AN: Yes, this is shorter. I'm sorry. I had a really hard time writing this. Sorry.
"Qunnie?" Her mother's head peeked around her door and Quinn tried her hardest not to groan. Her mother knew she hated being called by her childhood nickname. It made her think of Winnie the Pooh, or Twinkies. Her mother also knew that she hated being woke up before noon on a Saturday. Normally, she woke up on her own accord, without any help from her mother or father. Actually, it was normally her cell phone that woke her up. Some idiot football player texting her about a party she wasn't all that excited about or Santana calling her to get a ride. It didn't matter how many times Quinn told her to suck it up and get her license, Santana insisted it was too much work and took too much time. Besides, Quinn driving her around ensured she could apply her mascara on the run.
"I was in the middle of an amazing dream. Amazing," She muttered, pushing herself into a sitting position and crossing her arms. "Why couldn't I finish it?" Her voice was a little whiny but she knew her mom was expecting it. Quinn wasn't much of a morning person and it was really rare for her to dream. Or, rare for her to have pleasant dreams. Her dreams were normally nightmares. But she liked it. For some reason she never really took the time to investigate, she loved being scared. There was something about the startled jump, the shivers, and the fear that lasts long after the actual scare has ended.
Judy Fabray stepped in the room, wringing her hands in a way that was undeniably nervous. This brought Quinn fully to her senses. Her mom was rarely nervous. Years of dealing with PTA moms sending her disproving glances across the meeting table because of her youngest daughter's appearance had made her almost unshakable. "Santana's here to see you." Quinn arched an eyebrow and wondered just how much weirder this morning could get. Normally Santana would just come straight up to her room, jump around on her bed, and just annoy the hell out of her until she got up. What was so insanely different about this morning?
She sighed and threw her hair into a ponytail to ease the messy look she was rocking. Santana probably just needed a ride to wherever she was planning on spending her Saturday. That didn't answer the question of why Santana hadn't come up here but she decided not to think about it, to pretend like she hadn't noticed that little detail."You look nervous. Go drink some tea," She muttered as she walked past her mother and out the door, turning down the hall towards the stairs. She took them slowly, her head still spinning from her dream. She hadn't been lying to her mother when she said her dream had been amazing. It had been. It might have been the best dream she had ever had, actually. Of course, her dreams for the past week and a half had been pretty great.
She could still smell coconut (she didn't know why she had chosen coconut, maybe it was just because it was the scent of her favorite conditioner.) She could still feel silky smooth skin moving under her palms. She could still see flashes of warm brown eyes. And she could still hear her name whispered over and over again in that voice that was both familiar and delightfully foreign. She was reliving her dream when she turned the corner into the living room and saw Santana sitting on her couch. Her head was down, arms folded and propped on her knees, and Quinn thought that maybe she was trying to find some portal to hell in the beige carpet. Santana looked up at the sound of her footsteps with a smirk.
"Still sleeping in?" Santana asked, her voice teasing and light. Quinn's lips instantly turned up into a smile, glad to see that nothing was fatally wrong with her friend. She looked at Santana's typically stylish outfit and felt hobo-ish in comparison. Her shorts were raggedy from overuse, her tank top stretched from weight loss and weight gain. She knew Santana had probably been awake for quite awhile
"Still sleeping around?" Quinn was teasing, but the look that crossed Santana's face so quickly Quinn almost missed it made her regret her words. Somehow, someway, that must be connected to whatever Santana had to tell her about. Her eyebrows knitted together and she waited, not so patiently, for Santana to say something. When nothing came, Quinn broke the silence herself. "What's up, San?"
The quiet that followed made Quinn think of church. It made her uncomfortable. In church, when they were praying, someone softly played the piano. Quinn had always wondered why people did it. It didn't make much sense to her. But, now, she understood. With a TV playing somewhere nearby, the background noise was a welcome addition. She didn't consider it a distraction because it actually helped her focus. Without it, she almost felt that the moment would be too intense. Maybe that was why it was never totally quiet. There's always some type of noise, no matter how quiet it seems. She was thankful, extremely thankful, for the quiet hum of the TV.
Santana's eyes were focused on her hands and, for a moment at least, Quinn wondered if she had suddenly gone mute. Santana was always quick with words. She could come up with an insult faster than most people could blink. But, suddenly, she was quiet. The thought was quickly rejected when Santana met her eyes and decided to speak. Quinn wasn't sure what was going to come out of her mouth and she caught her breath, hanging on the way Santana opened her mouth, closed it, licked her lips, and tried again. This was the worst kind of suspense. She could think of only one other occurrence where the suspense had been nearly unbearable – taking a pregnancy test her sophomore year. Fortunately, it had been negative. Well, in hindsight, it was fortunate. In that moment, it had been a mixture of emotions. Happiness that she still had a few more teenage years left, that she didn't have to go from daughter and student to mother and student. But then there was a sadness that she hadn't been able to explain at the time. She could explain it now, somewhat anyway. She missed what she had anticipated. She had anticipated a 'positive'. She had anticipated a baby growing in her as she peed on that little stick. And, while she had been dreading the 'positive', she was still anticipating it. And she was let down.
She pulled herself away from her memories, promising herself a moment later. Sometimes she liked to relive those moments. They kept her breathing, moving forward. She needed them to propel her towards her future. Taking a seat beside Santana, she kept her distance. Santana wasn't someone you crowded, especially not in moments like this and especially not with permission. Quinn bit her tongue, fighting the urge to ramble on. Despite her popularity, she still felt a little awkward at times. She always spoke too loud or too often, made faces that weren't the prettiest when caught on camera, and hated picking groups in class. It was a lesson in self-control more than anything. She had to teach herself how to act and had to watch herself to ensure that she didn't fall into her comfortable habits.
"Can we go for a drive?"
Quinn barely caught Santana's words, they were muttered so quietly. For a moment, she wondered if she was imagining things to eliminate the silence. But Santana's eyes were on her, waiting. She nodded, fear bubbling up in her stomach. What could possibly be so bad? What could be so impossible that Santana wouldn't even be able to say it? Or, easily say it, anyway. She had never seen Santana struggle so much with words. Running upstairs to grab her purse and keys, she met Santana by her car. She went through the familiar routine of unlocking, getting in, starting it, buckling up, and turning on the radio for background music. Her mirrors never moved, staying where she needed them as no one else was allowed to drive her car. The only one she had ever given that privilege was Finn Hudson, her ex-boyfriend. That had been a terrible mistake. It took her almost four days to get everything back in its original (and ideal) position. She looked over at Santana, waiting for her to provide some kind of destination. After a few moments in silence, she put the car in gear and pulled out of her driveway. So there was no set destination, no decided end point. Maybe Santana would speak before they found themselves lost in some horror movie setting.
Turning up the radio, she started heading along the same route she had been driving for the past week and a half. It wasn't even a conscious thought so much as just habit. It was familiar. And, right now, with her familiar best friend being so totally unfamiliar, she didn't want to have to think about where she was driving. She just wanted to drive until the unusually quiet girl beside her opened her mouth to speak. Quinn didn't like the quiet. When she was younger, it was always the sign for bad news. It rarely ever indicated something good. Santana knew that. Quinn wondered for a moment if Santana was just messing with her. Quinn could flip from concerned to pissed in no time. Santana knew that, too.
"I'm a bitch."
Quinn bit her tongue, curious. Everyone knew Santana was a bitch, including Santana. She had owned up to before, many times before. Why was she treating it like new news now? There had to be more than just that.
"I'm a bitch. I'm a student. I'm a daughter. I'm a friend. I'm a cheerleader. I'm a singer."
Her voice was barely over a whisper and Quinn leaned towards her to make sure she was hearing everything correctly. She slowed to a stop at a red light, impatiently tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. These things were impossible. The red lights lasted forever, even when there was no one coming; the green lights were short and random; and the yellow lights rarely happened, leaving drivers with no warning when it came to the quick red lights.
She heard Santana take a shaky breath and she waited. This was it, this was what needed to be said, this was the bad news.
"I'm a lesbian."
Quinn didn't say anything at first. She didn't understand why Santana was treating this like it was the hottest thing of the year. Quinn was the first female that Santana had ever come onto. Quinn was the only person that was privy to Santana's nightly, or nearly nightly, escapades. She understood that this was the first time that Santana ever really labeled herself. She had stopped labeling herself as 'straight' her freshman year in high school, after her first Cheerio party. She had never labeled herself as 'gay' either. Well, until now. Now, she had just said the three words that Quinn knew were nearly impossible for her to say. Her hesitation in speaking suddenly didn't seem so bright.
"Santana…"
"Wait," Santana held up a hand and Quinn let her eyes leave the road long enough to settle on it with a disapproving glance. She stayed quiet, though, interested in whatever else Santana was about to say. "I don't want you to think any…different of me, okay? I'm still kick-your-ass Santana. And I'm not letting the razor blades out of my hair just yet."
"What – waiting to get a pixie cut?"
"Hah, funny. Save me the stereotypical lesbian cracks. I'm not getting a pixie cut, I'm not going to deck myself out in rainbow, and I'm not going to go out and buy a plaid wardrobe. The only thing different between this Santana and that, is this Santana is going to fuck other ladies," She hesitated briefly, before smiling and continuing. "Not you, though. You're safe."
"I know. I'm too good for you."
"Please. Sexy Latina outranks Christian Caucasian Cheerleader any day."
"Whatever you say, Santana, we all know the truth." Quinn said as the light turned back to green. She pulled forward, not sure where exactly she was driving to. Neither of them had set a destination so, for now anyway, they were just driving to be driving. And that was okay. In fact, maybe that was best for them. Maybe they would wind up someplace new, somewhere they never would have thought they'd find themselves before, someplace they thought only existed in movies or books or crime shows. Quinn shook the thoughts brought on by that last suggestion away and asked what had been eating away at her all day. "Anyway, what did you say to my mom? She looked really nervous when she came up to tell me you were downstairs."
Santana's lips took on a rosy hue and the corners of her lips turned up slightly, like she was trying not to smile. She ducked her head, as if she were embarrassed and Quinn started to worry. If it was bad enough to embarrass Santana, how worried should she be about her mom? Santana opened her mouth, let out a laugh, and slurred the words together into one incomprehensible word.
"Excuse me?" It was hard enough to drive, figure out what turns to take, and listen to Santana speak. Add translating Lopez-gibberish to that list, and Quinn felt overwhelmed.
"I may have said something about twat cakes and how I love them more than breadsticks and laxatives. Oh, and something about boobs. I'm not really sure."
"Santana!" Quinn gasped, holding the wheel with one hand and using the other to slap Santana's arm. "That's my mom. My devout Christian, moderately homophobic, and just a little bit crazy mom! Are you psychotic?"
"A little. But you love this psycho."
"Right now, I'm not so sure."
Hours passed and the only stop they made was for gas and drinks. Judy called once and Santana had to answer, blushing fiercely. Judy didn't mention anything Santana had said and neither did Santana, though for whose benefit, Quinn wasn't sure. The conversation was quick, just Judy wondering if Quinn would be home in time for dinner. They still hadn't figured out their destination and, honestly, Quinn was still basking in the fact that Santana had told her. Sure, they were best friends. Sure, they had basically grown up together. Sure, they loved each other in a way that was similar to sisters but at the same time hilariously different. But they fought. They were mean to each other at times. Like the kind of mean that scares little children and parents and, well, just about everybody. That's how they were. Despite that, though, Santana had told her. Santana had trusted her.
And Quinn felt like she was flying because of it.
So they had told her mother that they were going shopping and left it at that, continuing their lazy drive in companionable silence. Until Santana reached over and grabbed the wheel, making Quinn pull a U-Turn in the middle of the tiny but deserted road. Quinn instinctively slammed on the brakes, producing a loud squealing that only stopped when Santana's hands pulled away from the wheel and Quinn's hands took back over.
"Do you have a death wish?" Her voice shook a little. She knew she was an overly cautious driver but it was moments like these that really cemented it into her brain.
"You were going the wrong way!"
"The wrong way to where? We don't even know where we were going."
"Yeah, well, I just figured it out. Go this way. Straight, until I say," Santana said, turning her head from the shaken-up blonde to the road in front of her. After a few seconds ticked by and they still hadn't moved, Santana turned back to Quinn, who was just barely hiding her giggles. Her face morphed into one of typical Lopez expectancy and she waited patiently for Quinn to mellow out enough to explain her sudden case of the giggles.
"Straight until you say, huh?" Quinn managed, between giggles. She knew it was dumb of her to find it so funny but she couldn't help it. And neither could Santana, now that she knew the reason. Their laughter meshed together, loud and uncontrollable, in the middle of that silent road. It was a stupid joke but something about the normalcy of it had them holding their stomachs, shaking with laughter.
"Or," Santana paused to laugh again before she continued, "Until that little running girl tells you otherwise."
And, just like that, the thoughts that Quinn had been blissfully free of since she woke up that morning, bubbled to the surface. The thoughts that had filled her mind every single day since the day she ran across the runner, since she met Sam, since her world flipped. With Santana's words, Quinn's mind was filled with images. Images that evoked emotions she couldn't understand. And, like she always did when she couldn't understand something, she pushed them away. Right now, she wanted to spend some time with her best friend, the Clyde to her Bonnie. She didn't want to waste time with useless thoughts on a girl that didn't even know she existed.
"No, baby, you're the only that can curl me." She said with a teasing smile and a playful wink.
Thirty minutes, a few wrong turns, and a few hilarious renditions of the more annoying songs coming on the radio later, they were pulling into the parking lot of one of the more prestigious performing arts schools in Ohio. The parking lot was packed full of cars of various colors, makes, and models. They all looked newer and very well taken care of. It took awhile for Quinn to find a parking spot, only finding one thanks to Santana's consistent pointing. She slung the car into the spot, making Santana curse as her head hit the window.
"Oh, oops," Quinn said, widening her eyes and blinking them as innocently as she could. Santana rolled her eyes, lifting her middle finger before opening the car door.
"Stay here."
"Where are you going?"
Santana didn't answer her, shutting her door before Quinn was able to blurt out another question. Sighing, Quinn turned her gaze to look out the front window. Santana wouldn't have told her to stay put if it wasn't for an actual reason. Quinn didn't pretend to know Santana's plans and how they would be affected if Quinn went against what Santana had told her to do. Sometimes it was best to listen to Santana, though Quinn couldn't think of any examples of times when it had actually worked out in her favor.
Now that she was alone, without the need to keep up appearances for Santana, she could think about the girl that was still running laps around her mind. Her thoughts and her dreams had been invaded by the running girl. There were dreams of lengthy conversations, tight hugs, and, once, warm lips. There were thoughts of what her name was, what music she liked, and how her voice sounded. Thoughts and dreams that she had never really wasted on a stranger before were all she could think about in regards to the mystery girl.
Maybe it was just a sort of fascination. Maybe it was just because she had seemed so focus, so in-tune, so…centered. It was a kind of calm that Quinn wanted. It was a kind of calm that Quinn had been hunting for so long and to no avail. It was a kind of calm that a head cheerleader, top candidate for Prom Queen, and student destined for Yale couldn't even hope to achieve.
A knock on the window startled her out of her thoughts. Santana opened the door, laughing. "Damn, Q, someone's wound tight." Quinn glared at her, giving herself a minute to regulate her breathing before talking. "I'm sorry, baby. Did I leave you breathless again?" Santana's wink was cut short when she turned to look over her shoulder at something.
"You know it," Quinn rolled her eyes and unbuckled her seatbelt. "Now move, so I can get out."
Santana backed up and Quinn was able to, not very gracefully, get out of the car. Her hand instinctively reached behind her to smooth down the back of her dress. Santana walked back towards the back of the car and Quinn turned, making the move to follow her. She stopped at the sight of familiar brown eyes. Boring straight into her, they were exactly as she remembered them. Quinn watched as the girl's eyes flicked from her own to the car and back. That was the motivation she needed to step forward and follow Santana. This girl had already caught her staring once. There was no way she was going to catch her twice.
"Britt, Rachel, this is Quinn." Santana reached back and took hold of Quinn's wrist. Yanking her into the little group they had formed, she rolled her eyes. "Apparently, little miss Head Cheerio is having a shy day."
The blonde that Quinn had failed to notice standing beside Santana waved at Quinn. "Hi! I'm Brittany!" Quinn noticed Santana's approving smile at Brittany's words and wondered what was running through her head. Was this Brittany her girlfriend? Or just another one of her friends? It didn't seem very likely that Santana would go so far out of the way to meet just anyone so this girl had to be important in some way.
"And this is Rachel," Brittany was saying, gesturing towards the girl Quinn was trying her hardest not to look at. "She's an amazing thesbian."
Quinn's eyes widened and she wondered if Brittany was being serious or if it was just some kind of joke. Rachel shook her head, opening and closing her mouth, before the words came to her.
"Brittany, I'm afraid you mean a thespian."
"Same thing."
"No, Brittany, it isn't. There is quite the difference between thesbian and thespian. A thespian is an actor, or if you prefer, actress. A thesbian, on the other hand, is a woman that pretends, for attention's sake, to be a…"
"Rachel. Drop it."
Rachel. It was a pretty name. Pretty, simple, and fitting to the girl Quinn was looking at. Her hair was curled, her bangs just a little too long and grazing her eyebrows. Her outfit was something that normally Quinn would mock but opted against it, simply because her bitchy attitude just couldn't apply to this girl. Anyone else would be subject to whatever insults she could fish out of her imagination. This girl, however, was different. Her animal-printed sweater (a horse, or maybe a dolphin) was form-fitting, fitting her perfectly. The skirt she wore was short and paired with matching knee-his. And her shoes…Well, it was best to not even mention them.
She jumped back into the conversation at the end of Rachel and Santana's argument. By the end of it, she was a little upset that she had missed it.
"So, if Brittany told people specific details about your clit instead of the lit notes that were actually relevant to the conversation, you would be completely okay with that and not correct the unfortunate mistake?"
"My clit is far superior to stupid lit anyways. Let's see, private details about the hot Latina," She said, holding up one hand. Lifting the other, she said, "Or Wuthering Heights?" She lifted both hands up and down until Brittany reached over and took the one Santana had deemed private details. She linked their pinkies and leaned in to place a chaste kiss on Santana's cheek. Quinn looked away when Brittany started whispering in her ear, seeing Rachel doing the same thing.
"Do they do this often?" Quinn asked, using her eyes to gesture towards the two girls exchanging whispers behind her.
"Quite. It seems to be quite enjoyable, though. After their whisper session, Brittany just smiles for hours. It's a little frightening. Similar to the Cheshire Cat, actually."
"How long have you, well, known them?"
Rachel furrowed her eyebrows together, thinking. "I was first introduced to Brittany in the third grade. We were merely acquaintances at first, but I suppose we've grown closer over the years. Santana, however, I only recently met. I'd say a month or so ago. We're still just acquaintances but I find her increasingly refreshing and so genuine."
"I'm glad you find her so refreshing and genuine. Other, simpler people just call her a bitch and get it over with."
"But I don't believe her to be a bitch. I think she can be sarcastic and can, at times, be a little too honest for most people to tolerate. But I think that everyone can and should use the criticism."
Quinn nodded, a little startled at how Rachel spoke. She was formal, but casual. And while her words held all the wisdom of someone much older than her, the hope in her voice and the way she ran her words together all made her think of a younger child, someone excitable. It was endearing, if not a little intimidating.
Santana spoke then, saving Quinn from having to attempt to find words that could compare to Rachel's.
"Well. Is everybody ready to go?"
Quinn looked over at Santana, confused. But she got no answer, just a slight shrug and a smile. With a roll of her eyes, she turned back to Rachel. "Are you ready?"
Rachel hesitated, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. After a moment, she smiled and nodded. "Yes." Her voice came out as a whisper and Quinn got the impression that she wasn't that familiar with being invited to go places.
Brittany squealed and ran towards the car, pulling Santana in behind her. Quinn and Rachel exchanged a look as the door slammed shut and giggles were heard from the inside of the car.
"You want to sit in the front?"
"Yes, please."
Brittany and Santana had calmed down as they drove. Now, they were cuddled in the corner of the backseat, looking out the window. Santana's eyelids were dropping and Brittany's face was totally relaxed. It was quiet and Quinn felt a little awkward in the silence. Every move that she made produced a noise that almost seemed to echo in the car. Rachel sat beside her, her elbow propped up against the door and her fist supporting her head. It was her that had given Quinn the directions for wherever they were headed. When Quinn had asked Santana and Brittany, she had gotten nothing more than a wild list of possible destinations that Quinn cringed at. Rachel, on the other hand, had told her to head downtown. While it wasn't the most specific set of directions Quinn had ever been given, it was much better than the options of Chuck-E-Cheese and a strip club.
"You could always tell me where we're going, you know."
"Yes. But it's more amusing like this."
"Amusing?"
"Very."
Quinn groaned and looked back at the road. "If we have to reenact Driving Miss Daisy for these two again, I'm going to get you back."
"I guess I'll be sure not to find myself back in this situation."
Quinn laughed softly, glancing in the rearview mirror at her other passengers. Santana was asleep with her head leaning against the window and her mouth just barely open. Brittany had her head tilted back, looking up at the snoozing face. Quinn watched as a smile broke out across Brittany's face and she snuggled back into Santana's side.
"They're adorable." Rachel's voice captured Quinn's attention and made her break her gaze away from the girls in the back.
"Yeah, they are" Quinn said, meeting Rachel's eyes for a brief moment before looking back at the road. Because she didn't know where she was going, she felt the need to be even more alert. Normally, she was a fairly relaxed driver. She knew she was a good driver, knew that she had quick reflexes, and knew that, even if she did wreck, it would be primarily her injured. But now there were three other people in her car, a girl who refused to tell her where they were going in any way besides turn by turn, and her confidence in her driving ability was starting to wane. Probably because this was the second time she hadn't been told where they were going, but how to get there.
She squeezed the wheel tighter; forcing her mind to stay focused and quit straying to the girl sitting beside her. A week ago, Rachel was just an anonymous jogger that Quinn, for some reason, couldn't get out of her mouth. Now, Rachel was sitting beside her, leading her to some unknown destination. Funny how things happen, she thought as Rachel fidgeted in her seat. Her arm rose and she pointed to an upcoming road on the left. "This is our turn. It should be a road called New Brook. Then you'll take the next two rights. That should ensure we get there in the safest and quickest way possible."
Quinn nodded, stifling a giggle at the brunette's tone. "So, question," She said, flicking her turn signal on and slowing just a little for a smooth turn. She waited until her turn was complete to turn towards Rachel's waiting eyes. "Do you ever loosen up?"
Rachel's eyes lingered on her before redirecting her eyes out the window. She cleared her throat and Quinn wondered if she had overstepped herself with her question. There was no reason for her to think they were anywhere near enough for such a personal question.
"I do. But I have a plan. And being as outgoing as many of my peers is not a part of the plan," Her voice dropped and Quinn almost missed what she said next. "I have to stand out somehow."
Quinn just nodded to acknowledge her words, keeping her eyes on the road and preparing for the right turn she saw just ahead. She was about to completely zone out when Rachel spoke again.
"Do you always stare at joggers?"
The question wasn't particularly malicious but Quinn's stomach tensed. What the hell was she supposed to say to that? Normally, she'd fall back into the familiar Head Bitch role. She'd scheme and plot and twist the situation around to benefit her. But this was away from school and away from the people that saw her as some type of hipster Barbie. And this was someone that she, for some inexplicable reason, wanted to impress. She couldn't just twist Rachel's arm like she had been able to do with people before.
She cleared her throat and chuckled. "No, not really. I, um, was hoping you didn't remember. It's just that you run almost perfectly."
"Almost? What is keeping me from being completely perfect?"
"Your lack of confidence," Quinn said past the lump growing in her throat. She was sure Rachel hadn't meant for there to be any kind of double meaning behind her words but Quinn had made one and, though she knew Rachel couldn't read her mind, she was mortified because of it. "Most people think their self-esteem doesn't matter when they work-out. It does. It changes a lot of thing, the most important being your posture. It's barely noticeable but it can affect you in the long run. You need to work on your confidence."
Quinn glanced at Rachel as she took the next and final turn. She was quiet, looking out the window, as still as Quinn thought she could be. As she found herself doing quite often with Rachel, she wondered what was going through her head. And, as she found herself figuring out over and over again with Rachel, she was practically unreadable. She turned back towards the road and they rode in silence, Rachel looking out the window and Quinn trying not to look at her. It was hard to make Quinn feel awkward or uncomfortable but Rachel could win an award in it.
"You need to pull in here."
AN: Yeah, so, I'll probably re-upload this later. But I feel bad for taking sosososo long to post anything else again. So...where do you think Rachel would have/should have taken them? I'm willing to take any ideas into consideration.(: