Chapter 1: Baked Berries

A/N: Welcome to my first drabbles collection, this will be a pell-mell mix of humor, romance, angst, friendships, and whatever else tickles my fancy. For the sake of being proactive this collection will be rated M, I'm not really a smut writer but I do liberally use profanity so when uploading I prefer to err on the side of caution. The following story will be the first in a series that's set in its own little verse based off of the episode "Naked".

"I suppose you're both right, besides who would even want to see me topless?" *(A/N: The author of this fic does not personally agree with this statement. Lea Michele is a fucking goddess and as I was lucky enough to catch her in Spring Awakening I feel completely confident in saying that I would gladly pay money to see it again. Thank you for your time and we now bring you back to your story already in progress.)*

"Well Finn for one, and I'm sure Quinnie would."

Quinn exclaimed a breathy "Truth!" as her eyes glazed over momentarily before noticing that the two brunettes in the room were now staring her, one in hopeful shock, and the other like a cat that washed that thrice damned canary down with all of the cream. Needless to say Quinn was slightly confused (read: still trying to shake the rainbows and unicorns out of her head) about what must have happened so she quickly replayed over the last few seconds only to pale in horror. 'SHIT! MAYDAY! MAYDAY! LEMON DOWN, LEMON DOWN, ALL SYSTEMS START REPRESSION AND PREPARE TO DENY!' After setting facial expressions back to neutral the blonde attempted a nonchalance, that had the Latina not been well versed in Lemonese she never would have be able to spot the nanosecond freak out, before fully turning towards the other two girls looking back and forth between them expectantly with an indifferent arched brow. "What?"

Santana just shook her head in disappointed amazement, "Really Q…really, that's how it's gonna go down? You expect us to just ignore the fact that you just admitted to wanting to sink your teeth into Rachel's surprisingly ripe, deliciously sweet, and juicy looking berries?"

Forcing a disgusted scoff, the inwardly corned and palpitating blonde attempted to throw her best frenemy off her scent, which admittedly is such an impossible task she'd switch with King Sisyphus any day of the week. "Eww that was just so wrong on so many levels! God Santana, must you be so crass and vulgar? I really could have done without that visual, no offense meant against you Rach or to women who are of that orientation; in fact I'm more than positive that for anyone attracted to the fairer sex your body would be greatly lusted after, I mean just wow! Like really Rachel, have you seen your legs? And my GOD having an ass that perfect is almost crimin…b-but that is neither here nor there; my point is THAT is your scene Lezpez, not mine and surely not Rachel's." 'Translation: hellsto the yea I want to devour those berries, and every other last inch of her; but I'm not about to admit that now and risk my five year plan to win Rachel over Lopez, but since you're putting me on the spot I'm going to try to overcompensate for the Christian hetro persona I am so obviously failing at.'

'Damn,' Rachel thought, 'Quinn is REALLY repressed, this explains SO much!'

After a few seconds of stunned silence Santana huffed a laugh and said, "Wow that was the gayest fucking thing I ever heard Q," 'Seconded' Rachel thought, "and I have had to listen to Hummel and Alpha Gay singing 'It's Rainin' Men' to each other in a car on the way to Bear Night at the only gaybar in a 50 mile radius of Lima."

"As you would say Santana 'bitch please', try being forced to listen to the soundtracks of The Bird Cage, To Wong Fu, and Priscilla Queen of the Desert for four plus hours, with your fathers singing at the top of their tone deaf lungs on a spring break trip to visit Boy's Town in Chicago with them wearing full rainbow regalia, then you can talk to me about gay!" 'Bitch better not try to play the "I was almost drowned in glitter and rainbows" card on me, I have 16 years of that trauma on you Lopez.'

"Touché Berry, you win this round; that was way gayer than mine, however I think Q's little love letter to your lower half has tha-…"

"For the last time Santana, no matter how much you may personally wish it were true I. AM. NOT. GAY!"

'The closeted lesbian doth protest too much…' thought Rachel wryly. Really this was better than reality TV for the diva, because as much as Santana was trying to push Quinn's buttons because she found pleasure in it, the youngest girl knew it was primarily for her and Quinn's benefit.

With a hearty scoff and well practiced eye roll, the fiery Latina quickly brushed off the blondes' desperate projection. "Please Q spare me, A) get over yourself because I did first week at freshman year cheer camp, and don't even try to pretend I never caught you sneaking peeks in the locker room at all this, *pfft* just wanted to be a lookout for me and B when we were in the showers so we wouldn't get in trouble with Coach, my perfect toned caramel colored multi-racial ass; and B) if you're straight then that makes Finn a god amongst mortals in bed, and the sex so good that it is what actually made me question my lesbianism junior year, not my fear of homophobic bullying… the sex…with custard nips."

Bristling in response to being called out (and to every word being true) the blonde decided to hit the Latina where it hurt, right in the Brittana. "Whatever S! Stop trying to pass the two dollar buck onto me just because you've had a case of the blue balls ever since Brittany moved on from your trifling ass!"

"Oh yea? Well ya know what Blondie! I've got four words for your repressed ass, 'Jodi. Foster's. Clam. Bake.'…"

To be continued…