It's Friday before I can bring myself to approach Quinn. Honestly, Brittany's little declaration had me kind of rattled. I knew that I would have to face Quinn eventually because I, Santana Lopez am whipped. All Brittany has to do it turn those baby blues in my direction and I'm at her beckoned call. It's with Brittany in mind that I approach Quinn under the bleachers where she's hanging out with her new 'friends'.

Quinn's surrounded these skanks when she spots me. Every single girl is leaning against one surface or another with a cigarette in hand. Now I'm pretty badass. I run this school because I am a hard bitch and I take no prisoners. But if it came to a real scrap there is no way I could take a single one of these girls. I would be nothing but a pile of whimpering bruises on the floor. The only reason that I'm HBIC and not one of these girls is because they don't want the title.

So it's with a certain amount of trepidation that I walk into the shadows under the bleachers holding my head high and trying to appear nonchalant as I quietly loose my shit. One of the girls tosses her cigarette at the ground when she spots me approaching.

"Hey Q I think you've got another visitor."

"Another?" I'd honestly thought I would have been the first to brave this particular den of despair. I'm a little worried that Britt might have beaten me to the punch. I have some serious trouble imagining the bubbly blonde facing this group. I imagine it would go something along the lines of Hi I'm Brittany and I'm a Bicorn and I'm pretty sure you are all unicorns which makes us all almost related so we should be friends! I shudder at the though of what these girls could do to her. Britt is a beautiful, inteligent person who wants to believe the best of people but sometimes her naiveté can scare the shit out of me.

"Rachel has already tried Santana," Quinn doesn't bother looking at me when she speaks, finding her own finger nails infinitely more interesting than anything else. I know this technique. I perfected this technique. It means she's listening.

Wait a freaking goddamned minute. Berry has already propositioned Q for sex? "Okay first up: when did you start calling her anything but manhands? And second: Berry already came to you for sex?"

"What the hell are you on about Santana? She came to get me to rejoin glee." Quinn was wearing the same fucked-if-I-care expression she had when Britt and I asked her to rejoin Cheerios.

I hadn't even thought of Glee Club after Mr Schue had kicked me out following the little purple piano...incident. Honestly? I'd kinda been doing my best to not think about it. It's not like I'd wanted to hurt anybody with my little pyrotechnics. And the dance number I had my Cheerios rocking behind Blain's little sing along was fucking hot. So I'm pretty sure everyone is totally overreacting.

I focus on Quinn because I need to get the hell away from these Skanks. And into a shower. "Look Q I'm not here about Glee. If you want to waste away in this," I glance around at the other Skanks, calculating my chances of getting out alive if I openly insulted them. "in this particular...venue, then that's your purgatory." Why yes I do appreciate a good word play. Like Britt's ballad/mallard joke? Genius!

Quinn walks towards me, tossing her cigarette away. That smirk is firmly in place and I nearly lose what cool i'd been able to maintain. She takes yet another step towards me, effectively invading my personal space. "What exactly are you doing here Santana?"

"Fine Q, I'll keep this short. And not just because it smells like feet and weed down here," I try not to flinch when I here one of the Skanks crack her knuckles. "You're Mom has gone away on her annual Jesus Booze Cruise this year right?" Quinn just raises one delicate eyebrow. I take this as a yes. Judy hadn't missed that cruise the whole time I've known the Fabrays. I couldn't imagine her missing it for something as petty as a divorce. "Well don't make any plans tonight because you and me. We're gon get our drink on."

She rolls her eyes in a move I'm pretty sure she stole from me. "And what if I'm not gonna be home S? Maybe I have something better to do with my night than listen to you bitch about glee club or cheerios or whatever."

I try not to let any anger show, "And I wouldn't ordinarily try to cut into your new brooding time or whatever but..." I sigh finally glancing away from her eyes. "Britt thinks we need some quality time," I look back into her eyes. "Look, you won't even have to talk to me ok. I'll bring the booze, you just have to unlock your front door."

"Well with an invitation like that."

I know that's a yes. "Make sure you have mixers."

I rock up on the Fabray's doorstep at 5. It suddenly occurs to me to wonder if it's still the 'Fabray' house if Judy goes back to her maiden name. And what about Quinn? Will she still want to be a Fabray? Her father was the one to kick her out when she needed him most. Mind you, Judy wasn't exactly rushing to Quinn's defense either.

I knock on the door. There's a bellow of 'come in' from somewhere in the house. Apparently I'm meant to let myself in so I do, pushing open the door and closing it behind me with a slam.

"I brought Vodka Q! I'm just gonna go put it in the—" I cut myself off as I walk into the kitchen because Quinn is right there at the breakfast bar. She has her chemistry text book in front of her. I scoff. Of course the whole rebel without a cause look is just a smoke screen. She's still the same little miss perfect test scores.

Although. I had heard a rather fascinating story from one of the Cheerios after school. Apparently Quinn had rocked into English ten minutes late. When the teacher had tried to ask her where she'd been Quinn had flipped him the bird, told him to mind his own fucking business and sat down to read something entirely non-syllabus. The truly remarkable thing according to the cheerio(who's name I flatly cannot remember) was that Quinn had gotten away with it. Assed if anyone knows how she got away with it but she did. Not even a detention. She just gave Mr Henry that cold-as-fuck Quinn Fabray stare and he all but buckled in his chair.

Yet here she is just hours later dutifully doing her homework after just one day of school. Like a chump.

"Seriously Q? Are you doing your homework right now?"

"Yes Santana," she says without bothering to look up at me. "And you might want to think about doing yours. SATs are coming up and you know just as well as I do that college is our best chance of getting the fuck out of Lima."

I can't help but glance around the kitchen once just to make sure that Russell Fabray wasn't still lurking somewhere. That man had an uncanny ability to hear cussing from a mile away. I had been boxed around the ears by that bastard more times than I could count. Quinn's new vocabulary Is going to be an adjustment.

"Okay miss GPA, what about that little incident in English today? One of the girls said you put on quite a show." I didn't have to say my source was a Cheerio. Quinn's a bright girl.

"Mr Henry is an idiot."

"So you decided to cuss him out so you could what? Enjoy his idiocy in detentions as well?"

"Everyone knows he's an idiot, I was just the one to call him out on it. I'm already reading at college level S. I Can pass my English exams without his assistance."

"So why do you even show up."

Quinn looks honestly stumped for a moment. She shrugs, "Habit."

I'm bored with this conversation and I really need a drink before I can bring up Britt's little plan so I move to the fridge to find a mixer. Quinn's well stocked up on orange juice so I'm thinking she's as much up for a drink as I am. She shuts her text book and puts everything into the bag at her feet as I grab two glasses from the cupboard above the bench. I crack ice into the glasses from the tray I'd grabbed with the orange juice and pore in a healthy slosh of vodka. Once the orange juice is topped up I take a long swig from one glass and hand Quinn the other. She takes it without argument and sculls it in one.

Apparently it's going to be one of those nights.

I finish my drink and refill my glass along with Quinn's. She picks up the vodka bottle and moves towards the living room. I follow with the orange juice and ice tray.

Quinn flicks on the TV and flops into the couch. She's wearing a more relaxed version of her new hobo skank wear. Denim cutoff shorts paired with a loose Tshirt which had the sleeves rolled up. "do you want to watch a movie or something?"

I realise that my cheerios uniform is starting to really annoy me so I tell her to pick whatever she wants to watch and grab my bag from the kitchen before heading to the bathroom to change.

I lock the door behind me once i get into the bathroom. I'm nervous. I shouldn't be fucking nervous but I am. I don't know how to deal with this new Quinn. Brittany's idea is seeming more and more ridiculous but I can't see any way out of it. I somehow have to talk her into having sex. I have to talk her into having sex with a girl. A girl that she probably doesn't like so much right now. I mean we're still best friends but I've barely seen her in months and If I'm honest with myself I know I let us grow apart when I was in the midst of my little gay panic at the end of Junior Year. Not to mention she was in a whole other world of Prom Queen crazy at the time.

So now here I am staring at myself in the mirror of the downstairs bathroom of the Fabray Manor freaking the fuck out. My pep talk skills have seriously atrophied under Coach Sue's tutelage so right now all I have running through my head is Sue's voice. 'You think this is hard? Try teaching evolution to a young Sarah Palin. Now that's hard.' Oddly enough that actually helps. It reminds me that I'm Santana Fucking Lopez.

That's right. I am Santana Lopez and I am the hottest lay at McKinley. Four month sexual hiatus or not I can rock the most pious of virgin's world.

I smile ironically at the thought that Quinn practically still is a virgin. Aside from the whole carrying Pucks mutant spawn for 9 months. The actual conception part is something that still boggles the mind. Although I am forcibly reminded of the other rumor around school. The one about Quinn dating a thirty year old skateboarder. Maybe she's a little less virginal these days. Hell i've never dated anyone that old. Maybe she'll be able to show me some tricks. I chuckle at this thought as I pull my Hives Tshirt on with a pair of old gym shorts.

I pull my hair out of the tight high pony tail and shake out the strands so the locks fall loosely around my shoulders. I take one last glance in the mirror, brace myself and open the door to return to the living room.

Quinn's cradling a drink which I suspect must be her third, possibly her fourth going by the way she put down the first drink. "Took your time Lopez. I picked Mean Girls."

Classic sleepover chick flick. I can't disapprove though. That Christmas dance scene is awkwardly pretty hot.

"Shove over Fabray." I sit down next to her on the couch, just a little closer than I ordinarily would. If I'm gonna be making moves. I'm gonna be making moves. I grab my drink from where i left it on the coffee table and drink it quickly so I can pour another. The vodka is starting to neutralize my taste buds which is a-okay with me.

We watch the movie in silence as we sip at our drinks. I'm watching Quinn from out the corner of my eye trying to figure her out. She seems so relaxed right now. Like, more relaxed than I've ever seen her. Hang on.

"Q are you stoned?"

She looks at me with a stern expression. A stern expression that starts to crack with a slight flicker in one cheek. Her mouth twitches and then suddenly she snorts and cracks up laughing.

Yup. Definitely stoned.

"Oh my god Q. What about that little speech about doing homework? Or did you light up while I was getting changed?" I took a deep breath and couldn't smell anything untoward. Just the usual smells of carpet and upholstery cleaner. Quinn just keeps giggling at me. I have no idea how she could have held it in for this long if she'd been high when I arrived.

Finally she calms down enough to wipe at her eyes and actually speak, "I have some brownies in the kitchen. You want some?"

I'm completely gob smacked. "Where the fuck did you get hash brownies Quinn Fabray?"

"I lived with Puck while I was pregnant remember? He took me on one of his pickups once and I kept the contact. I wasn't smoking anything then obviously or even last year. But I decided to give it a try over the summer. Mr Ryerson was pretty sympathetic of my plight as teen mom statistic with a new attitude."

"Ryerson?" that means that it's going to be some pretty good stuff, and relatively safe. "Yeah I'll take some Fabray." I know I can't have too much because on top of the alcohol I'd be fucked. But a little extra buzz could be good right now.

Quinn leaves the movie running as she leads me back into the kitchen. There on the kitchen bench was a plate I had managed to miss when I was in here before. A veritable tower of chocolate brownies. We both brought our drinks so neither of us hesitate to sit down at the breakfast bar. True fact about Quinn Fabray: she can bake. She can bake, cook, clean and keep house like the good little Stepford Wife-to-be she is. Although, I cant help but wonder if that's all still on the cards considering her recent change in attitude.

I gingerly pick up one of the chocolate creations.

Oh. My. God.

I refuse to let out the orgasmic groan that threatens to escape me as I take my first bite of Brownie. Quinn has surpassed herself. "Damn Q, I knew we kept you around for something."

Quinn is already half way through her own brownie so she is talking through a mouthful of chocolate mush when she asks, "Are you going to tell me why you're here Santana? Britt got you in the doghouse? What have you done this time?"

I'm ready to snap at her and tell her that she doesn't know what she's taking about but I resist the impulse. Quinn must have known about me Brittany's...relationship and she had always just ignored it. I realised now that that was her way of...accepting us. She never said anything to us or to anyone else. She'd told Coach Sylvester about my boob job to get her spot back at the top of the pyramid but she had never used what she knew about me and Brittany. Not that Coach would have cared. I'm pretty sure she's know for nearly as long as Q has. But Quinn could have gossiped with the rest of the squad, with the football team and ruined us. But she didn't. I now realise how grateful I am for that.

So now that Quinn is talking to me about my relationship with Brittany as though it's perfectly normal and just part of our day I decide to answer her honestly. "I'm not in the doghouse. Not really, we just...aren't ready for," I search for the least awkward word to use. "intimacy. Yet." yeah still awkward.

Quinn looks at me like I've just said the stupidest thing imaginable, "What do you mean not ready? You two have been screwing like rabbits since we were fifteen."

I roll my eyes, really not wanting to elaborate, "Yeah Q, I know that obviously and that's what makes this really fucking hard," I glance around avoiding eye contact again. "I mean that after everything that happened with Britt and The Legless Wonder plus me and Karofsky, we aren't back to being what we were." I hesitate again, shoving a brownie in my mouth to avoid looking at Quinn. "And you know what Q, we aren't going back to how we were cause," and I literally can't believe these words are about to come out of my mouth. "I was fucking miserable then. Screwing around with guys. Watching Brittany mack on with other people and pretending that it didn't hurt. It was horrible." I took a deep calming breath.

Quinn nods solemnly as she picks up another brownie and offers the plate to me—probably just for something to do. "So you're in love with her."

It's not a question but I nod anyway, taking another brownie.

She's smiling now and I can actually feel fucking years in my eyes. God I've turned into such a sucker. I need to take this conversation back NOW.

"So what about you Q? Any future ex-husbands in the wood work?" I feel like I need to see some sign that Brittany could be right about Quinn's pressed lemon, unicorn theory.

She hesitates before answering, "No, there's no one 'in the wood work'" She actually uses air quotes as she mimics me. The gender neutrality of the statement gives me small pause but I really need more. "So what happened to that skateboarder?"

She gives me a scornful look, "Come on S you know as well as I do that not all rumors are true."

"Yeah I do. I also know as well as anyone that sometimes the rumors are completely true." Just the thought of that muckraker article headline still makes my stomach tighten.

"Yeah I guess you do. But Jimmy was just a friend."

"A grinding, hot sex kind of friend?"

She rolls her eyes, "No. More like, he taught me not to be such a fucking pussy type friend actually. He had an...interesting philosophy on life. We hung out, got stoned a lot. That's all."

"But you had sex a lot?"

"Jesus Christ Santana. Do you want to hear what I learned from him?," I nod, cause why not right. "I learned that being smart or super pretty or even any kind of sane doesn't matter in the end."

"When were you any kind of sane?" I shouldn't have said that but it's too late now so I'm sticking with it. Quinn's arching up ready for a throw down but I cut her off. "So the point is that you weren't seeing anyone of the summer?" she cools down almost immediately. Thank fuck for those brownies.

"Nope." She let the end of the word out with a pop. I'm totally thrilled with monosyllabic answers. Really.

"And you aren't seeing anyone now?"

"Why do you care so much Santana?"

I've realised that I'm going to have to just dive in if I'm going to do this. I just can't seem to work this Quinn out. She's a complete mystery to me which basically means that I have no chance of manipulating her. And if I'm about to get blunt, I'm going to need more alcohol.

I Finnish the drink I've been cradling and rush out to the living room to grab the vodka and orange juice. Mean Girls is still playing and I have to laugh as the gym teacher tells everyone that they will get chlamydia and die if they have sex.

Quinn is waiting with one eyebrow raised as I rush back into the kitchen. I refill my drink and hers, taking a big gulp. I wince because I've pretty much pored more vodka than orange into my glass.

I don't know where she gets her fucking patience from because she asked me a question like five minutes ago and I still haven't answered it.

I take a deep breath and look directly into her eyes. I probably shouldn't have done that but I power forward anyway.

"Quinn."

"Santana."

"Don't be a smart-ass."

"Stop being a weirdo."

"I'm trying to be serious here."

"I'm getting that."

I take another drink and shudder at the alcohol. It's good though as I feel a little calmer. "Brittany feels..." I'm staring intently into my glass hunting for the right words. "Britt thinks itwouldbe a goodideaforus tohavesex." I rush it out as though it would hurt less.

"Come again?"

I smirk at the unintended pun, "That's what she said?"

Quinn snorted and then giggled. This set me off in my own bout of giggles. Suddenly we're both laughing so hard we can barely breath. We're clutching at each other, trying to stay upright on the high chairs were sitting on without tipping them over. We laugh for ten minutes straight. Every time we start to get calmed down we make eye contact and just start laughing again.

Finally, we've exhausted ourselves so our chuckles are just coming in short, intermittent bursts. I finally manage to get out a few words, "So what do you say?"

Quinn sighs leisurely, "About what?"

"About Brittany's idea."

"What idea?"

"That we should have sex."

"Well of course you and Brittany should have sex if that's what you want."

"No Fabray. You and I should have sex." I gesture between the both of us to make myself clear. Suddenly Quinn looks very sober.

"What the fuck Santana?"

"Hey I'm just relaying a message."

"I can't fucking believe you Santana. After everything you've been through this year?"

"Look Punk Princess Barbie. Would you halt the hostility? I'm trying to open up a dialogue here," Quinn rolled her eyes but Santana ignored her and continued. "whether I like it or not Q, you are all kinds of hot in this new..." I gesture to her general physical self. "look or whatever. Britts thinks that it would be an excellent idea for us to cut through all our bullshit and get our sexy on. Together. And as shudder inducing as the prospect sounds in principle, you know just as well as I do that what Brittany wants, Brittany gets."

Quinn is still fuming quietly but I know that she's listening so I continue, "We've always had some mad chemistry Q. Remember that fight we had after you told coach about my surgery? That fight's going down in the history books at McKinley. The stuff of legends. And not cause it was some cat fight. It's cause it was us. And we are both hot bitches." I don't even know what I'm saying anymore but Quinn hasn't interrupted me yet. "So if we can just skip some of that angsty crap and take some sexual scissors—no pun intended—to the tension in the room? You know that shit is going to be hot." I'm on a roll. It's completely amazing that Quinn hasn't slogged me yet. "And since neither of us can be with who we want to be with..." I shrug as if to say 'a' plus 'b' equals hot sex.

Quinn looks up at this, "Wait wait wait. What do you think I'm still into Finn? No freaking way. After dumping me at a freaking funeral. I'd rather die."

"Finnept? No way—and don't think I'm not ecstatic that you're over the Jolly Green Giant—but no not who I was talking about," at this point the alcohol has completely removed the filter between brain and mouth. "I'm waiting for Brittany and you're waiting for Berry. I don't personally get the whole hobbit fetish but each to their own cause—faaark!" and Quinn has put me to the floor.

One minute I'm on my chair thinking everything is under control and then Fabray loses it. Not that I can't appreciate the urge to slap someone down but jesus, that bitch could have killed me. As it is, she's seriously knocked the wind out of me. And falling from a high bar stool to tiles: fucking hurts.

"What the hell Santana? I mean seriously? You seriously think I've got the hots for...for...God!" She's practically screeching at me as I try to scramble to my feet. My years of falling from various levels of the pyramid has given me a certain tolerance for being winded so I'm able to gain my balance relatively quickly. But not before Quinn has lined up her arm for a full slap. And it is on like fucking Donkey Kong. I'm not normally an angry drunk but this bitch is making tonight an exception.

She's shoved me into he kitchen cabinet by the door and I decide that we should probably move this particular tussle away from kitchen implements. Knives, pans and electrical good do not a good fistfight make. And this is a fistfight. Like full bodied. I grab Quinn and drag her out of the kitchen, doing my best to hurl her into the next room. Lucky for me all of my fat joke and calling her tubbers and stretch marks is just talk and the girl is light as a feather. Just like me, she's all lean muscle and bone. She hits the floor but rolls away before I can jump on top of her. She slaps me across the face and I shove her in the chest.

"Just face it Q. You're all kinds if hot and bothered for Berry and there is nothing that you would like more than to get her naked and—" she makes a lunge at me and pushes me into the wall. We're stuck in the hallway outside the kitchen so it's a short few steps for me to shove her against the opposite wall.

She is seriously pissed but the tone and volume of her voice has mercifully lowered, "You really don't know what you're talking about Lopez."

"Oh please, you wants under that tiny skirt and that's why you're such a fucking bitch."

We're nearly at a standstill, both exhausted with our arms locked. Neither of us can manage to throw off the other and we're breathing hard.

"Just because you couldn't deal with the fact that your a lesbian and had to hide it for so many years doesn't mean that every bitch in the hallways is repressed Santana!"

"And just because you went off the deep end and decided to change everything about your personality over the summer doesn't mean that me and B don't still know you Quinn."

Suddenly the fight goes out of both of us and we slump to the floor. We're both breathing heavily and I can feel a bruise coming up on my jaw. And my tail bone. It makes me feel a little better that I can see a bruise coming up on Quinn's left temple. She also has a split lip. We stare at each other, each waiting for the other to speak first.

I clear my throat. She opens her mouth. I stop. She stops.

"Sorry I was a bitch," We both say together. We smile. Then she giggles. And suddenly we're both laughing so hard our ribs could crack under the strain of it. We're both still slightly tangled so when I fall towards the floor Quinn just comes with me, her head landing on my shoulder. We're still chuckling, lying on our backs and I'm trying to catch my breath. My breath eventually starts to slow down and I find myself staring at the patterns in the ceiling.

The house is Quiet except for the low hum of the television in the living room. I can hear both of us breathing softly and suddenly I want nothing more than to sleep for a few hours. I'm lying on my back and It's surprisingly comfortable on the thick rug that runs the length of the hall. Quinn shuffles next to me so that she is lying on her side so her head resting comfortably on my shoulder and her arm is thrown over my waist. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and interlace my fingers with hers where they rest on my waist.

Ours is a complicated relationship.

Quinn is the first to speak again, "Does it really seem like I'm crushing on Rachel?"

I notice again the way that Quinn says 'Rachel'. It really does feel kind of...loving.

I try to choose my words carefully but the intoxicants in my bloodstream make it difficult to be anything other than blunt. Hell being Me makes it difficult to be anything other than blunt, "I think that you have been in a passionate relationship with Rachel Berry for a long time Q," she nods into my shoulder. "And I think that the way that you look at her, and the way that you treat her..." I can't remember where I was going with this but I think of Brittany when I continue, "I think that when you're ready...You could be happy with her." She nods again but when I glance down I see that her eyes are closed and her breathing has slowed down. She's asleep.

I let my own eyes close and pray that shit won't get weird when we wake up

I promise. Sexy times are on their way :)