Title: Four And A Half Women
Genres: Romance, Friendship, Humour, Fluff
Characters: Quinn, Puck, Kurt, Rachel, Brittany, Santana
Warnings: Course language and pretty suggestive in some places. It's either a heavy T or a light M, so I went with M to be safe. Let me know if you think it could/should be changed! Also, this contains slash and femslash. Don't like, don't read. Simple.
Summary: Faberrittana, Puckurt (NOT Quick!) Quinn juggles having a newborn baby and, to her complete shock, having three girlfriends. Meanwhile, Puck decides that with the loss of his four favourite canoodling partners, it's time to find someone new (read: Kurt). Let the Bizarroness ensue!
Disclaimer: You think this is hard? Try not owning Glee, that's hard! (Even though I'm pretty sure none of you do anyways...)
Author's Note: OK, sooo... this is my first attempt at writing fanfiction, so please, don't be too harsh. These pairings are my OTP and my OT4, so I thought why not combine the two? And thus this was born. I have ideas for two sequels and a possible prequel, so if the reader response is good, I might write more! R&R, my fellow Gleeks! Pretty please?
Quinn was pretty sure she'd entered Bizarro-World. Not bizarro-world, but Bizarro-World, worthy of capital letters and even italicization.
Her reflection in the slightly grimy bathroom mirror gazed back at her; her face was clear of makeup, her eyes were shrunken behind purple, bruise-like circles, and altogether she looked kind of like death warmed up. The craziest thing? She couldn't even bring herself to care.
She could practically hear Kurt's gasp of horror at that – he's always a stickler for flawless makeup and impeccable attire – but, seriously, there's a three-week-old baby crying in the next room. At the moment, she's so tired it hurts, and her stained trackie daks, ratty oversized tee and frumpy dressing gown have been her uniform for what seems like fricking forever.
Beth was wailing in the next room, Puck was crashed on the couch downstairs and her mother was God-knows-where. She'd offered for Quinn to move back in, chattering nonstop about nurseries and pacifiers and the crates of diapers she'd bought, and then – poof – she'd disappeared after a week of no sleep. At least this time, even though they were in separate places, Quinn got the house. She thought her mom was staying in a motel somewhere.
Quinn just needed two minutes to herself or she'll go insane.
Having a baby had really taken its toll on her, but that wasn't even the weirdest thing. So much insanity has been packed into the last three weeks that she's not entirely sure she's not just having a really long and detailed dream.
At first she was set on giving Beth away, but, before the time to give her up had even come, she'd known she wouldn't be able to go through with it. She knew having a baby would tie her down, change her life drastically, but she just couldn't give her away. Puck had been thrilled – he'd been against giving her up from the start. Now he looked just as much like a zombie as she did.
They'd had several long conversations since Beth's birth, in between Bethsleep and coveted parentsleep, a shining rarity in this new, flipped life. Both had come to the same conclusion – the spark and the passion was gone, and Puck loved Quinn, as in plural. They were closer now, having a baby together, but neither wanted to be together.
No, Puck and Quinn had buried the hatchet long ago. But that didn't mean either of them were single, exactly.
That was where the weird part kicked in.
The two of them had been in the hospital for five days and home for two before the tornado hit. Their fellow Gleeks had visited them in the hospital, and of course Quinn had seen Mercedes when they moved her stuff back home, but for the most part they'd avoided being bombarded. Six days had been declared enough time before ten people swarmed down on them in a free-for-all. Some, however, hung around more than others. And despite the fact that Quinn was mourning sleep as a dead and gone friend, their presence... wasn't... unwelcome.
Mercedes was great, and still a really close friend of Quinn's, but she wasn't one of the ones Quinn was talking about. Finn had been there, but was keeping his distance, understandably. Artie and Tina had visited a couple of times, brought a couple of small gifts and whatnot, as had Mike and Matt. But they weren't the ones who made Quinn's (and Puck's) world go Bizarro.
Kurt. Santana. Brittany. Rachel.
Yep. This was where things got Bizarro.
Puck had slept with countless MILFs, Cheerios, Brittany, Santana, and herself. He'd made out with and/or fooled around with countless other random girls, too. He was most definitely into the fairer sex.
Which was why it came as a bit of a shock to everyone – the infamous badass included – when he started staring at Kurt's ass like he was starving and said ass was a piece of his favourite meat.
A world where Puck was anything but straighter than an arrow was enough to qualify as Bizarro already. But that wasn't yet all. The weirdest part was yet to come.
Quinn slumps against her bed. Every muscle in her damn body aches. She longs for sleep, but knows it's probably far, far out of her reach. She's just put Beth down, and the devilish little baby had looked deceptively peaceful in early slumber. What were the odds on it lasting?
Sure enough, not half a minute later the ear-splitting wails start up again. Quinn heaves a bemoaning sigh, but slowly, sluggishly made to drag herself up anyway. Just as she's pulling herself to her feet, however, a small hand halts her movements.
"Puck's got her," Brittany says gently. "Go back to sleep."
"Back to sleep?" Quinn says. "I wasn't asleep in the first place. I'm so overtired I don't even know if I can."
Brittany looks befuddled. "You don't wanna sleep then?"
"Oh, believe me, I want to," Quinn says longingly.
"OK then," Brittany says, turning to leave. She's halfway out the door when, suddenly, without preamble, she turns, skips back, and plants her mouth firmly to Quinn's.
The kiss is short, but still slow and passionate. Brittany's tongue twines lazily around Quinn's, and, despite the fact that she's so sleep-deprived she can barely distinguish between reality and insomnia-induced, whacked-out daydreams, she's still lucid enough to feel the fire stoked in her chest. Passion ignites within her – she hasn't felt this way since, well, since Beth was conceived.
The kiss is over all too quickly. Brittany pulls away and moves to sashay out of the room.
"What the – " Quinn starts.
"Just wanted to cheer you up," Brittany says cheerily as she saunters out the door. Quinn shakes her head as she sinks back into the bed. Only Brittany.
...
Quinn gets about ten minutes of blissful dreamland before she's woken by a shout. "You did WHAT?" the voice screams. It sounds kinda like Santana.
A moment later, Quinn has to suppress the urge to whack herself over the head. Duh, Fabray. It sounds like Santana because it is Santana.
Groaning as she realises sleep has eluded her once again, Quinn hoists herself out of her bed once more and shuffles out to face the commotion.
Santana and Rachel are sitting side by side on stools in the breakfast nook, Brittany standing in front of them with her arms crossed over her chest. "We're all supposed to be waiting!" Rachel says petulantly. "We all agreed – we'd wait to ask her for another month or so."
"But I didn't ask her!" Brittany says, equally as petulant. "I just kissed her, to cheer her up!"
Santana opens her mouth to say something more, but is silenced by Quinn making her presence known. "Ask me what?" she asks as she loops a knot in the sash of her grandma-esque dressing gown.
All three of them gape at her. "Quinn!" Rachel says finally, hurriedly. "Why aren't you asleep? You really look like you could do with some sleep. Sleep! Sleep is good..."
"Stop rambling, Man-Hands," Quinn shoots, more habitually than anything else. She's surprised by the sudden vindictive reaction of both the girls who'd formally called her the same thing.
"Quinn!" Santana snaps. "Rachel doesn't have man-hands! Her hands are very feminine. Brit and I would know!" Rachel smirks for a second before she notices Quinn's WTF expression.
"Um, Santana?" she says, and Santana realises abruptly what she's said.
"Well, shit."
There's an awkward silence. Quinn's tired and grumpy and she wants to get a tiny bit more sleep before it's her turn to take Beth again, so she's the one who breaks it. "Would someone care to tell me why your screaming woke me up, when every precious second of sleep I get makes me less likely to bite someone's head off?" She doesn't notice Brittany licking her lips at her BAMF-ness.
"Oh, shit. We woke you up?" Santana says.
"Yep, with the 'you did WHAT?' thing. Why was it a cause for yelling that Brittany kissed me, exactly?" Quinn says. She chooses not to mention the Rachel-most-definitely-has-girl-hands-we-would-know thing just yet.
Santana rolls her eyes. "Brit wasn't supposed to kiss you yet," she says, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
"SanTANaaaaaaaaaa!" Rachel whines.
"Oops," Santana says sheepishly.
Quinn is getting more and more confused by the second, and she's not used to trying to think on no sleep. "Yet? Ask? Rachel-most-definitely-has-girl-hands-we-would-know?" she says weakly.
Rachel smirked again, briefly, before quickly digressing. Quinn could practically see the cogs in her head turning as, most likely, she starts inventing a maniacal plan for damage-control.
Santana, however, isn't quite so into beating around the bush. "Well, Brittany already has," she mutters. "I may as well." She stands, crosses the room in two energetic bounds that Quinn is immensely jealous of, and plants her mouth firmly on Quinn's.
This kiss isn't like with Brittany – Santana immediately initiates a battle for dominance, and Quinn revels in the familiarity. The two girls had always had a fight-for-dominance going on, ever since Quinn had been appointed Head Cheerio. The fire rages and burns within Quinn as she finally succumbs to Santana, letting her take the lead in the fiery duel of their questing tongues.
Quinn doesn't dwell on the fact that the thought "I'll win next time" that crossed her mind. There was no doubt in her mind that she definitely wanted there to be a next time, but she's still wrapped up in the kiss and she's still really tired, so she decides not to worry about it just yet.
Santana pulls away, finally, after what seems like an eternity. "I win," the Latina says devilishly.
Quinn slumps back against the wall – she seems to be doing a lot of slumping lately – as all the fight leaves her. "Not that that wasn't great or anything," she says weakly, "but it still doesn't answer my question.
Rachel sighs, perturbed. "Now, normally I would employ a detailed explanation and possibly even some pie charts to make you aware of the goings-on between Santana, Brittany, myself and potentially you, but I thought I would have more time to prepare something. Since this is on rather short notice and I find myself increasingly tempted to follow in Santana's footsteps, that is exactly what I shall do."
And that's how Quinn finds herself kissing the third of the three girls who had infiltrated her living room.
She was already leaning against the wall, so when Rachel kisses her she finds herself pushed flat against said wall as Rachel ravages her mouth rather thoroughly. With Santana, Quinn had battled for dominance in a tantalising duel. With Brittany, the kiss had been slow and sensual and somewhat evenly matched. With Rachel, all Quinn wanted was to submit herself completely and let Rachel do crazy things to her. The fire within her increases tenfold and she finally notices the ache that has started up in a place that has never ached like this before. It's kind of scary.
Rachel finally pulls back, licking her lips with satisfaction. "Any questions?" she asked.
"Um..." Quinn says, struggling to catch her breath. "I don't know..."
"Let me address them for you," Rachel says, turning to Brittany and Santana...
...Who are making out feverishly on the couch.
"Well, there's one answer," Rachel says, sauntering up to them like she sees this every day (come to think, she probably does), pulling the two girls apart and kissing Brittany passionately.
The blonde and the brunette were kissing for a grand total of about three seconds before Santana's hands skate across Rachel's stomach, pulling her away, twirling her around and kissing her fiercely, completing the circle.
The brunette and the Latina finally break apart, and the three of them plop down unceremoniously onto the lounge. Rachel sits in between the two, seemingly the only one who can break them apart, with her arms encircling the both of them. Brittany and Santana link pinkies on her lap.
"I believe the word you are looking for is polyamorous," Rachel says authoritatively. "Any more questions?"
Quinn would have slumped against the wall again, but she already was. "Just one," she says weakly.
Rachel raises her eyebrows.
"When can I go back to sleep?"
And that was the story of how Quinn got herself three girlfriends.
She'd never thought of herself as gay, and she was still most certainly attracted to boys. But, if she was honest with herself, she'd always been sort of jealous of the way Brittany and Santana were with each other, and it was like her eyes were magnetised to Rachel in the girl's sinfully tiny skirts. So it wasn't like this came out of nowhere.
Her inner monologue was interrupted by Beth's screams increasing tenfold. God, with that set of lungs you'd think she was the lovechild of Rachel and Kurt or something.
Gagging at the thought, a groaning Quinn trudged out of the bathroom and towards her impending doom. Goodbye, sleep, she thought. I miss you.
An hour later, Beth's screams were just not abating. For once, Rachel, Santana and Brittany weren't there. That sucked, because Quinn could really do with a pick-me-up and often two of the three girls would take Beth of her hands while the third made out with her or dragged her off to bed (no, not off to bed – they'd push her under the covers, tuck her in, turn of the light and close the door behind them. Quinn was pretty sure the rest of them were doing, um, stuff – she knew for a fact Brittany and Santana had been for awhile, and with the whole Rachel-most-definitely-has-girl-hands-we-would-know thing makes her pretty sure Rachel is joining in. Quinn was really very interested in joining in, but maybe that would be more of a distinct possibility when she had enough energy to not get exhausted after a fairly short make-out session).
Quinn glanced out the kitchen window as she opened the fridge to get the baby formula. Bugger. Kurt's car was in the driveway, meaning that Puck was more than likely not going to be available to take Beth off her hands for awhile. Quinn hadn't actually gotten confirmation that the two of them were together or whatever, but Kurt was over more and more often every day, and Quinn was starting to get verrry suspicious. She was hoping to catch them in the act sometime.
It seemed it was Quinn's lucky day, because Beth finally quieted as the bottle of formula was handed to her, and, as the ex-Cheerio walked past the loungeroom, she heard a loud thud that very well could be Puck and Kurt and decided to investigate.
Sure enough, when she eased open the door, she came across Puck and Kurt kissing like their lives depended on it. Only, much to Quinn's surprise, Kurt had Puck backed against the wall (in almost the same place where Rachel had kissed Quinn for the first time, Quinn noted, a little creeped out).
She musn't have been as quiet as she thought when she opened the door, though, because Puck's eyes flew open and widened as he saw her standing openmouthed in the doorway. He pulled back from Kurt, muttering, "Um, dude?" to the little countertenor pinning him in place.
"Told you not to call me dude," Kurt muttered as, in the absence of Puck's mouth, he latched onto the larger boy's neck.
Quinn smirked slightly. Frankly, she was kind of surprised Puck would call someone he was making out with dude – she'd thought he would be pretending Kurt was a girl or something.
Puck, too, smirked. "OK then, Princess," he said, with a look on his face that clearly said hehe-I-just-poked-the-dragon-aren't-I-badass?
Kurt unlatched himself from Puck's neck. "Told you not to call me princess either," he grumbled. "I have a penis, you know."
Quinn nearly dropped the formula bottle (and Beth) she was holding when Puck smirked again and says, "Oh yeah, baby, I definitely know." He then remembered Quinn's presence.
"Um, babe?" he said. Kurt finally seemed satisfied with the name, because he just hummed as he continued sucking the life out of Puck's neck like he was some sort of vampire. "Babe. Babe."
"What?" Kurt finally said irritably, detaching himself from Puck's neck once again.
"Quinn's behind you," Puck snickered.
They both expected Kurt to flip, and so both were surprised when he said dismissively, "Oh. Hey, Quinn," and resumed trying to eat Puck's neck.
That's the precise moment that Beth started wailing again.
Puck groaned. "I'll take her," he says, untangling himself from Kurt's octopus-like grip and trudging wearily over to his baby and baby mama.
That reminded her. "I thought you were meant to be asleep?" she asked. Puck looked just as dead-on-his-feet as she did, and the bags under his eyes were equally as prominent. To her surprise, Kurt hasn't yet commented on her grandmotherly robe or Puck's ratty T-shirt and boxers. Lady Fabulous looked rather out of place in his skinny jeans and the weird shirt thing that's kind of like a T-shirt except for the fact that it zips up. (She thought it was Prada, but, despite her former popularity and her friendship with the fashion-forward duo that is Kurt and Mercedes, she's really never been bothered with brand names).
The de-mohawked boy shrugged and raised his eyebrows. "I'm as asleep as you were last week when you were in here making out with Santana, Brittany and Hot Jew."
Puck leered. Kurt gagged. Quinn blanched. "Point," she conceded, handing Beth over and yawning tiredly. "Well, since Santana, Brittany and Rachel aren't here, I'm gonna get some sleep."
"I'd better get going too," Kurt said, looking put out at having lost his make-out partner (not to mention still grossed out at the thought of Quinn making out with other girls, especially with that being plural).
And finally, Quinn can get some sleep.
Four blissful hours of sleep later, Quinn's roused by her grumbling stomach. God, stomach, you complain more than Rachel, Quinn thought, before halting. Did I really just talk to my stomach and compare it to my girlfriend? She could excuse talking to it as having been pregnant fairly recently, but comparing it to Rachel? That was just a new level of Bizarro.
Not to mention she was still getting used to calling Rachel (and Brittany and Santana) her girlfriends. Every time she did, she felt all squirmy and uneasy, but somehow simultaneously cheerful. It's too early for this shit, she thought, glancing at the clock. Or not. It was five-thirty at night, and she hadn't eaten since breakfast. No wonder she was hungry.
She trudged down the stairs and into the kitchen to find Puck standing there staring blankly at the contents of the fridge as if it held all the answers to the universe. "Hey," she said.
He didn't turn around. "Hey," he replied. "Beth's been asleep two hours."
"How'd you do it?" Quinn asked, shocked. "Do you have secret magical powers?"
"Yep," Puck grinned, finally turning to face her. "Actually, I don't know. Just got lucky I guess. How come you're up?"
Quinn shrugged. "Haven't eaten since breakfast," she answers. "Shove it." Puck scooted away from the open fridge, leaning against the island bench instead. "I could ask the same of you. Why aren't you asleep?"
Quinn missed the noncommittal shrug but turned around with a package of bacon in her hand when Puck started speaking. "Couldn't sleep," he grunted. "Brain won't shut up."
Quinn nodded. "What're you thinking about?" she questioned as she attempted to find the frying pan without making enough noise to wake Beth.
"Y'know," he said shiftily. "Stuff."
Quinn hefted the frying pan triumphantly. "Stuff or stuff?" she enquired, smirking.
To her surprise, Puck blushed. Actually blushed. "Dang, where's my cell?" Quinn groaned. "I wish I could've gotten a photo – you're blu-shiiiiing!"
Puck just turns even redder. "Shut up," he said. "But, yeah. Kinda both." He pushes on through the colour in his cheeks, ignoring Quinn's delighted smirk.
"I never thought I'd like another dude," he muttered. "And I thought, y'know, when I started liking Kurt, that he was practically a chick anyway. I was a bit weirded out, but I just sort of thought... I dunno... a nice, tight hole to fuck would be a nice, tight hole to fuck."
Quinn grimaced at his language and bluntness. "And?" she prompted, setting the frying pan on the stove and prepping the bacon.
"I never imagined how much I like it that he's a dude. It's, like, crazy." Puck shook his head. "I mean, we haven't gone all the way yet, but – "
"You haven't?" Quinn interrupted, eyes wide. Puck, waiting? Puck waiting? Dear Lord, that was nigh unheard of. "I never would've thought! Kurt of all people has tamed Puckzilla the sex shark!"
"Shut up!" Puck whined. Quinn snickered at his childishness. "And he really isn't as prissy as everyone thinks," he added.
Quinn snickered again. "I figured that when I walked in on him pinning you to the wall."
Puck grinned. "Yeah..." he said, getting a faraway look in his eye for a moment before shaking it off. "And, as I was saying... I mean, we haven't gone all the way yet, but when we do... I don't even know for sure if I'll be on top..."
Quinn yelped. "Jeez, Puck! TM-fricking-I!" She paused, flipping the bacon. "Wait, seriously?"
Puck just nodded.
Quinn tried very, very hard not to laugh. Really.
She failed.
In fact, the only thing that kept her upright was the incentive of not burning the bacon. Tears of mirth streamed down her face. "Oh, God, that's priceless," she gasped.
Puck sat there, stony-faced. "Are you done?" he said. "Done laughing at my misery and at the distinct possibility that my man-card might be revoked?"
Quinn managed to suppress her laughter this time. "God, he's rubbing off on you, you know," she said, successfully ignoring his leer. She swore sometimes that Puck's dirty mind was so far in the gutter, it was in the sewerage. "All that melodrama..."
"Soooooo..." Puck said finally, while Quinn served up her bacon. "How goes things with... what are they, your girlfriends?"
Quinn shrugged. Along with all the slumping-on-walls, she seemed to be doing a lot of that too. "Think so," she said. "Is Kurt your boyfriend?"
Puck shrugged too. "No idea," he said. "I mean, I thought he'd be all girly and shit, wanting to label everything straight away. But, like I said before, he's really not girly and shit like I thought he'd be."
Quinn nodded. "I'm pretty sure they're my girlfriends," she said. "God, that feels weird, saying I have girlfriends. It's scary."
"And hot," Puck interjected.
Quinn rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but I can say you and Kurt is hot, but I know the idea of having a boyfriend scares you a little. You've been raised with your mom telling you to find a nice Jewish girl, and instead you're with Kurt, a German boy. It's the same with me. I've been raised being told that homosexuality is a sin. I've already been kicked out of home once – I have no idea how Mom's going to react when she finds out I have not one, but three girlfriends."
Puck sat there silently as Quinn revealed her own insecurities, as well as some of his own. Quinn lapsed into silence too, picking at her bacon. She didn't feel quite as hungry as she had two minutes ago.
Eventually, Puck broke the silence. "But it's still hot."
Quinn giggled, and Puck grinned, happy he was successful at lightening the mood. "Where's mine?" he asked, gesturing to the bacon.
Quinn giggled again. "Make your own!" she said, picking the plate up and moving it quickly out of reach of his snatching hands. Puck was sulking, so Quinn leaned over and poked his beloved guns.
Leering, Puck said, "You just wanna touch the guns."
Quinn snorted. "As if. I have three girlfriends, why would I need to feel up your guns?"
Puck's leer grew even more pronounced. "So, how goes that then?" he asked, licking his lips.
Quinn groaned. "You perv!" she said, laughing. "Why should I tell you?"
"I told you!" Puck returned indignantly.
"Yeah, but you brought that up. You wanted to tell me," Quinn defended.
"You brought that up!" Puck said. "Well, kind of."
Quinn shook her head. "You still wanted to tell me," she said adamantly. "I didn't ask. You did. Wanna know why? 'Cause you're a perv."
Puck pouted. "Okay, you win. But just tell me anyway... c'mon, you know you wanna!" He smiled winningly.
"I thought I just established that I didn't wanna," Quinn quipped, smiling. Puck knew he had her.
"Alright," she conceded, munching on a piece of bacon. Mmm... sweet, delicious bacon... she thought. How I love you. Almost as heavenly as sleep. She ignored the pang of longing she experienced when she thought of sleep.
"How far have you gone?" Puck asked, his eyes sparkling. Such a pervert.
"No further than heavy make-out sessions," she said finally. "Unfortunately. I know Brittany and Santana have been doing it for aaaages, and judging by the way Santana of all people defended Rachel's apparently "very, very feminine" hands when I called her Man-Hands again, she's joined in too. But I just had a baby three weeks ago. I don't have much of a libido back."
Puck pouted a bit at the lack of details. "How does it work anyway?" he asked.
Quinn raised her eyebrows. "I'm sure your imagination can fill in the blanks," she said.
"No, not the sex," Puck said, as if it should be obvious that he wasn't talking about sex. Well, how was Quinn meant to know? It's Puck, nine-and-a-half times out of ten he's talking about sex. "Just, you know, dating in general. How does it work with four people?"
Quinn shrugged, again, for about the fiftieth time. "It's called polyamorous, according to Rachel," Quinn said. "You know, romantic relationships with more than two people in them. Four is called a polyamorous quad. But I don't know... we haven't exactly gone out out, I'm kind of tied to the house at the moment."
Puck grinned in acknowledgement of her point. "But I don't know how going out would work anyway," she continues. "I mean, it's Lima. Even two girls going out on a date would be frowned upon." She paused. "Well, unless they're Santana and Brittany. Those two are inseparable, they can get away with anything."
Puck laughed, again acknowledging her point. "Are they still like that?" he asked. "I mean, even with you and Rachel there?"
Quinn appreciates the fact that he doesn't call her Hot Jew again. Not that Rachel isn't a Hot Jew with capital letters to boot, but it makes her feel kinda protective when Puck says it, like she needs to clock him one and tell him 'It's a foursome, not a moresome, and only me and Brittany and Santana should be allowed to call her that'.
Puck raised his eyebrow in enquiry, and Quinn realises she hasn't yet answered the question. "Pretty much, yeah," she said, rushing to answer. "I mean, they're still BrittanyandSantana, or 'Brittana', as Kurt christened them a while back. But, I mean... I guess I lied, they're not completely inseparable. Rachel separated them pretty effectively the other day."
Puck smirked. "Oh? Do tell..." he laughed.
Quinn grinned. "She pulled them apart while they were kissing. It was after they'd all kissed me, but before I knew they were, like, all dating now, and I thought she was gonna get fried in Santana's deathstare. But she just kissed one, then the other, and then sandwiched herself in between them on the couch. They linked pinkies in her lap."
Puck had a faraway look in his eye again. "That's soooo hot," he said. "Bloody hell."
Quinn snickered. "You sound British or something. Like Ron Weasley."
Puck laughed. "Dude, I'm way more badass than Ron Weasley. And Harry Potter. And even Dumbledore."
"No-one is more badass than Dumbledore," Quinn proclaimed.
Beth started crying again.
Another week passed by, and things weren't getting any easier with Beth. Quinn's sleep to caring-for-a-baby ratio hadn't increased any, but she was slowly getting used to living on no sleep. And the make-out sessions with Rachel, Brittany and Santana were getting more and more frequent and more and more enthusiastic. She felt like they were slowly but surely leading somewhere else. It was awesome.
Quinn's mom had also called, saying that no, she was not staying in a motel, but rather with a 'friend'. The excuse the woman gave was that she wanted to give her and Puck some space, but Kurt had apparently seen her mother out with some big, bulky, well... tattooed freak. ("He gave me the evil eye because I was wearing this new Armani shirt. Bitch.") Quinn didn't want to know. She was just glad her mother thought she was with Puck, and didn't suspect the actual truth.
Today, however, was doing pretty damn good. Rachel's dads (who, though they still didn't know about their daughter having three girlfriends, were among the first people the foursome was planning to tell) had offered to take Beth for awhile. Puck was actually leaving the house (shockgasphorror) and Rachel, Brittany and Santana were coming over here.
For the first time in a long time, Quinn had gotten a block of sleep at once. She felt a little guilty leaving her guests to fend for themselves, but the well-rested state she finally found herself in upon waking far outweighed that guilt.
Stretching and yawning, Quinn made her way down the stairs to the lounge room, where the low murmur of something playing on the television. The question of what was on was quickly answered the moment she opened the door.
'My Little Pony?' she mouthed sceptically at Rachel, who was sitting closest to the door. Brittany sat to her right, holding hands with Rachel as she snuggled up against Santana, who sat on her other side. Quinn melted at the sight.
Rachel shrugged, taking care not to jostle the hand that was linked with Brittany's and distract her from being glued to the screen. It's right then that the credits roll, and as Brittany belted out the My Little Pony theme song, Santana too noticed Quinn's presence. "Sleeping Beauty has awoken," the Latina said dryly. "Good timing."
Said Latina waited until the credits were finished and Brittany had stopped singing, then switched of the TV. Quinn grinned. Santana may insist on being a total BAMF, but when it comes to Brittany, Quinn knew she was nothing more than an incoherent puddle of goo. She'd never tell her, for fear of the shorter girl murdering her in her sleep or something, but she found it adorable.
Finally, Brittany noticed the other blonde standing in the doorway. "Quinn!" she said, delightedly. "Come sit down!"
"Where?" Quinn asked. There didn't seem to be enough space for her on the lounge the other girls all occupied, but she didn't want to sit all on her lonesome on another couch.
As if the answer was obvious, Brittany patted her lap. Quinn's eyes widened slightly, and she glanced at Santana. She'd seen the Latina sitting on Brittany's lap before, and had thought it was kind of an exclusive activity.
"We're all dating," Santana said impatiently. "'Course you can." Oops. Quinn hadn't meant to say that out loud. She moved to the taller blonde, cautiously perching atop her thighs.
Brittany snaked her right arm around Quinn's waist suddenly, pulling her in so her back was flush against her chest. Quinn squeaked in surprise. Rachel, whose hand was still entwined with Brittany's, shifted a little closer and leaned her head into Quinn and Brittany's aligned shoulders. Santana draped her arm over her oldest girlfriend's shoulders, completing what may soon become one of their favourite cuddling positions.
"How did you sleep?" Rachel asked, prim as always. Quinn wondered if she was always that articulate – even during sex – and immediately cursed herself at the thought. Don't think about sex, don't think about sex, don't think about sex... she chanted. Her nerves were kicking in. Was today going to be the day?
"Fine!" she squeaked. "Great. Just, um, lovely." Quinn, what the hell? You are a Fabray. You don't let yourself get intimidated and squeak embarrassingly, even when faced with the possibility of sexytimes with your three awesomely hot girlfriends.
Unbeknownst to her, Rachel and Santana smirked at each other behind hers and Brittany's heads. "Great," they said, simultaneously. Whoa, Santana and Rachel speaking in unison? This really is Bizarro-World!
"You've been really tired lately," Brittany said. "Now maybe you've got your energy back..." she let the sentence trail off.
Quinn bit back a gasp. Brittany was using a sultry tone of voice that Quinn had never heard her use before. The taller blonde had always been the gentlest of the three when they'd been kissing – it sent electricity through Quinn's veins and to the sweetest of places when Brittany spoke like that.
Finally, Quinn managed to get her voice back. "M-maybe we should t-take this upstairs?" she stammered. God, she sounded like Tina before the girl had stopped stuttering! "Puck sleeps here, I'm s-sure he'd love it if we, erm, ch-christened his couch."
Santana stopped smirking at Quinn's stutter long enough to grimace. "Okay, upstairs it is."
The four girls shot up the stairs with renewed vigour and made straight for Quinn's room. Quinn realised with a start that somehow her dressing gown had disappeared on the way up.
Rachel pushed Quinn down onto the bed, and that desire the blonde had harboured for the brunette to dominate her crazily increased tenfold. Santana moved quickly and efficiently to close the blinds, and Brittany made to lift Quinn's shirt up and over her head. Quinn lifted her arms unconsciously to make the job easier, then shivered as the oversized tee was discarded and – seeing that she'd been going braless pretty much since her milk had dried up – she was left lying half-naked on the bed.
All of a sudden the brevity of what was about to happen rushed up like a tidal wave and made Quinn rather dizzy. She felt quite self-conscious – she lay next to two of Sue Sylvester's Cheerios and a vegan ballet dancer, and she still had pudgy bits of baby fat on her tummy. She had to resist the urge to cover herself as all three girls stared at her.
"You're gorgeous." The silence was broken by Rachel's reverent murmur, and all of a sudden all three girls sprung into action. Someone pushed Quinn into a half-sitting position and slid behind her, Quinn's back to their naked chest. Her heart leapt into her throat and her eyes slipped shut. The body behind her wasn't like what she was used to – it was very undeniably feminine.
Someone else – Quinn couldn't tell who with her eyes shut – descended upon one alert nipple as the girl behind her rolled the other between her fingers. The third and last of Quinn's amazing girlfriends grabbed her ass, lifting and straightening her legs and dragging the waistband of her sweats and cotton panties off her hips and all the way down. Who was who? Quinn thought it might have been Brittany behind her, from the length of the torso and the size of the breasts pushing into her shoulder blades. She peeked through her eyelashes and saw a flash of dark hair at her breasts – but was it Santana or Rachel?
Then the lowest girl whispered in a sultry, indistinguishable voice, "Spread your legs," and a pair of slender fingers brushed her thighs and slipped without warning inside her and Oh God, Quinn stopped trying to figure out who was who, stopped thinking altogether as she gave herself over to sweet sensation.
The four girls sat in the lounge room once again several hours later. Quinn had just had the best experience of her life, and it just cemented the fact that these girls were all she wanted and needed. At this moment in time, she didn't care what anyone else thought.
She'd had just enough time to have a shower and get dressed – she wore the same clothes as before, but fresh underwear had definitely been on the agenda – before Rachel's dads had dropped Beth off. Rachel had declined her fathers' invitation to lunch, though, and the three girls were still there, much to Quinn's delight. Brittany and Santana were currently cuddled up on an armchair, Rachel held Beth, and Quinn was snuggled beside them, wrapped up in a comforter like a cocoon. (For some reason, she was cold, despite the fact that it was summer, and she couldn't for the life of her find that dressing gown).
This was how Puck and Kurt found them. Kurt skipped in first, looking as chipper as one of those My Little Ponies Brittany loved so much – or perhaps just as chipper as Brittany herself. He plopped down on the armchair with a bright, upbeat "Hey, bitches."
Rachel raised her eyebrows. "You're in an unusually cheerful mood, Kurt," she observed, slightly frosty. Rachel and Kurt's frenemy status never failed to entertain Quinn, and she stifled a giggle, looking for Puck to share an amused glance with... but he wasn't there.
"Where's loverboy?" Santana asked, obviously taking a similar train of thought.
"We had to park down the street a bit, seeing as there was a line of cars spilling out of the driveway," Kurt replied. "I jogged up here – we ate ice-cream on the way and I wanted to burn it off. Puck – ahem – decided he wasn't up to running."
Santana's brows knitted together, as did Rachel's. Brittany, as always, was somewhat oblivious. Quinn, on the other hand, was putting the pieces together.
Her suspicions were confirmed when they heard the slam of the door and, a moment later, Puck shuffled in, grinning just as much as Kurt, but not nearly as I'mma-run-around-and-jump-up-and-down-and-do-the-splits. He crossed the room stiffly to take Beth from Rachel before squishing himself carefully in beside Kurt on the second armchair. "How are my favourite four and a half women?" he asked the room at large.
"I am going to quote our best girly friend and say, 'Oh hell to the naw!'" Quinn exclaimed to a smirking Kurt, disregarding Puck's question completely.
Santana, being Santana, was the next to get it. "Holy fucking shit!" she gasped. "No fucking way!"
Brittany looked puzzled, and Rachel, being Rachel, had that look on her face like when she was trying to solve a particularly problematic math equation. Quinn leaned over to whisper in Rachel's ear. Santana, however, didn't have quite as much tact.
"Hummel nailed the Puckzilla!" she exclaimed.
Puck's not grinning anymore, but he still sports an embarrassed half-smile. Kurt still looked like the cat that got the canary. Brittany still looked puzzled. "Nailed?" she asked. "isn't that a little mean? And what's a Puckzilla?"
"Kurt and Puck had sex and Puck was the girl," Santana explained herself quickly.
"OH!" Brittany said. "Hey, wait, that means Puck and Quinn lost their gayginity on the same day!"
There's a beat of silence before everyone cracks up laughing. "Gayginity – gay virginity!" Rachel gasped.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Kurt said snarkily. Rachel glared at him.
"Dickhead," someone else said, attempting to disguise the word behind a cough.
"My dick may have a head, but my head does not have a dick, thank you very much," Kurt snarked with an air of superiority.
There was another beat of silence before the room exploded with laughter again. Just when the laughter seemed to be dying down, Puck gave Kurt the trademark Hungry Sex Shark look and said, "Indeed."
Santana pretended to gag, Rachel snickered whilst trying valiantly to pretend she wasn't, Brittany giggled cutely, Kurt preened, and Beth started wailing. Quinn just grinned, leaning back against the lounge as Puck rocked Beth to quiet her down. Then something occurred to the muscular Jewish boy.
"Wait, you lost your 'gayginity', Quinn?" he said. "Is that why your dressing gown is hanging off the curtain rod?"
"Oops," Santana said meekly.
Everyone cracked up again. "We were in a hurry to get upstairs!" defended Santana, who, kind of crazily, looked... embarrassed at being embarrassed?
"It's OK, Santana," Quinn said finally, after she'd managed to calm herself down some. "I'm glad you were so... passionate."
It was Santana's turn to preen and Kurt's turn to gag as the rest of them just laughed again. Quinn snuggled into Rachel's side with yet another contented grin.
Life was good.