides to only use her side mirrors during the drive to the ice cream parlor. Once she is back on the main street, she turns the radio up to drown out the breathy moans coming from behind her.
The drive to the ice cream parlor is, thankfully, much smoother than the one to Brittany's house. When Quinn pulls into the parking lot of Scoops n Sprinkles, she searches for a car that looks like it might belong to Sugar. She figures the pink limousine that takes up the back of the parking lot is her best bet, so she pulls into one of the few spaces left next to it.
"We're here!" Quinn shouts over the music blasting from the speakers. She rolls her eyes when she gets no response. She cuts the engine to silence the music and looks over her shoulder.
She finds Brittany curled up on the seat with her head on Santana's lap and her eyes closed. Santana smiles softly as she runs her fingers through Brittany's hair, who unconsciously leans into the touch. Despite the ache it causes in her chest, Quinn can't look away.
She's happy for her two friends, but moments like this remind her that the girl she loves is in New York. The knife twists a little deeper whenever she remembers Rachel loves Finn in a way she could never love her. She shakes those thoughts out of her head. She's supposed to be having a good time with her friends and she isn't going to let thoughts of Rachel Berry rain on her parade.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you the one scaling the tree version of Mount Everest today?"
"Yeah, but she hasn't been sleeping much. She's too busy like, watching me while I sleep," Santana explains with a shrug before she places a soft kiss on Brittany's temple. Tired blue eyes crack open and immediately search for Santana's. "Ice cream time, Britt-Britt," she says when their eyes meet.
"Ooh! I call shotgun!" Brittany, suddenly wide-awake, scrambles to the other side of the truck, flings the door open, and sprints towards the front of the parking lot. Quinn and Santana simply stare as the leggy blonde disappears around the corner of the pink and purple ice cream parlor. Quinn snaps out of it first.
"You have a little drool on your chin there, San," she points out. She chuckles when Santana wipes the back of her hand along her chin. The darker girl glares at her when it comes away dry. "Sorry. Had to break you out of your trance somehow."
"Whatever. I had a good reason for it," Santana says as she opens the door and climbs out. Quinn follows suit and they walk across the parking lot together. They are just about to reach the corner of the building when the blonde leans over and whispers,
"Would that reason have anything to do with Brittany's ass in those jean shorts?"
"Possibly," Santana replies with a smirk. The smirk quickly turns into a scowl and she swats Quinn's arm. "That's for staring at my girlfriend's ass, Fabray!"
"I was just kidding!" Quinn laughs as she rubs her arm, but the scowl on Santana's face doesn't disappear until they turn the corner and find Brittany bouncing on the balls of her feet towards the end of the line. Quinn nudges Santana with her elbow and says, "There's your girl, San. You can smile now."
"I swear I will shove your face under one of the ice cream machines and toss you in a dumpster if you don't shut your mouth," Santana warns, but the smile on her face takes the edge off her words. It only gets bigger when they approach Brittany.
"What took you guys so long?"
"Nothing important, B," Santana says as she slips her hand into Brittany's. "We were just talking about your shorts," she elaborates. She brings their hands to her lips and kisses Brittany's knuckles. The taller girl blushes. She still isn't used to Santana being openly affectionate in public. She also isn't complaining. She wouldn't mind an entire summer of her girlfriend showering her with affection.
"Lovebirds in the house!" Sugar's voice startles them out of the moment. They look over and see her watching them, her head cocked to the side. "What are you guys doing back here?"
"Standing," Brittany deadpans.
"I can see that," Sugar says with a roll of her eyes. "I meant, why are you guys standing back here with these peasants when you're supposed to be up front with me?"
"Um… I don't think people like it when you call them birds."
"Sorry. Aspergers," Sugar hastily apologizes. She ignores the large group of people still glaring at her and tugs on Brittany and Santana's conjoined hands. "Come on," she whines. "You guys are VIP. That's like a free pass for cuts."
"Calm down, Sugar. We're coming," Santana says as she pulls her hand out of Sugar's grasp. She shakes some feeling back into it as her and Brittany follow after the younger brunette.
Brittany looks over her shoulder when she realizes one third of the Unholy Trinity is absent. She spots the missing member staring at the group of children lined up for face painting. At first, she thinks Quinn is plotting to steal one of them the same way she planned to steal Beth away from Shelby, but then the person who runs the tent grabs her attention. Something clicks like a seat-belt in her brain and she smiles to herself. She looks forward once more as she hooks her arm around Santana's.
"I love you," she whispers in the shorter girl's ear. Santana can't help the grin that spreads across her face. She doesn't respond with words, but she does step closer to Brittany and lean her head against the blonde's upper arm.
While Brittany, Santana, and Sugar disappear to the front of the line, Quinn wanders over to the face-painting tent. The line is made up of giggling children with dollar-bills crushed in their tiny fists. None of them look older than nine or ten, so she feels a little out of place as she stands behind them. The line moves at a crawl, but the wait is worth it when she finally gets to the front and her suspicions are confirmed about who is in charge of the tent.
The Mack sits on a stool with a thin paintbrush in hand. Her tongue peeks out of the corner of her mouth as she draws on a little girl's face. Gone is the denim vest and tank-top Quinn is used to. Instead, Mack is decked out in black jeans, a purple shirt with Scoops n Sprinkles scrawled across the chest, and a pink, folded hat that reminds the blonde of a sailboat.
"All done, you little badass. Go terrorize your parents or something," Mack says with a wave of her free hand as she drops the paintbrush into a glass of murky water. While Mack pulls out a new case of paints, Quinn watches the little girl clumsily stumble off the stool and run towards the ice cream line to find her parents. She raises an eyebrow when she sees the biker skull drawn on the girl's face.
"Yo, lady! Are you just gonna stand there all day? 'Cause I got other customers I can take care of," Mack yells without looking up at her. She's too busy swirling the stained water with her paintbrush.
"Do you really think you should use language like that around kids?" Quinn asks as she takes a seat on the unoccupied stool. Mack's head snaps up and the blonde almost laughs at the way her eyes widen. The other girl's mouth opens slightly, only to snap shut a few seconds later. Once the surprise wears off, she squares her shoulders and lifts her paintbrush.
"I never said I was good with brats, Fabray," she says with a shrug. "Now do you want me to paint you a rainbow or a butterfly?"
"Seriously? Those are the only options?"
"They're the only ones you get. You can either pick one or get out of my tent." Mack flips the paintbrush around and taps her chin with the plastic end. "Or I could give you a gold star if that's what you really want," she adds with a smirk. Quinn bristles at the remark and stands up.
"Well, I can see that stopping by to say hi was a big mistake." She sighs and pulls her wallet out of her pocket. After she withdraws a dollar bill, she throws it at Mack and leaves before the darker girl can say anything else to embarrass her. Thirty seconds later, she hears the other girl call her name.
"Quinn, wait up!"
She doesn't. In fact, she quickens her pace and wipes the back of her hand across her eyes. She tells herself it's just allergies making her eyes burn and not Mack's rejection.
"I'm sorry," The Mack says when she finally catches up to the blonde. She groans when Quinn ignores her. "Look, I didn't mean to snap at you, alright? I was just… you know… embarrassed." Quinn rolls her eyes at the excuse. "Hey, I mean it, okay?" Quinn still doesn't answer, but she does stop walking. Mack pulls the purple hat off her head and twists it in her hands as she looks down at the ground. "I shouldn't have said that thing about the star. That was kind of dumb, huh?"
"Why are you saying all this to me?"
"Because I thought this was how apologies worked? Am I doing it wrong?"
"No…"
"Okay, good. You had me worried for a second there," Mack says. She finally looks up from the ground. There's half a smile on her face when she thrusts out her hand and asks, "Do you think you can maybe forgive me for being an asshole?" The half-smile transforms into an actual grin when Quinn laughs and shakes her hand. "Awesome shit, Fabray."
"Shouldn't you get back to your job now?" Quinn asks. Mack's brow furrows and Quinn tries not to laugh at the expression. "You know… the face-painting thing?"
"Damn it," the other girl mumbles under her breath. "Okay. You and your friends come back to the tent after I close down and I'll paint your faces for free," she offers. Her face contorts into a grimace when she realizes what she just said. "Actually, make it half-off. I kind of need the cash."
"Okay," Quinn says with a nod. Mack's smile grows even larger, but she quickly tempers it down to a cocky smirk and crosses her arms over her chest.
"Alright, well… Cool," she says. "I guess I'll just go back to my tent now before all the brats go cry to Mr. Motta."
"You probably should."
"Right. I should. So um… back to the tent. That's where I'm going," she repeats as she starts to walk backwards. Quinn chuckles and waves, which makes the smirk on Mack's face turn into a grin again. It disappears when she stumbles over one of the boys waiting in line for face-painting. "Watch where I'm going, you little devil-spawn!" she snaps when she regains her footing.
Quinn laughs when the little boy starts crying and Mack kneels down to his level to apologize. She watches the scene for a few more seconds before she heads back towards the ice cream parlor to find her friends.
"What the hell took you so long, Q? Did you stop to give birth again?" Santana asks when she approaches their picnic table.
"I saw a friend," she says as she slides in between Santana and Sugar. "She said she would paint our faces for half-price if we stop by her tent later tonight."
"Ooh! Can we Santana? I want to get a Batwoman mask!"
"Uh…"
"You can be Catwoman and whisk me away into a life of crime and debauchery," Brittany continues, unaware of her girlfriend's confusion as she climbs onto the table. Santana looks at Quinn for help, but the blonde just shrugs. "I'll chase you around the house tonight but you, clever Catwoman, will lead me to your lair and catch me in a trap," she announces from her perch atop the picnic table. She finally looks down at Santana, only to realize her girlfriend doesn't really understand what she's talking about. "The lair is your bedroom and the trap is your panties."
"Okay, yeah. Face paint sounds cool," Santana says with a nod of her head. "Now can we maybe go get ice cream?"
"Sure thing, honey. I'll be right back," Brittany says before she hops off the table. She kisses Santana on the cheek and skips off towards the side entrance of the ice cream shop.
"So…" Sugar starts, "I probably shouldn't ask if you guys want to sleepover tonight, huh?"
"Maybe tomorrow, Sugar," Santana replies with a smirk.
Once Brittany returns with four ice cream cones and hands them out, the group of friends enjoys the sweet treat in a comfortable silence. Brittany shares her strawberry and chocolate twist with Santana, who offers spoonfuls of her Superman ice cream in return. Sugar pretends to gag at the sight, but she has to stop when her chocolate chip mint ice cream starts to melt. Quinn keeps to herself as she tries to eat her french vanilla cone before it suffers the same fate as Sugar's ice cream.
"So did your friend say when she would be done for the day?" Brittany asks after everyone is finished with their ice cream.
"No," Quinn replies with a shake of her head. "If you guys don't want to wait around all day, I'll text you when she's ready."
"I don't think we'll have to wait all day, Q," Santana says after she wipes some ice cream off the top of Brittany's chest with a napkin. She's pretty sure Brittany intentionally made the ice cream drip there, but she's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. "It looks like children are swarming the ice cream line. I'm pretty sure that means face painting is done."
"Awesome!" Brittany swings her legs over the wooden bench and stands up. "Let's go get our face paint on, Catwoman," she whispers in Santana's ear. The small brunette gets up as fast as she can and hisses in pain when she knocks her knee on the tabletop. She starts limping towards the tent, but Brittany picks her up before she can get far.
When the four of them reach the tent, Mack still has her paints out. The water looks cleaner than the last time Quinn was here. Mack's hands, however, are messier. It takes the other girl a second to hear them approach, but when she does, she waves her paintbrush and asks,
"Who's first?"
"Shotgun!" Brittany shouts before she walks to the stool as fast as she can with Santana still in her arms.
"B, you can put me down now," Santana says when Brittany sits on the stool. The blonde nuzzles her neck in response. "Or I can just stay here. Do you think you can still paint her face with me on her lap, Mack?"
"I have been painting the faces of squirming children all day. What do you think, Santana?"
"Point taken. Paint away," Santana says before she leans against Brittany's torso and rests her head on Brittany's shoulder.
When Mack finishes, Brittany sports a rather lifelike rendition of Batwoman's face mask and Santana's Catwoman mask looks almost as real as Anne Hathaway's. Sugar decides against the face paint, stating that she doesn't want the paint seeping into her skin and damaging her pores.
"I guess that leaves you, Quinn," Mack says. She smirks as she pats the stool in front of her.
"Do you want us to wait for you?" Brittany asks. She smiles like she already knows the answer. Quinn is grateful she doesn't have to come up with some lame excuse to make her friends leave.
"No, you guys can leave without me. I can walk home from here."
"Alright," Brittany says before Santana can ask if she's sure. "Text us a picture when you're all done."
"Okay. Text me when you get home so I know you didn't let Santana drive," she says. Brittany nods and carries Santana towards the parking lot. Sugar hangs around until Quinn glares at her. She squeaks and runs off to ask Brittany and Santana if they want to hang out in her limo before they go home.
"So here we are again," Mack says once Quinn finally takes a seat. "Did you think about what you wanted?"
"Um… a tiger?"
"You sure? I think you could pull off a lion way better," Mack suggests as she dips her paintbrush in fresh water. Quinn thinks it over for a minute before she nods her approval. "Awesome. Now give me a moment and I will work my paintbrush magic."
The cold paint sends a shiver down Quinn's spine when the brush touches her cheek. The bristles tickle and give her goosebumps. If Mack notices, she doesn't say anything. Instead, she concentrates on making perfect strokes.
"You know, I liked your hair better when it was pink."
"What?"
"Your hair. It was pink. Remember?" Mack clarifies while she swirls her brush in paint. "I liked it like that," she repeats. She's silent for a moment as she tries to pick the perfect spot to start painting again. "I'm not really a pink kind of girl, but you pulled it off."
"Thanks."
"You don't talk much, do you?" Mack asks, as if it's an afterthought.
"You should know the answer to that. We did hang out while I was a Skank."
"Yeah, but I thought that strong and silent type was kind of an act, y'know? To scare off your little glee friends," Mack admits. She starts to paint on Quinn's forehead. She's careful not to get get any in her hair.
"You seem to be doing enough talking for the both of us."
"Would you like me more if I didn't?"
The question takes Quinn by surprise. She can't remember the last person who asked her what she wanted. Sure, Puck took the time to notice that she was going through something much bigger than she could handle, but he did nothing to help. And Rachel… Well, Rachel was good at making her feel better about herself, but whenever Quinn tried to show her how she felt, Rachel suddenly became oblivious to the signs.
"No. I like you just fine right now," she finally answers. Mack smiles in response and continues to talk about how much she missed Quinn being a Skank and how she was a little disappointed that she never joined The Troubletones. Quinn lets herself enjoy the sound of Mack's voice and even laughs at some of the stories she's already heard about The Troubletones.
"I'm kind of bummed you didn't win prom queen," Mack remarks as she starts to put the final touches on Quinn's lion mask. "I know I didn't vote for Rachel. I kind of thought it was a joke when they announced her name."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Mack says with a nod of her head. "I mean, she wasn't even nominated and McKinley isn't really known for giving the underdogs their time to shine," she continues when Quinn doesn't say anything.
"What if… What if I told you I was actually supposed to be prom queen? That I won by one vote?"
The brush stops mid-stroke for a moment before Mack shrugs and starts to paint again.
"I figure you have your reasons."
"Rachel told me she voted for me," Quinn whispers, despite the fact that Mack didn't ask for an explanation.
"So did half the school."
"Yeah, but I won by one vote. I won because of Rachel's vote."
"No," Mack argues. "You should have won because more people voted for you than they did for Santana and Missy."
"But, it was because of that one vote—"
"Yeah, that one stupid vote! But that vote could have come from anyone, Quinn," Mack snaps. Quinn can see the frustration in the other girl's eyes, but Mack still manages to keep the paintbrush steady. "It could have come from Puck or Artie or Rick the Stick or…" Mack pulls the paintbrush away from Quinn's face and starts to fiddle with it instead. She looks down at her lap as she says, "It could have come from me."
Quinn blinks at the admission.
"I didn't even see you at the prom."
"I may or may not have been waiting for a good time to approach you," Mack says with a shrug. "I was going to tell you I voted for you, but then Rachel won so it didn't matter," she explains. She shakes her head and wets the paintbrush again as she says, "And prom has been done and over with for a while now, so it still doesn't matter. Actually, it probably matters even less."
"You talk more when you're nervous."
"Thanks for pointing that out. It makes me feel really good about myself," Mack says as she leans in finish to finish painting Quinn's whiskers. After the last stroke, she pulls the brush away, but she stays close to Quinn's face. "There. You're the prettiest lion I know."
"Even without the pink hair?" the blonde asks with a smile. Mack seems to hesitate before she leans in and places a soft kiss on Quinn's lips. Quinn doesn't push her away.
"Even without pink hair," Mack whispers after she pulls back. "A pink mane would have been pretty cool, though, huh?"
Quinn laughs at the remark.
With Mack around, she's starting to think maybe, just maybe, she could find find a way to shine without Rachel Berry this summer.
Okay, well I hope you guys laughed at some point or another. I'll probably end up writing something else in this 'verse at some point. Thanks for reading!