Chapter 3

Author's Note: Well, this is looooong overdue. Sorry guys, honestly. I'll try to be better about updating, especially with finals just around the corner. (For those of you curious as to why I've been incommunicado - I was sick, presumably infected by a girl in my French class...)


Jerking in surprise, Quinn pulled the phone away from her ear as her boyfriend ranted on about something she was not particularly fond of. And no, it was not the latest video game on his console, or how he really wanted to beat Sam (just once) at fantasy football. No, this was about something much bigger than those things.

"What do you mean you can't come over?" He blared through the line.

"Exactly that." She clicked her teeth together, and huffed. "Do you really need the gory details?"

He breathed, setting his controller aside. "Yeah, kind of."

She could tell he was antsy, which he probably had the right to, considering she had practically been incommunicado for days. It was surprising really to see him get so protective over her; he only seemed to do that with Rachel despite his affiliations with herself. Was it wrong to feel that pang of jealousy every time he stood up for her? They were 'friends' after all. And he certainly had more of a reason to be jealous, because if she was honest with herself (which she hadn't been very lately), she was indeed cheating on him.

"Santana and I sort of have this agreement…"

She can practically hear his eyebrow go up. "What sort of agreement?"

Obviously, with the teenage boy mind that he had, the word registered in the sexual nature. Though, it also helped that his one and only 'agreement' with the Latina, similar in the 'agreements' of his various male friends (minus Kurt, for obvious reasons) have centered around this very nature.

But apparently his girlfriend doesn't register innuendoes, perhaps due to an upbringing laced with the complete lack of sexual innuendoes, much less the ominous L word innuendoes. She answered him frankly. "We have sleepovers at her house all the time, Finn. Practically since we met."

Quinn sighed. If only he was little more like…no. She would not compare them. Finn was a great boyfriend, kind and sweet, occasionally dim and lacking emotional depth and….no. She would not think about his shortcomings, especially not the ones that Rachel more than possessed. Stupid brain.

"Fine," He sulked, and then took a deep deliberate sigh. "I'm sorry it's just…it's like we don't talk anymore – I miss you."

Blonde eyebrows furrowed in guilt.

"I love you." He continued.

"Thanks," She replied automatically, he almost whimpered for her to say something more. It snapped back at her face, the realization that is. "Oh, yeah – me too… Love you, too."

She tucked her phone in the pocket of her jacket, as she pulled into Santana's driveway with determination.


Santana always left her door open on the weekend, which was something Quinn had always protested against. Who knew who was lurking out there? Murderers perhaps or burglars, or what if her parents were to return early from their weekend endeavors and walked in on Santana and Brittany. What always puzzled her about the arrangement, however, was that the two always seemed so…intimate. How could her parents not notice? Or maybe, (and this wasn't so far fetched if you actually met Mr. and Mrs. Lopez) her parents simply didn't care she was dating a girl… Quinn was envious. If her mother even found out about her 'fake' dating Rachel, she would homeless yet again.

Lazily, Quinn dropped her bag off the foot of the staircase, abandoning her shoes as well, as she maneuvered in the Lopez den. It did not surprise her that her friends were already cuddled up on the recliner, with Brittany's face buried in the crook of Santana's neck. However, once Brittany's arm lowered…down there, she could not resist clearing her throat to seem like less of a voyeur.

"Hey, Q. Care to join us?" Brittany asked innocently as she had noticed Quinn leering at them for quite some time before she made her prescence evident.

"I'd rather not, B." The girl immediately protested. "Besides, it looks more like something that should really go on without me."

The awkward moment was intruded by the piercing sound of the doorbell. Wait, Quinn thought, looking around frantically. The three of them were already here. Who -? Apprehensively, she shot a look at Santana, who was already playing with her fingers and scanning the room with her eyes, feigning innocence.

Jumping in place, Brittany called out downstairs excitedly. "The door's open, Rachel!"

"Rachel?" Quinn mouthed lamely as Brittany passed her, jaw flapping to no avail.

Pulling her quickly into reality, the Latina slapped her on the arm, which was the Santana-esque form of friendly comfort.

"Would you believe it was another coincidence?" She asked the flustered girl, shrugging thoughtlessly. "Small world, you know?"


"You're so cute together, Q." Brittany cooed at them, and Quinn waved her off before she said anything particularly embarrassing. "You're like lobsters."

Oh, no. Too late. Her face ripened at what she assumed was yet another sexual innuendo. Though for the life of her, she couldn't understand how lobsters...Well, she had heard they were an aphrodisiac…Not that she had ever tried them with such intent.

"What was that about?" Quinn mouthed towards Santana, who was bearing that perpetual smirk of hers. The Latina shrugged innocently, though the glimmer of her eyes made Quinn increasingly wary.

Diffusing all sorts of tension, Rachel beamed, obviously aware of whatever 'lobsters' Brittany was talking about.

"What are we watching?" Rachel had asked, crossing her legs together on the floor next to Quinn. Had they gotten this close yet? To the point at which, sitting at this very close proximity was perfectly acceptable protocol? Well, they had kissed… Quinn shook her head, feeling dizzy.

"I motion the L word," The Latina coaxed at the remainder of the three girls, "All in favor?"

"What's the L word?" Quinn asked, before being promptly shushed by Brittany, of all people. But because she was Brittany, and she couldn't keep quiet herself for too long either, she added a hushed 'Lebanese'.

"Anything with Mia Kirshner is fine by me," Rachel piped in with a characteristic zeal. "She's definitely attractive."

Quinn shot her an apprehensive look. Definitely not of the jealous persuasion, she reasoned, because what did she have to be jealous about? Jealous would suggest that she had actual feeling involved in this arrangement, which she certainly did not. Did she?

Brown eyes glittered at her through the dim light, relenting a little. "Though not nearly as attractive as Quinn."

Said blonde blushed, especially when Rachel snaked a hand around her waist protectively. Brittany bit her lip to keep from saying something about how Quinn was Rachel's lobster again, instead settling on making coos at the couple deliberately.

"Not nearly as attractive my ass," Santana joked from her position on the couch, "Kirsher's a supermodel." Brittany punched her girlfriend thoroughly in the arm. "Her character's kind of a joke though."

Rachel shook her head indignantly. "Why, may I ask?"

The Latina perched her legs, eyeing the girl, whose fingers were entwined with Rachel's.

"She wavers too much, especially in the first season. She knows that she's playing for the other team but she still leads her finance on, because she wants to believe that she's straight… In the end, she doesn't even get the girl."

Rachel folded her hands in her lap thoughtfully. "Well, in the beginning it was particularly reasonable though… She was in the closet, and afraid… Had she come to terms with her sexuality sooner, she might've actually been a wonderful example of someone coming out of the 'armored closet', so to speak. And she would have definitely gotten Marina."

Blinking in surprise, Quinn shifted her weight affectionately, against the short brunette. Her eyebrows knit together for what seemed to be the millionth time this week. There was some hidden meaning here, if only she could figure it out…


They had watched the first episode of the series, one entire episode, before Rachel had seen it fit to snuggle into her shoulder and pull her in closer as they lay on the carpeted floor. It was an odd sort of silence that hovered above them, a comfortable silence, as if she no longer cared about where her hands went, or how close she held Rachel because, all at once it didn't matter. She was there. This was comfortable.

Her phone had been turned off long ago after the first time Finn had called her again asking about her 'arrangement' with Santana and what sounded like the beginning of another mailman episode. Though she hadn't actually discussed their 'agreement' on the status of her endorsement of her Prom campaign, she surprisingly didn't care as much. Maybe even after all this, Rachel would be satisfied with being just friends, friends of course, who cuddled. Because girls did that all time without any romantic feelings involved. Take Santana and Brittany for example…Okay, maybe that was a bad example. And she really couldn't picture Mercedes and Tina getting comfortable on a couch. But she was certain that this was completely naturally for two girls to do platonically.

Her arms wrapped around Rachel's form, tugging her in unfeasibly closer and she breathed in her perfume, the scent of lilac soap stirring her emotions. Rachel palmed her face suddenly, grazing the patch of skin with the pads of her fingers. And just as she was about to kiss her, Quinn could tell by the way her eyes were gleaming down at her that Rachel wanted her to, the lights flicked on fast.

She put some distance between them as Santana loomed above her, barking. "Hey, Quinn, can we discuss that thing about…Prom?"

And she jerked up, releasing Rachel's slender hand with a sigh. As they left the room, Santana winked at the brunette pooled on the floor to assure her absolutely nothing was amiss.

Once again, Santana pulled Quinn into the bathroom down the hall and proceeded to latch the door shut with precision. Menacingly, she turned to face her, but instead of the usual scowl, she beamed.

Arms crossed, she stated. She could barely contain her enthusiasm. "You're so gay,"

"I'm not gay." Quinn barked back defensively.

"Right, you're not gay." The Latina snapped back, raising a finger helpfully. "You're a lesbian. Terminology, Q. Next up – dental dams."

Quinn's face contorted distastefully at the image and she frowned. "I'm dating Finn. I'm definitely not gay, definitely not for Rachel Berry."

The blonde rippled as the Latina formed her signature scowl, making fists of her hands. She had to take a step back, preemptively.

"Then tell me about the girl in that room," She stabbed a finger in the expected direction. "Who's staring at you like she's freaking in love with you!" Santana shouted, eerily through the sudden silence. "Tell me, that that's not real. That you don't feel it! Because we all feel it!"

This was the first time. The first time she had ever seen Santana so worked up about something since that (unfortunate) incident where Artie had called Brittany stupid. Quinn certainly did not expect her outburst, and crossed her arms protectively.

"I'm not, she's not…." Quinn's voice trailed on, searching for something coherent. "It was all for a wager-"

"I'm going to stop you there Quinn, because I know you might say something you might regret." The Latina slumped against the wall with grief, almost as if she had finally given up on the situation. "You're a lesbian. The giant L word."

Sensing her capitulation, Quinn let out an explosive sigh, whispering quietly as slid beside her, against the wall. "And if I said you were right…I assume you wouldn't be surprise?"

A dark eyebrow rose, and she nodded hastily. But before Santana could jump up and down, and call Brittany to welcome the newest member to their 'big, gay family' (or as she put it - the rainbow crusaders), the patter of tiny shoes against the staircase followed by the heavy slam of a door interrupted their seclusion.


"Wait, Rachel!" Brittany's voice came after, following the sound of those gentle shoes. "It's not her fault. She's totally gay! She's just an idiot sometimes!"

Poking her head from the bathroom, Quinn frowned as Brittany tried heedlessly to wave Rachel down. But the brunette shook her head, clutching her duffle bag closely to her chest.

"Brittany, while I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing," Rachel uncharacteristically faltered at this, "It's become increasingly clear that I'm not welcome here." The words she spat out fueled the power of more words, spurring to life with each rampant breath. "Unlike your friend, I was…am still completely a lesbian. And I am….was completely in lo-"

Rachel paused, unable to finish the thought with the blonde looking at her with such innocent, watery eyes. Momentarily, she leaned into Brittany, steadying the palm of her hand against the former cheerleader's shoulder and sighing. "Listen, Brittany. It's not your fault. I know I want things way too much for my own good…Quinn being one of those things. But I actually thought that for once, just once, I actually had her. All of her." She choked. "And having the rug ripped from under you like that…it's too much."

"It's silly, really…how did I expect to land the most beautiful girl in high school by being me?" She laughed, but the sound was broken. Fishing her duffle bag off the floor, Rachel was met again with Brittany's troubled eyes. "Just tell Quinn I understand."


And after she left, with the heavy slam of the front door trailing closely behind, Quinn felt herself unable to move. Her mouth was dry; as it had been when she first discovered the pregnancy stick to be red. The stick that told her she would be just another teenage statistic. Vaguely, she felt Santana snake her way around her shoulder and mutter something along the lines of:

"I think she heard us."