A/N:I don't know where my ideas come from anymore. Also, this one's bigger than 1,000 words. Hah hah...

Rachel had been getting weird stares all day long. While used to a degree of odd looks and laughter after having been the school freak for more years than she cared to remember, the sheer amount of attention she was getting had started to concern her by third period.

When Santana came stomping up to her at the beginning of lunch, the cheerleader was almost breathing fire. Clenching her hand around one of Rachel's wrists, she dragged her into the nearest bathroom. Turning her glare onto the occupants of the room, they all quickly dispersed, leaving Rachel to watch as Santana pushed a button on her phone, waited a second, then barked out, "Q, you better get Brittany over here now, or your ass is mine. …Fucking figure it out yourself!" Growling, Santana ended the call, and Rachel suddenly found herself on the end of a full-blown HBIC glare.

"Rachel…" Santana's voice dripped with forced calmness, anger seething around and through the words, "Did you even look… In the mirror this morning…?"

Rachel frowned, not appreciating the remark at all. "Of course I did, Santana. It's an integral part of my morning routine, as I make sure that I look respectable at all times in case an agent comes to – "

Santana slamming her palm on the wall near Rachel's head made her snap her mouth shut. "Well, Rachel, you obviously didn't look hard enough."

Taking a deep breath, Rachel licked her lips. "Santana," she started again, honestly put off by the expression on the other girl's face, as well as feeling a little insulted by her statement, "This violence is not called for. It is obvious to me that you are overreacting, and you should calm down before your stress levels rise too far or you hurt yourself."

Santana stared incredulously at her. "'Overreacting,' she says," she mocked almost to herself, "Overreacting. Okay, that's it!" Wrapping her hands around Rachel's waist before she could react, Santana, in strength obviously fueled by overflowing rage, hoisted Rachel up and turned to deposit her on the bathroom counter. Her hands gripped and slid down the girl's bare legs to accomplish this, though it was made all the harder when Rachel started trying to get away and stop what was happening.

All the while squawking and spitting out rapid fire protestations, Santana grunting and yelling at her to stop fucking moving, Rachel finally overbalanced and had to catch herself with her palms against the mirror; Santana shoved her feet onto the counter a second later and let go. "You, you will not jump off or I shall do this all over again, and believe you me, I have the energy to continue doing so. You do not."

Before Rachel could respond, the door opened and Quinn and Brittany appeared. Both girls stopped and stared at Rachel, though each had different expressions. Rachel would have normally blushed at the attention, but she was too angry at the moment to even conceive of the idea of embarrassment.

"S!" Quinn all but yelled, stomping over to the other cheerleader that was currently watching with a stony face as Brittany wandered over to get a closer look at Rachel, "What the - the heck? You… You didn't have to do that! Rachel's a dancer. She can see it without giving Brittany a free show!"

At those words, Rachel squeaked and realized it was true, taking a step back until she hit the mirror. "See what?" she demanded.

When neither Santana nor Quinn seemed willing to tell her, Rachel firmed her jaw. "I will not continue standing up here until someone tells me what's going on. I am getting down, now." Crouching down a little and trying to decide how she was going to accomplish what she threatened with the least amount of area her naked hands would have to touch, Rachel almost toppled over when Brittany's fingers suddenly traced over the back of her thigh.

"Brittany! That is not an appropriate touch, and I do not appreciate – !"

"Hey, it's still here!" Sounding inordinately pleased with herself, the tall blonde once again petted Rachel's thigh.

"Yes," Santana's voice spoke witheringly, "It's still there."

"What?" Getting confused again and sure she was missing something, Rachel pushed Brittany's hand away and stood again, shuffling away from the edge. Turning slightly perpendicular to the mirror, she craned her head to see if she could see anything.

Quinn's quiet muttering was suddenly eclipsed by the ear shattering "WHAT!" that bounced and filled up the room, echoing several times. "What – but – you – Brittany! Why? When?" Jumping down, Rachel crossed her arms, happy to concentrate on anger rather than mortification.

"Uhm…" Brittany tilted her head, thinking, "I don't remember."

"I do." Santana's voice was still low and edged with anger, but she looked more tired than anything else. "Rachel, remember how you fell asleep in front of the TV on Saturday? Wearing those pajamas with the shorts? And remember how we couldn't stop giggling when you woke up?"

Red had started creeping up Rachel's neck, flowing over her face. "Ohh my goodness…" she moaned, burying her head into her hands, "No wonder everyone was staring at me all day today."

Quinn snorted. "Yeah, no wonder." When Santana glared at her, she rolled her eyes but quieted.

"I… Are you mad at me?" Brittany's hesitant question cut through the furious mumbling Rachel had been doing.

Looking up, she paused, then shook her head, sighing. "No, Brittany, I'm not. After all, though you are the person directly responsible, Quinn and Santana are both culpable, as they both did not stop you or inform me of what you had done. I would have thought my girlfriend and best friend would have known better."

Wincing at the pointed tone Rachel had used, Santana and Quinn avoided her gaze.

"Also, Santana," Rachel added, taking a step towards her girlfriend, Quinn taking the opportunity to slip away and join Brittany near the bathroom door, "While some amount of force is desirable and… Pleasurable at some times, this was certainly not one of those times. I did not appreciate being treated like a Cave Woman, and especially not with no explanation."

Santana's jaw twitched, but she nodded, eyes still downcast.

"However." Rachel took a deep breath, and a small smile appeared on her face. Taking another step forward, she grabbed Santana's hand and urged her to look up, "You can make it up to me by helping me scrub off the permanent marker."

Santana searched her eyes, slow smile growing. "In the private Cheerios shower?"

"Yes," Rachel nodded, "The private shower."

"Now?"

"Now."

And pretty soon Quinn and Brittany were left alone, the door where a cheerleader and her girlfriend who had the phrases 'Santana wuz here :)' and 'Santana wont let me here :(' written on the back of her legs had walked through in a hurry, slammed shut with a bang.