I've been working on this for months, but never quite got the chance to finish it until now. Also, a brief PSA: I am still working on Draw Your Swords. Chapter 4's been about halfway written for a very long time, and though my current priority is GYHAB, I have not abandoned DYS. BELIEEEEEVE.

One final author's note: I do not speak French, and I apologize for any inaccuracies, if Google Translate lied to me.

When Quinn holds up the plastic baggie, Spencer backs away like she's just seen a massive spider.

"Seriously?" Quinn deadpans with an arched eyebrow.

Spencer's jaw drops in indignation. "What do you mean, 'seriously'? That's illegal, and dangerous, and unhealthy—"

"First of all, that's bullshit," she replies, already pulling open the bag, "And y'know, with all that 'A' crap you've told me about, I can't believe you're scared of a little bit of weed."

"I'm not scared," she argues, crossing her arms defensively.

"Uh-huh."

Spencer's clearly trying to hold back a pout. "Where did you even get it?"

Quinn shrugs as she gets to work on rolling the first joint. "Christmas present from my friend Puck."

"What if we get caught?"

"Oh, so it's 'we' now?" Quinn asks, throwing her a smirk, and she rolls her eyes at Spencer's glare. "Spence, we're sitting in a treehouse in my backyard in the middle of the night." She runs the tip of her tongue along the edge of the paper, pretending not to notice the way Spencer licks her lips.

"I've, uh…" Spencer clears her throat. "I've never done anything like this before."

She sounds legitimately nervous now and Quinn laughs softly as she rolls the joint. She grabs a lighter from her pocket and pulls at Spencer's feet until her legs are flat against the floor, then crawls over her until her knees are planted on either side of Spencer's hips.

"I know," Quinn replies, bringing the joint to her lips, "and I won't force you. But I really think," she continues, lighting the end and taking her first drag, "You'd like it." The last three words come out as a murmur and smoke fills the small space between their faces; Spencer doesn't hold her breath, and Quinn grins. She holds up the joint and after a beat Spencer takes it, studying it for a moment before bringing it to her lips. Quinn has to hold in a laugh at how intense and concentrated Spencer is about the whole process.

Spencer inhales, and the second she lowers the joint, Quinn presses her mouth to Spencer's; there's a sigh against her lips and she lets the smoke drift down into her own lungs.

"Fast learner," Quinn chuckles as they break apart. "What's the verdict?"

"S'good," Spencer mumbles, pulling her in again, and Quinn giggles into the kiss.

For a while they just work on the joint, passing it back and forth and watching each other take hits. Quinn can tell Spencer is relaxing: her posture isn't as rigid as before, and Spencer's slipped her thumb through one of Quinn's belt loops, and she's pretty sure Spencer is breathing in more deeply with every pull.

"How're you feeling?" Quinn asks once there's only a few hits left.

Spencer peers at Quinn like she's thinking really hard about something. "How do you do that thing with your voice?"

"What thing?" she manages, and she's having difficulty not staring at Spencer's mouth.

"You…" Spencer reaches out and puts a fingertip on Quinn's bottom lip, then pushes down so Quinn's jaw opens slightly. "You sound so attractive," she says, her eyes completely serious. "Like, how does that work?"

Quinn cracks up laughing and Spencer just keeps on studying her face, which only makes her laugh harder, but then Spencer's mouth is on hers again, and Spencer's tongue has never tasted like this before.

"Alright," she mumbles between kisses, "there's a burning object in my hand." She finally pulls away and takes another drag. "You want some more?" she asks, but Spencer's already grabbing the joint from her.

She inhales deeply and tilts her head back against the wall as she blows out the smoke. They both watch the gentle breeze carry it out the window, and for a long moment, everything is silent.

But then Spencer all but shoves her away and onto her back, and Quinn is about to protest when Spencer follows her down and literally flops on top of her.

"Spencer, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Shhh," she hisses, covering Quinn's lips with her index and middle fingers. Quinn tries to speak again and Spencer cuts her off. "What if 'A' is out there?" she whispers. "Like, right out there?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Want me to check? We can invite her up—maybe she's less of a bitch when she's high."

"Well, we actually don't know if 'A' is male or female. Well, there've been two males and two females, but they weren't the 'A'—they were just mini-'A's. And for all we know there could be, like, seven of those. Seven 'A's," she says, and suddenly she grins. "Like my report card."

"You are precious."

Spencer's eyes flicker to Quinn's mouth. "Do the 'S' sound again."

Quinn thinks for a moment, then wets her lips. "Spencer Hastings," she says slowly, dragging out each 'S,' "is so, so, so stoned."

"Oh my god," Spencer moans as she rolls off of Quinn so she's lying beside her.

"You gonna be okay?" Quinn asks dryly.

Spencer doesn't answer, just stares up at the roof. "There are so many stars tonight."

Quinn holds in a giggle as she reaches over and cups Spencer's cheek, turning her head until they make eye contact. "Babe. That's the roof."

"What are you talking about?" Spencer demands, her eyebrows furrowed, and now she's reaching out in front of her as if her fingertips aren't still several feet away from the roof.

Quinn reaches out as well and takes Spencer's hand, lacing their fingers together and bringing their arms back down. "You can't see sky from here, hon. There's a bunch of wooden planks in the way."

Spencer slowly turns her head again to look at Quinn, and her expression is so genuinely miserable that Quinn holds back the laughter bubbling up in her throat and sits up, trying to pull Spencer with her. "Come on, you idiot."

Spencer's pout deepens and she pushes Quinn's hand away. "Don't call me an idiot."

"Venir sur, imécile," Quinn replies sweetly, and she watches Spencer swallow hard as she lets Quinn take her hand.

Getting back down the ladder ends up being much more complicated than the climb up was, and she's glad she goes first because Spencer stops about halfway down.

"Would it kill you to hold the ladder steady? You know I hate heights."

Quinn raises an eyebrow and presses the tip of her index finger against the wood. "Is that better?" she deadpans.

Spencer makes it down the remaining two rungs and carefully steps off. She glances at Quinn, then back up at the treehouse like she's remembering something, then blurts "Wait, you said—"

"It is not my fault," she interrupts, wrapping her arms around the back of Spencer's neck, "that French turns you on, regardless of the words I'm saying."

Spencer shakes her head quickly. "Not true."

"Je voudrais un cactus pour mon anniversaire," Quinn purrs, her mouth less than an inch from Spencer's, and she can feel Spencer's breath hitch. "Le soufflé de l'enfant sent très mauvais."

"If I killed you right now," Spencer manages, "there wouldn't be any witnesses."

Quinn cocks her head. "Not even 'A'?" she asks with a playful smirk. Spencer freezes and Quinn gives her a peck on the lips. "You'd probably get a lot of shit for murder. I think you're better off letting me live."

Spencer doesn't speak for the longest moment. "I guess that's fine," she mutters finally before crashing their lips together, and somehow Quinn ends up with her back in the grass and Spencer's weight on top of her, keeping the cold away as their mouths connect over and over.

The kisses move down to her neck and when Quinn opens her eyes, her heart skips a beat at all the stars sprawled across the sky. "Spence," she says, trying to get her attention, but all she receives in response is a playful nip on her collarbone. "Hey, doofus. You can see the stars now."

Spencer pauses and looks down at Quinn. "Say that in French."

"Vous pouvez voir les étoiles maintenant."

She considers it, but then shakes her head. "Still not important," she mutters, and then her lips are back on Quinn's, and honestly?

Yeah. Fuck stars.