SUNDAY
"When you wake up, I'm going to do such dirty things to you." Santana heard her wife's voice whisper in her ear pulling her from a dreamless sleep.
The comment never failed to bring a smile to her lips. Even in the deepest grip of unconsciousness, Charlie could rouse her with a couple of words. "Only if I let you." She retorted, groaning as a flood of pain from her shoulder washed over her.
"I know, it hurts like fuck." Charlie slipped something into her hands that felt suspiciously like pain pills.
Not bothering to check, Santana swallowed them dry. Her eyes shot open and found her wife looking at her carefully. "What about your knee?"
Charlie shrugged. "It's fixed, I'm sure."
Santana looked down at the limb and gasped at the already deep purple swollen mess. They had spent hours waiting around for an MRI before being told that Charlie's knee was indeed just a sprain and had only made it back to the hotel a few hours before. Charlie's hair was flattened on one side, the other sticking nearly straight up in the air. "You look terrible!"
"Thanks." Charlie frowned and tried to flatten her bed-head. "You don't look much better."
Santana winced, well aware that her own shoulder probably looked gross. "Why the hell did you let your sisters convince us to do something stupid, again."
"It wasn't my idea to cater to Brittany, again."
Santana blinked at her wife. "Seriously. It wasn't mine either. Your parents and sisters showed up on our porch. What was I supposed to do?"
"Tell them to leave us the hell alone." Charlie groused.
"She's your sister." Santana rolled her eyes, perfectly aware that Charlie would have gone along with whatever Brittany's plan was anyway. "But we should have been done yesterday when I discovered new holes in my body."
"We are fifteen thousand dollars richer." Charlie pointed out. She was tired and in pain and probably far more cranky than she should be. And Santana's 'new holes' were hot, so what the fuck was she complaining about?
"Probably only half of that after taxes." Santana retorted.
Charlie shook her head. "Still, even seven thousand bucks is a lot of money. I don't know why you're complaining."
"I'm not complaining, I'm just way too old to be running around drunk off my ass like a twenty-two year old co-ed."
"Maybe that's part of the problem." The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Santana stepped back. "Excuse me?"
Charlie winced. "That came out wrong." She shook her head and tried to stick to the point. "I just mean, what's wrong with having a little fun? Maybe Quinn and Britt are right. We could use a little excitement. We have been stuck in a rut a little."
"Excitement?" Santana scoffed. "Your sister sent us to a furry convention. If that is your definition of a little excitement then—"
"It was your ex-girlfriend who maimed us." Charlie retorted, cutting Santana off before she could finish.
Santana prickled. She hated being interrupted. "My ex-girlfriend is only hanging out with us this weekend because your sister is an obsessed eleven year old fan-girl."
"My sister is an idiot." Charlie allowed without hesitation. "But she's only acting like a fan-girl because your ex-girlfriend is Rachel Fucking Berry."
"As opposed to what? The literally hundreds of women you have slept with?"
"Not all of us can be virgins from po-dunk Ohio."
A knock sounded at their hotel room door, silencing the fight. Both knew it was far from over, but neither was willing to continue it with an audience. Santana hobbled to the door, her ankle still sore and swollen from the day before to find Quinn, Brittany, and Rachel standing expectantly in the doorway.
Quinn pushed past Santana and addressed her sister. "What should we do today?"
Charlie narrowed her eyes, watching her wife for any sort of wince as a result of Quinn's exuberance. Seeing none, she sighed and ran her hands through her hair. "I don't think I can take anymore of your fun."
Her wife nodded and chuckled lowly, glad that at least about this they were both in agreement. "Me neither. Maybe we just go home and tell your parents thank you?"
"No!" Brittany insisted, not willing to let go of this weekend. Last night had been far from 'epic'. Maybe she had cursed them by thinking it would be. Quinn and Rachel had just talked most of the night, eventually both claiming they were too tired. She had then listened to a nearly ten minute exchange of how wonderful it was that they had rooms at the same hotel. It almost made her miss Charlie and Santana—almost. "You can't do that yet. You don't have to get back until tomorrow."
Charlie rolled her eyes, and pointed to her leg "This is what happens when we try to have fun. I think I have had enough to last a lifetime."
Rachel looked back and forth between the others. Waking up with Quinn next to her had been the best moment of her life. But now Quinn was acting skittish and if it wasn't for a drunken promise from last night that she only hazily remembered, and Quinn's insistence from Friday night, she might bid the group adieu.
But if something could work out with Quinn, maybe things would be okay.
Maybe she didn't need Finn after all.
"What if we did something more relaxed. We could go to a spa?" She offered. Seeing Santana's skepticism she hurriedly added, "My treat."
"That sounds like fun." Quinn responded immediately, then seemed to blush and shake her head. "I mean, if everybody else wants to."
Brittany laughed and threw her arms around her sister. Delighted that their time was not going to meet some premature end. Also, she filed this moment away for when she needed good teasing material. Quinn was whipped and she didn't even really know Rachel. It was hilarious. "If it means that I don't have to go back to Mom and Dad's until tomorrow, it sounds perfect."
Santana grabbed Charlie's crutches and helped her wife to her feet. "It sounds like torture." She muttered. "But—"
"We'll do it." Charlie insisted, giving Santana a look.
It took them longer than any of them would have liked to make it to the elevator and the waiting cab. With Charlie on crutches and Santana hobbling along after her, they looked more like a funeral party than a group ready for the next adventure. Eventually, they made their way to the exclusive spa Rachel had heard about and made their reservations.
"Maybe we can split up too, and spend some quality time together?" Quinn suggested.
Charlie arched her brow. "Fine, Santana and I will go together—"
"No!" Quinn cleared her throat. "I mean, I thought maybe we could spend time as sisters—"
Brittany pulled a face and Charlie just watched her sister. "You want me, to send my wife to spend time with her ex-girlfriend and get a couple's massage?"
Quinn frowned. When she put it that way, "Okay, maybe we all stick together then."
"Great idea." Rachel beamed, feeling a sense of relief when Quinn blushed at the praise.
Maybe everything would be okay after all.
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It didn't take long for them to get situated within the spa. Despite Rachel's insistence on paying for it, Santana grumbled that they each would pay for themselves, unwilling to accept her ex-girlfriend's charity. They were led to a small room where the massages would later take place. Each received a facial, and though Charlie was initially a little hesitant at how the greenish goop would feel, she found that she didn't mind it so much.
What she did mind was Rachel's phone going on every five minutes.
"Can you just answer it?" She asked after the second time. She couldn't take that ring tone anymore
Brittany groaned. "Yeah, this is supposed to be relaxing."
"You don't have to answer it if you don't want to." Quinn assured Rachel.
Rachel beamed at the support.
"Just answer the damn phone."
She rolled her eyes, annoyed that after so long Santana could still boss her around. Maybe Quinn was right. Maybe Santana was incredibly bossy.
"What do you need Finn?" She didn't bother to hide her irritation at the caller.
'You answered.' She could practically hear his grin. 'That means you forgive me, right?'
"No Finn, I do not forgive you."
'Why not?'
"Why not?" She scoffed. "Do you really need to ask me that?"
'Well I said I was sorry.'
She couldn't believe this. "I don't care. I'm busy."
'Where are you?' He asked, and she could almost hear the annoyance in his voice. 'I'll come and get you.'
She bristled. What right did he have to try to control her like this? "With Santana. I don't need you to come and get me. I'm just fine on my own."
'Santana? That bitch from before we were together?'
"Yes, the bitch I cheated on to be with you. Did you know she's happily married? With kids?"
'She sounds boring.'
"I am sitting right here." Santana held up her hands and pulled the cucumbers off her eyes. "Leave me out of this." She glanced over to see Charlie munching on the fruit. She hissed, throwing her arm out to get her wife's attention. "Stop that."
"What?" Charlie asked her defensively. "I'm hungry."
"We'll get lunch later." Santana promised.
Quinn frowned, how dare Santana tell Charlie what to do? She wasn't some dictator that Charlie had to listen to. Charlie was a grown up woman who could make her own choices. "You don't have to listen to her." Quinn murmured when Santana turned away and relaxed against the comfortable bed.
Charlie scoffed. "They weren't that good anyway." She shrugged.
"No, Finn!" Rachel shook her head. "It's not just that you cheated, it's that you seem to have no remorse for it."
'I feel bad about it, if that's what you mean.'
"You feel bad because you got caught." Rachel couldn't believe this. "It is bad enough that you slept with someone else. But you didn't even wear a condom!"
'It's fine, she—'
"It's not fine. Don't call me anymore, I've moved on." She said with finality.
Quinn smiled. "You have?"
Rachel blushed but turned to her ex-girlfriend. "Santana, if this is even a fraction of what you felt when we terminated our relationship, I have to apologize. The sting of betrayal is so sharp, I never had considered how my actions may have made you feel."
Santana remained un-moving on the bed, her chest rising and falling evenly.
"Santana?"
Charlie smirked. Sure, it was petty. But seeing Rachel knocked down a peg was definitely worth it.
"Did you fall asleep?" Rachel huffed and stomped her foot. Honestly. No wonder she and Santana hadn't been able to work it out. She slid off her own massage bed and walked up to the other woman. She pulled Santana's ear, the only practiced way she knew to rouse Santana from a nap.
"Ow! What the hell was that for?" Santana plucked the cucumbers from covering her eyes.
"You weren't listening to me!" Rachel defended.
"In case you didn't notice, we're supposed to be relaxing. Not paying attention to the 'greatest thing that ever happened to acting'." Santana mocked, rubbing her ear. This was all too familiar, and it was a little weird to argue like this.
Rachel huffed. "I'm trying to apologize!"
"Oh." Santana sat up straighter, then furrowed her brow. "For what?"
Rachel's jaw dropped. "For breaking your heart, betraying your trust. I have had the bitter taste of karma remind me that sometimes the deepest betrayals can never be forgiven—"
"Rachel." Santana tried to interrupt, but the actress was on a role.
"—however, I will do my very best to regain your trust even if we can never rekindle our romantic relationship—"
"Rachel!" Santana nearly shouted, stopping the rant before it could get more awkward. "Look. Did you hurt me? Yes. But honestly, it was probably the best thing that ever happened to me."
Rachel blinked in disbelief. That wasn't possible.
Santana rolled her eyes. "Do you actually think we would have lasted any longer in our relationship? By the end, we were just holding on because that's what everybody expected from us."
"We were happy—you were happy." Rachel pointed out.
"No. I wasn't." She shook her head. "And if we had stayed together, you would have resented me for holding you back. I was miserable in the acting program. I never would have had the courage to leave if you hadn't been with Finn."
"So I helped you." Rachel brightened at the thought.
Santana gritted her teeth. "That's what you get out of this? No Rachel, you didn't do me any favors. You betrayed me. You hurt me worse than anyone ever has. But I got over it. I met Charlie that same day and we've been married for seven years. I got over you and I am so much better for it."
Quinn did the math, ticking her fingers as she counted backward. "Seven? You've only been married for six years." She huffed. What woman didn't know how long they had been married.
Charlie and Santana shared a glance. "Right." Santana nodded slowly. "Six years, whatever."
Brittany, however, noticed the exchanged and poked her sister. "Whatever?" She asked.
Charlie looked at Santana for help but her wife was busy staring down Rachel as if daring her to continue. She shrugged and glanced at the bowl situated between herself and her wife. Slowly reaching for another cucumber, she nodded only to have her hand slapped by Santana without the brunette ever deviating her gaze.
Quinn looked between the two of them, waiting for an explanation. Finding none she growled and threw up her hands. "You two are ridiculous. There is no way you eloped without telling mom and dad."
"Mom and Dad?" Charlie scoffed. "They were our witnesses. You were the one we wanted to keep from going all crazy jealous."
"I DO NOT GET CRAZY JEALOUS." Quinn screamed. Taking a few deep breaths, she realized how that looked. "But your wedding was beautiful."
"And big, and traditional, and not planned by us." Santana noted. "So excuse us for doing something for ourselves."
Charlie grinned at the memory. Their real wedding had been perfect. Small, with just her and Santana's parents and Dani at the diner where they met. The second had been an extravagant affair, the wedding of the decade as Quinn had dubbed it, with nearly a thousand people.
She had always been grateful during that circus that she could remember the way that Santana looked at their real wedding, in jeans and a t-shirt.
That had been perfect.
She snuck a couple more slices of cucumber and wondered when she could take the gunk off her face.
Why would people do this, on purpose?
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"We only have three pedicure seats available together. There are two on the other side of the room." The blonde manager of the floor informed them.
Santana glanced down at the name tag. "Listen, Kitty—"
"That will be perfect." Quinn answered for them.
Santana bit her lip, feeling her irritation grow. "I'm not sitting by Rachel. And Charlie is not hobbling all the way over there."
"What are you, five?" Quinn retorted. "It's just a couple of hours. Or can you not stand to be away from Charlie that long? Who else would be your whipping girl?"
Santana's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Quinn, back off." Charlie spoke up, more concerned that her wife was going to kill Quinn than anything else.
"Why don't Santana and I take the seats over there?" Brittany offered, not really wanting to spend anymore time with Rachel either. "Then you three can stay here?"
Charlie groaned, but didn't really see the point in arguing. Quinn had her mind set on something so she might as well go along with it. "Sure."
Quinn blanched but had lost her pretense to slip away from Rachel. It wasn't that she wanted to get away from the other woman—it was—well—she was freaking out. She wasn't gay. That was Charlie. Charlie had known from the time she was six that she wanted to marry a woman so it came as no shock when she came out to their family around their junior year.
She was too old for gay panic.
She was fine.
She was just—okay, she was definitely panicking.
Santana and Brittany made their way to the available chairs.
Quinn practically tossed Charlie into the open chair that was in the middle as a barrier between Rachel and herself.
Meanwhile across the room, Brittany was bemoaning her lost relationship yet again. "I was just so surprised to find Blaine—"
Santana was done. This is all Brittany wanted to talk about. She could see her wife shift uncomfortably as Quinn probably placed another undercutting barb. "Were you really surprised? Really? All the times he wanted to do butt stuff—"
"Butt stuff." Brittany snorted. That sounded ridiculous.
Santana continued. "None of that gave you any idea—"
"No!" Brittany shook her head. "I mean, sure he checked out other guys at the beach or at the gym and he liked to be penetrated, but what guy doesn't—"
"Straight guys." Santana explained slowly. "Straight guys don't check out guys at the gym."
Brittany scoffed. "No—"
"She's right, honey." The man at her feet remarked, picking up her left foot to begin with the sugar scrub. Brittany squinted at the name tag, Kurt.
Brittany frowned thoughtfully. "He was gay."
"Super gay." Santana agreed.
"Flaming." The man nodded honestly.
"I mean, he could only have an erection after I penetrated him." Suddenly, this was all making a sick sort of sense. "I can't believe it. He was gay."
"Okay." Santana held up her hand. "That is more than I ever needed to know."
"But I loved him." Brittany shook her head.
"Did you?" Santana asked. Normally she probably would just nod and accept the answer. But she had spent the last couple of days being maimed and bruised in the name of letting Brittany keep her mind off things. She was done.
Just then a woman—Lauren if the tag was right—stepped up to Santana to start for herself. Santana looked at the woman seriously. "I am very ticklish."
Lauren shrugged. "Most people are."
"It's ridiculous, so just be prepared and don't let me kick you in the face." Santana warned.
"If you kick me in the face, I'll break your ankle." Lauren commented, poking the still swollen and bruised flesh. "Otherwise I'll be super gentle."
"Thank you."
Brittany watched the interchange with amusement. "Why get pedicures if you are super ticklish?" She asked, smirking when Santana clenched the arm rests in a white knuckled grip.
Santana bit her lip while they ran the pumice stone along the bottom of her feet and scrubbed heavily, biting her lip hard to keep from laughing like an idiot. Finally, Lauren seemed to be done with the worst part and she took a deep breath. "What did you say?"
Santana opened her eyes to cast a glance at her wife who had clearly been watching the debacle. She frowned when Charlie blushed a little and waved away something that Quinn was saying. Quinn sometimes forgot that Charlie wasn't her punching bag. Charlie was capable of taking care of herself, but Santana still didn't like it.
"Why get pedicures if you are ticklish?" Brittany repeated.
"What else was I going to do?" Santana questioned. "Charlie wanted to spend time with you and Quinn. I wasn't about to stand in her way. Even now, she might not admit it, but she would have been really disappointed to miss out on this."
"Really?" Brittany couldn't quite believe it. "She doesn't seem to care when Quinn and I go do stuff."
"Yeah, but what is she supposed to say? Oh guys, don't leave me out?" Santana scoffed. "Please. You should know Charlie better than that."
Brittany frowned. "I don't get it. So why not stay home while she came out with us. You clearly haven't been having a good time."
"Are you kidding?" Santana snorted. "I got my nipples pierced. Of course I am not having a good time." She sighed and then, after really thinking about it for a moment decided that Brittany was maybe looking for the truth. "I know you think we're boring and co-dependent."
"Well I did." Brittany admitted. "Then you told me you had a three-some and eloped. So maybe I didn't have all the facts."
"Maybe not." She agreed.
Brittany frowned when she thought about it. All this time, they had been mocking Santana's marriage and yet, the more she saw, the more she realized that maybe this was the type of relationship she had wanted all along. "How did you know that Charlie was the one?"
"I just—" Santana trailed off, really thinking about it. "I wanted to take out the garbage."
"Look, if you aren't going to take this seriously, then never mind."
"No seriously. I've never been one to worry about crap like that, but Charlie hates taking out the garbage. That's when I realized that she was it for me. Even if it was hard or annoying, I wanted to take out the garbage so that she didn't have to."
"I don't think I understand."
"I don't know that I do either." Santana replied honestly. "But I would rather spend hours listening to Charlie debate the benefits of a V6 or V8 engine over spending fifteen minutes by myself. I think that's what love—what marriage is about." She smiled sardonically. "I would rather have a bunch of crazy memories with her, even if those crazy memories are just stupid and simple, than anything else in this world. Whether it's a weekend with her sisters or just sitting together having dinner while watching TV, the only regrets I will ever have in life are the moments I wasn't with her."
"That was—" She wanted to say nice or idealist, but instead settled for, "super cheesy."
"I saw it on some show." Santana shrugged. "But it's still true."
"Sure." Brittany scoffed, thinking it over. She definitely hadn't ever felt that with Blaine. He definitely hadn't spent the time to look over various art pieces from other painters she admired. They had just sort of lived their lives independently. Every so often, they had sex. She had thought they were happy, but she hadn't really ever considered what a happy marriage meant.
Maybe that was the problem.
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A few hours later, the group found themselves seated at the manicure tables. Quinn had decided that Charlie no longer needed to be the buffer between her and Rachel and had whisked the other woman off to sit beside her.
Good riddance. Charlie thought with a smirk, wincing when the woman in front of her started clipping skin around her nails.
"You should pay me double." The manicurist grumbled.
Charlie looked over at Santana for an idea on what the appropriate response should be. "Uh, sorry?"
"You see how I have to dig out the dirt and oil?" The woman—Sue—pointed to the towel that she was scraping the black gunk from Charlie's nails onto. "I will do a good job for you, heaven knows you don't deserve it—but you should pay me double. Triple even."
"So..." Charlie noticed that Brittany next to her was trying not to laugh. "You are going to charge me extra?"
"No." She shook her head. "But you should pay me extra."
"I'm a mechanic." She offered, hoping that sounded enough like an apology to keep the other woman from commenting on it every five seconds.
"Wear gloves." She retorted, then muttered under her breath. "Idiot."
"Okay." Charlie winced. "Just make them look nice."
The woman eyed her closely. "I know just the thing."
Charlie shrugged. It didn't really matter to her either way.
She fidgeted and tried not to show her discomfort at the manicure. She wasn't exactly the manicure type person, but Santana seemed to be enjoying this. Maybe it wasn't that bad? Quinn and Rachel were engaged in some whispered intense discussion across from her while Santana watched her own manicurist like a hawk. Eventually Sue declared her nails to be completed. She glanced down, unimpressed. It kind of looked like her nails were normal, except they were more...plasticy?
She didn't really understand why people did this. But hey, at least now they could get some lunch.
Glancing down at the clock, she realized that it was more likely they would be grabbing dinner. She approached her wife who was currently standing at the reception desk, reading over something carefully.
"She said I should pay her double." She whispered to Santana who was apparently looking over their bill. "So, like, do I tip her?"
"Did she do a good job?" Santana asked without looking up.
Charlie held out her fingers for inspection. "Sure?"
Santana snorted at the sight. "Are you kidding me?"
"What?" Charlie looked down at her hands, wondering what was wrong. "I thought they looked nice."
"Acrylic french tipped nails?" Santana scoffed, then narrowed her eyes at the bill in disbelief. "Did you ask her for that, or did Brittany suggest it?"
"Um," Charlie rubbed the back of her neck thoughtfully. "I don't know."
"Charlie, you're a mechanic. Those are like—" Santana took a deep breath. Not only did her wife have chipped nails all the time, she bit her nails when she was nervous. An acrylic manicure for her was literally pouring money down the drain, not to mention a block on their sex life.
"Just because she's a mechanic doesn't mean she can't get what she likes." Quinn defended.
Santana counted to ten in her head then, when her irritation didn't lessen, she just kept going. She reached eighty seven before she finally sighed. "I didn't mean that, they do look nice." She eyed her wife to see if she had indeed hurt her feelings. "I just meant, that you will have a lot of upkeep and that doesn't seem like something you would want."
"Oh." Charlie nodded thoughtfully and picked at her nails. "That sucks."
Santana nodded, her eyes wide like she expected Charlie to notice something else that was wrong about her selection.
"What?" Charlie asked after a moment.
"We're lesbians. Think about it."
Charlie looked down at her hands, then back up at her wife, then down at her hands again in confusion. Suddenly it dawned on her. "Get these fucking things off of me." She stomped back to the table where Sue was cleaning up.
Quinn watched the interchange with unfiltered disgust.
Santana was just like Puck. Anytime she wanted anything, sex was the bargaining chip. Was Santana so controlling that she couldn't let Charlie have the manicure she wanted?
Someone had to put a stop to her.
"I can't believe that."
"I know, right?" Santana sighed and shook her head. "The ridiculous—"
"I can't believe that you are so abusive of my sister." Quinn stepped forward, encroaching on Santana's space.
Santana gulped down her annoyance at being interrupted. "Abusive? What in the world are you talking about?"
"You control her every move! I should call the cops on you." Quinn put both her hands up and pushed against Santana's shoulders. Santana hissed in pain, her sore shoulder protesting at the contact.
"Damn it." She stepped back aware that although Rachel was uselessly watching the altercation, Brittany had slipped away to get Charlie. Or at least she hoped that's what she was doing. "I should call the cops on you for assault."
"Controlling behavior. Uneven power dynamics. It's textbook emotional abuse." Quinn ran her hand through her hair. "I can't believe I didn't see it before."
Santana's eyes narrowed. "You didn't 'see it before' because there was nothing to see. I may be a bitch, but I'm not a bitch to Charlie."
"It seems like you like keeping Charlie as your bitch, though. Rachel said how much you liked being on top so I guess I'm not surprised—"
Santana saw red. All weekend she had been biting her tongue, avoiding pointing out how utterly selfish it was for Quinn to insist Rachel follow them around like some rescued pet. She lunged forward only to feel strong arms surround her waist. "Babe, please don't kill my twin. I need her for spare parts." Charlie joked, trying to relieve the tension.
Quinn couldn't take it anymore. Charlie used to be hers. And now she was, what? Coming in second place? Behind Santana?
"No." Santana pulled against her wife's hold. "She thinks I'm abusing you!"
"What the hell, Quinn?" Charlie was tempted to loosen her hold on Santana, but held on tightly. "What the fuck is your problem?"
"My problem is that she's changed you. You used to be something Charlie! She treats you like a child." Quinn shook her head and took another menacing step toward Santana. "What happened to you?"
"Oh, like you're any better?" Santana scoffed. "You keep Puck's leash so tightly twisted around your little finger that—"
"Can you make decisions for yourself? Or do you have to wait for Santana to tell you what to do?" Quinn interrupted, ignoring Santana and keeping her eyes focused on her twin.
Charlie went to answer but Santana was too quick. "Of course she doesn't have to wait for me to tell her what to do. She's a grown ass adult. At least she acts like it."
"Oh does she?" Quinn retorted, sneering.
Santana struggled harder and Charlie felt her cheeks flush. "We're a team." Charlie defended, not really appreciating that Quinn was publicly trying to shame her wife. She was mortified that people seemed to be on their phones, watching with rapt attention. "So no, I can't go buy a motorcycle because I feel like it. But—"
"But nothing!" Quinn threw up her hands in disgust. "You work hard for your money—you shouldn't have to cater to the whims of some bully just because she tricked you into marrying her."
"Tricked her—" Santana scoffed. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Quinn ignored her and continued. "You used to tell me everything in detail. We talked every day. And then, all of the sudden, you shut me out!"
"I only told you stuff to gross you out." Charlie retorted.
"You pulled away. You owe me—"
"Just because mom made us share a room our entire lives doesn't mean I owe you anything." Charlie felt Santana's struggling stop and loosened her grip. "I mean, what is wrong with you? Was the womb not enough? I'm married!"
"Guys, maybe we should all calm down." Rachel suggested. She had been quietly watching to support Quinn, but she had a sinking feeling this wasn't going to end well.
"Are we really arguing over the fact that Charlie got a manicure?" Brittany pointed out.
"It was a stupid manicure." Santana grumbled, apparently the only one of the arguing three that had heard them.
"I'm married too." Quinn huffed. "But you don't see me following Noah around like a little lost puppy."
"Yeah, because you hate him. Face it princess, you are jealous that Charlie and I are happier than you and Puck." Santana spat.
With that, Quinn lunged forward and pushed Santana with all her might causing the other woman to fall to the ground. The others stood still in shock. Quinn lifted balled her fist and punched hard and fast—just like Charlie had taught her when they were kids and felt her knuckles connect with Santana's nose.
"You stupid bitch!" Charlie regained her composure and lunged forward, tackling her twin. She winced and cried out as she pulled her knee again. "You just have to cause a scene." She pushed against Quinn and stood hopping on one foot to avoid putting weight on her knee. "Her shoulder is fucking hurt. You idiot."
Santana wiped at the blood seeping out of her nose. She was pretty sure it wasn't broken but she would worry about that later. For now, she was tired of Quinn questioning Charlie's every decision. The very idea that she could hurt Charlie was offensive to her very core. Mindful of her shoulder, she waited until Charlie's back was turned and sucker punched Quinn.
Quinn shrieked in pain. "You broke my nose!"
"Good!" Santana grinned.
Quinn went to retaliate only to have Brittany step between them, blocking her path. "Get out of my way."
"No! You are being ridiculous. What the hell did Santana ever do to you?"
Quinn cursed and tried to evade her sister. But Brittany had danced and played basketball through her childhood and refused to let Quinn past. Behind her, Charlie hobbled over to her wife. "Did you really have to sucker punch her?"
"Yes. I just wish I could have done more. She deserved it." Santana insisted, worriedly running her fingers along her wife's bad knee.
"She did." Charlie laughed, wincing at the contact.
Quinn cradled her nose. "Sure, I deserved it. I just spoke out against what a terrible—"
Santana lunged and Charlie held her back. "Seriously?" Brittany asked her sister, shaking her head. "You need to back off."
"What's going on here?" A uniformed officer stepped into the lobby.
Brittany's jaw dropped. He was hot. He was tall, with dark eyes and a strong, lean muscular frame. He bore a name tag that identified him as Officer Chang.
"What's 'going on' is that my sister's wife is controlling and constantly belittling her wife. Someone has to put a stop to it."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Santana lunged for Quinn again.
"Hey." Officer Chang stepped between them, joining Brittany in the center of the fray. "That's enough."
"Oh yeah, that's right, just take her side!" Quinn huffed. She pushed the officer harshly. "Stupid mall cop."
Officer Chang's eyes narrowed and Brittany winced. "Ma'am, I'm going to ask you to calm down."
"Ma'am?" Quinn pushed him again. "You think I'm old enough to be called Ma'am." She thrust her arms against his chest and pushed.
The officer grabbed her left wrist and in a practiced move twisted her hand down behind her back, slapping the handcuffs on her wrist. "You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law."
"Are you kidding me? You should arrest her!" She didn't fight the cuffs but only felt her fury grow as he continued to recite the standard warnings. How was this fair? Santana had ruined everything, and yet again she was the one getting off freely. "Look at my sister. Her wife did that!"
Officer Chang arched his brow and looked at the couple, only to have the brunette fight against the other blonde and break free from the blonde's grasp. "You think I'm hitting her? I'll show you how hard I can hit!"
He reacted quickly, spurred by years of training and blocked the brunette, grabbing her right hand and pulling it behind her back and reaching for his spare zip ties.
Santana cried out when he pulled against her bad shoulder tying her hands behind her back. "Fuck that hurts."
"Be careful with her." Charlie didn't think before she acted, lunging for the man hurting her wife.
Officer Chang dodged the attack swiftly, subduing his new attacker before radioing for backup. He hadn't been expecting a disturbance call to turn into a large bust.
"Are you happy with yourself?" Santana rolled her eyes. "This is a whole new level of embarrassing."
"Of course I am not happy with myself." Quinn spat. "But someone has to stop you."
"Would you two shut up?" Charlie hissed. "They told us we had the right to remain silent. We are supposed to remain silent."
"Listen, officer, this has just been a huge misunderstanding." Brittany laughed at the sight of her twin sisters and sister-in-law pouting while they sat restrained on the floor of the upscale spa. She could make this better. He was hot, she was hot, maybe she could get him to let them go once everybody calmed down.
But knowing Quinn and Santana, that would take forever.
Officer Chang took a deep breath and ran his hands through his short clipped hair. "I can't just ignore that these two tried to assault an officer." He pinched the bridge of his nose. This really was going to be a whole lot of paperwork. He wasn't looking forward to it.
"What do you have, Chang?" A new voice joined the others. This time, a woman strode up toward them purposefully.
He sighed. "I think it's just a spat that got out of hand, Jones."
"Yeah." Brittany nodded, grinning broadly and rubbing her hand down Officer Chang's arms. "It absolutely got out of hand."
Officer Jones quirked an eyebrow.
"Brittany, knock it off." Santana could see where this train of thought would take them and it wouldn't exactly be helpful. "They are going to think—"
"Go ahead Santana, why don't you tell another Fabray what to do. You are so damn bossy!" Quinn interrupted.
"Shut up." Charlie hissed again.
"If we can just forget this whole thing happened, I know my father would be really pleased. You know, Russell Fabray of Fabray Corp? I'm sure he would make a sizeable donation to your precinct—"
Santana groaned. "Now you've done it."
"Ma'am," The woman stepped forward. "I'm going to have to ask you to put your hands behind your back. You have the right to remain silent—"
"Wait, what?" Brittany stopped, totally flabbergasted.
"Anything you say can, and will, be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, an attorney will be provided to you. Do you understand these rights?"
"Yeah, but—what? What am I being arrested for?"
"For attempting to bribe an officer." Officer Jones pulled the cuffs tight against Brittany's wrist.
"Does anyone listen to Santana? No!" The brunette scoffed, talking to herself. "Why would Santana know anything?"
Rachel huffed. She wasn't about be left behind again. First Santana, now Finn, each time she had been left behind while they created new dreams and goals that they didn't share with her. Not this time. Not with Quinn. "Excuse me Officers, I would like to be arrested as well."
"Oh great." Charlie rolled her eyes. What was so great about Rachel that had Quinn falling all over herself? It had taken Santana months to get over her. And she was this self-absorbed?
The Officers exchanged a glance. "Sorry, but we don't just go around arresting people."
"Why don't you just run along and you can meet us at the precinct once this has all been sorted out?" Officer Jones suggested.
Rachel's gaze hardened. "No. I demand you arrest me at once." She declared.
"Rachel—" Santana warned.
"No." The Officer crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't have to listen to your demands. I don't arrest people for no reason."
Rachel stomped her foot gruffly. She looked around until her eyes settled on the large water dispenser. These incompetent officers wouldn't arrest her? Then she would find something worthy of arrest. Grabbing the glass, she flung the fancy item onto the floor. "There!"
Sue clamored forward, pushing past the growing crowd. "Do you have any idea how much that cost?"
Rachel beamed, proud of accomplishing her objective. "Arrest me now."
Officer Chang shook his head. "Fine, you get your wish."
Santana rolled her eyes. Typical.
Could this weekend get any worse?
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"I know how hard it can be to go through a breakup." Officer Chang assured, leading Santana back to the holding cell. She had just talked to her dental assistant, who after laughing had promised he would be there as soon as possible. "My girlfriend just broke up with me a few weeks ago."
Santana rubbed the back of her neck with her good arm. "That sucks." She nodded, "but we're sorry for letting it get out of hand. Brittany was just so devastated, we were trying to keep her mind off it."
Officer Chang shrugged. "I don't think anyone really meant any harm. She seems nice."
"You mean when she's not trying to sneak her way into your pants?" Santana scoffed.
He blushed. "Yeah, she's very attractive."
Santana took note. It might be too soon, but this could be a good sign.
He guided her back toward the cell, opening the door to let Santana back inside. "This may—uh—sound unprofessional. But do you think I could get your autograph?"
She looked at him, pausing in the door. "Uh—Sure?"
"It's just—" He blushed again. "You guys are all super famous right now."
"Famous?" Rachel brightened. Sure she was a star, but no one had ever called her famous.
"Well not you," Mike explained, narrowing his eyes. "Actually, I have no idea who you are."
"No idea?" She scoffed at the very idea.
"Yeah. Sorry. Who are you again?"
She bristled. "I am Rachel Berry, and if you don't know me, then—"
"Well you're Santana and Charlie Lopez, right? From the video?"
"What video?" Quinn queried.
Officer Chang pulled out his phone and found a video on youtube for Charlie and Santana to see. They watched, with growing horror as the scene from the night before replayed on the device. There, for the entire world to see was Santana and Charlie singing and dancing to sing their son to sleep.
"You've got to be kidding me." Santana groaned. Her parents were going to kill her.
"This has over seventeen million views." Charlie pointed out.
"Yeah, everybody has been talking about it." Officer Chang rubbed the back of his neck, catching Brittany's eye and then looking away quickly.
Rachel huffed and grabbed the phone in disbelief, scrolling down to look at the comments.
Youtube comments were hardly ever positive.
It wasn't going to be that big of a deal.
Except for these youtube comments were almost universally positive.
'Get these two a TV show, that was brilliant!'
'The blonde one is hot.'
'I bet the brunette is a stripper.'
'They sing this to their son? These are the coolest moms ever!'
'r u 2 looking for a 3-sum?'
Rachel stomped her foot. "I can't believe this! This is like the commercial all over again."
"Excuse me?"
"You just aren't satisfied with my success. You have to steal it? After all of these years, you are still so juvenile that you would do this just to best me?"
"I have no idea what you're—"
"We were singing to our son." Charlie interrupted her wife, incredulous at the idea that they wanted people to see their nightly routine.
Quinn stepped up, still bristling from their earlier argument and wanting to support Rachel. "This is all your fault." She spat toward Santana.
"My fault?" Santana stepped back incredulously. "It was your idea to have this stupid weekend anyway. How is this my fault?"
"Charlie was normal before she met you. Now she's just—she's just boring."
"Newsflash Princess, Charlie was never normal."
"She was before she met you." Quinn retorted. "Then you came along and you broke her!"
"I broke her?" Santana spat, pushing Charlie's hands away when her wife tried to calm her down. "By what? Loving her?"
"She was going to work for NASA, to chase her dreams." Quinn stepped into Santana's space and pushed her hands against the shorter woman's shoulders. "But you decided your dreams were more important."
Santana stepped forward, pushing Quinn in turn. "Is that right?" She sneered. "Are you sure you aren't projecting? You—"
"Santana—you should stop." Brittany tried to interject. "Quinn doesn't mean—"
"Please." Santana pushed at Quinn again. "You think I don't know that you'd rather sleep with a sack of potatoes than your husband? You hate him Quinn, and he deserves better! If you think—"
"Oh, you mean like Charlie deserves better?" Quinn pushed back.
"I am so sick of you Fabrays and your fucking interrupting me!" Santana exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "This is ridiculous! If you hate your life so much, fix it. But leave Charlie and me alone!"
"I would, but I know she's miserable." Quinn spat back, ignoring the betrayed look her twin shot her.
"And how would you possibly know Lucy?" Santana mocked pointedly. "Because you are psychic? News flash! Not everything is about you."
"I never said it was."
"Look around!" Santana gestured emphatically. "We're stuck in fucking jail because you couldn't figure out your shit. If you like Rachel, gross. But just be happy already and stop complaining about it!"
"Everybody complains." Quinn dismissed easily.
"Not as much as you do." Santana retorted.
Quinn bit her lip, furious. Normally, she had enough presence of mind to filter her anger, but she was beyond reason. "You mean like when Charlie complained to me that she was worried you were rushing things?" Quinn watched as the blow landed against Santana, the other woman's eyes widening slightly and her fist clenching in an attempt to hide the betrayal.
"Quinn!" Charlie shouted, standing up to physically separate them. "Leave Santana alone."
Santana glanced at her wife and took a deep breath. She didn't miss that Charlie's words weren't an outright denial. But, they would deal with this like they did everything else, away from the nosy prying eyes of Charlie's sisters. "That was when we were getting married. Everybody has doubts." She waved away the new information and vowed that her wife would have to explain herself.
"Doubts?" Quinn laughed, twisting the knife just for the sheer joy of it. "What about when Charlie was worried you would leave her, because she doesn't think she has anything to offer you."
Charlie's jaw dropped. She couldn't believe Quinn just said that. "What the hell, Quinn?" She turned to her wife, placing the palms of her hands against Santana's shoulders. She tried to catch Santana's eyes, feeling her own heart drop at Santana's disheartened look. "It was a long time ago—I barely remember saying it."
Just like that, all the anger and frustration blew out of Santana's sails. "But you did say it?" She turned to her wife, blinking rapidly.
"What type of wife are you if Charlie doesn't even know if she should be worried about you adding a dentist to your practice because, and I quote, 'they are good with their hands too'?"
"Quinn, stop." Charlie pleaded, reaching out for Santana's hand only to have the brunette pull away.
"You told her that?" Santana couldn't keep the hurt out of her voice.
Maybe she was wrong.
Maybe they were in trouble.
She thought they were united in keeping their drama away from Quinn's judgment and Brittany's gossiping ears. It had taken her months to get Charlie to admit her insecurities. Santana thought they had talked about it, she thought—
She thought a lot of things that weren't apparently true.
"I just needed to decompress." Charlie assured, desperately trying to bail herself out of this sinking ship. "I'm so sorry."
But Quinn was on a roll. Seeing the crack in her sister's marriage she hit with a sledgehammer. "Don't be sorry Charlie, be honest. Don't minimize how she makes you feel inadequate."
"Charlie?" Santana physically took a step back. She looked like she had been struck. "You do?"
Charlie hesitated. She wanted to lie, to find some way out of this conversation, but she and Santana had long ago resolved to always be completely honest. After a second, she shrugged. "I just, maybe sometimes—"
"I can't believe you!" Santana spat. "When were you going to tell me about this?"
Charlie threw up her hands, annoyed that she had suddenly become the bad guy. "When exactly was I supposed to tell you? When you were fawning over your new office? Or raving about your new x-ray machine?"
"But you talked to Quinn?" Santana couldn't keep the hurt out of her own voice.
Charlie's annoyance grew. Quinn was her sister and even if she was being a bitch right now, she shouldn't have to apologize for finding someone to talk to while she worked out exactly what she wanted to say to her wife. Sure, she had probably said too much. She had definitely said too much if Quinn's outburst was anything to go by, but she refused to accept Santana's rage for blowing off a little steam. "Yeah, I talked to my sister. Is that so wrong?"
"I thought—" Santana took a deep breath, trying to ignore the burning in her eyes. "I thought we were a team."
"We are a team." Charlie retorted. "But I can't help it if sometimes I feel like you're the coach and I'm just the player coming off the bench."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Pushing aside the hurt she felt, she focused on her anger. She was angry that Charlie wanted to do this right now with her sisters standing not three feet away. What happened to keeping their lives private?
"Expanding?" Charlie narrowed her eyes at her wife knowingly. It was an argument that had been brewing for months, but both of them had consciously put it on the back-burner. Apparently they were going to do this right now. "You are so sure that expanding the shop is the right thing for us. You can't possibly know that!"
"I just want to help! You pull in a lot of money from the garage and you're popular. You need to figure out what to do because you just don't have time to get to everything."
"You can't solve all of my problems for me Santana. Sometimes, I might have to fail."
"Why in the world would you fail?" Santana scoffed. It was ridiculous to her, even the idea. Charlie was amazing and it killed her that her wife doubted that.
Charlie shrugged, "It could happen. You can't know for sure how everything is going to turn out."
"I don't want you to ever have to fail."
"Then that should be my choice."
"Fine! Fail then!" Santana threw up her hands in frustration. "Just know, it's my life too."
"Is it?" Charlie retorted. "Because it sure seems like I'm the one taking all of the risks here." She instantly regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.
"Santana Lopez?" They hadn't noticed Officer Chang approach the cell. "You are free to go. Now, I am assuming you still want to bail out the others?"
"Let them figure it out on their own." Santana rubbed the side of her eye, flicking stray tears away to prevent them from beginning the trek down her cheeks.
Once she started, she wasn't sure she could stop.
"Santana, wait—" Charlie called after her.
"I wouldn't want to solve your problems for you Charlie." Santana turned away without a backward glance. "I need time away from all of you fucking Fabrays."
"Santana please, let's talk about it." Charlie begged.
"Why don't you just talk to your twin about it?" Santana stepped out of the door. "You seem to be really good at that."
Charlie watched her wife leave and turned her back to the bars of the cell, slowly allowing herself to sink to the floor.
"Well that went well." Rachel observed.
"One more Fabray Fuck Up for the win." Charlie noted.
"She'll get over it." Quinn attempted to alleviate Charlie's concern. "It's good for you guys to finally argue—"
Charlie looked at her twin incredulously. "What do you mean by finally? We fight all the time."
Quinn and Brittany exchanged a glance. "But we never see you two fight."
Charlie tapped her head lightly on the bars. "Why, because we aren't idiots and fight in front of the rest of the family, like the pair of you?"
Rachel smirked. At least not everything about Santana had changed.
"Still." Quinn insisted, "She should let you follow your dreams. It's been how many years? It's time you finish your Masters and look into working for NASA. She owes you that much."
"She doesn't owe me anything." Charlie closed her eyes, wishing her sisters away and replaying the argument with her wife over in her head. "And I got my Masters a long time ago."
Quinn's jaw dropped. "You did?"
Charlie nodded, glancing at her slowly. "Yeah, I put Santana through school and then she did the same for me. Why? What did you think we were arguing about?"
"But the shop? She wants you to expand and you don't want to be stuck there?"
"Stuck?" Charlie furrowed her brow. "When did I say that?"
Quinn fell silent.
Maybe Charlie had never said she felt stuck. But that's what she meant. Fears about her marriage, about her work, all of it was something Quinn could very easily identify as the dissatisfaction that came through being denied access to following her dreams. Charlie just didn't recognize what was happening. She shook her head, almost feeling bad for her sister.
She had to help set Charlie free.
"She wants me to expand so that I can hire more people." Charlie explained. "Expansion means I can pull myself out of the garage work and just oversee operations. She thinks that's the first step in getting away from the shop so that I have time for NASA or whatever else I might want to do."
Brittany's brow furrowed. "Then what is the argument? Isn't that what you want?"
"When I was fifteen, sure, that sounded like the dream. But now, Santana is my dream. Do I want to work eighty hours a week at a place where my best designs are going to get blown into outer-space on a rocket? That's just not what I want anymore."
Quinn frowned. Charlie must just be feeling insecure. No one would ever pass up a job where they could be important for a small unassuming life like the one Charlie was leading now. "Well Charlie, you could at least apply for a job with—"
Charlie watched Quinn more closely. Something else was going on here. But her knee hurt and after the argument with her wife, her heart did too. She didn't have time to worry about Quinn's shit. "I have applied for a job, and I got offers. Several."
She sighed at the thought. Santana had been her biggest cheerleader, insisting that applying for the job just meant that she would have options. But once the offers started coming in, Charlie forced herself to take a real deep look at what she wanted. Her family was happy and she felt satisfied. For her, that was enough.
Seeing that neither Quinn, nor Brittany, nor Rachel—what the fuck was she still doing there?—were going to let it go, she continued. "Santana always pushes me to take them, but why should I? Why uproot my family, disrupt my wife's practice and move half-way across the country for something I don't even care about anymore?"
Quinn sank limply down to the bench that was bolted to the cinder-block wall, blinking as she assimilated the information. "Wow, I didn't know."
"Yeah, well forgive me for not telling you everything. You are kind of a bitch."
"Charlie!" Rachel gasped.
"It's true." Brittany agreed. "You are a judgey bitch."
"I am not." Quinn defended half-heartedly.
"You are." Brittany insisted. "We know you're perfect, but maybe you don't have to shove it down our throats every other five minutes."
Charlie snorted. "Yeah, it gets a little old."
"And you." Brittany turned on her sister. "I thought you were boring. I have avoided you for years because I thought you had no idea how to have fun."
The other woman smirked. "Well maybe I liked being avoided."
"Tough." Brittany wagged her finger seriously, and for a moment both twins almost commented on how much she resembled their mother. "Because we are now hanging out more regularly."
"Whatever. I may have to come live with you if I can't get Santana to forgive me."
"She will." Brittany assured.
Quinn only half-listened to the interchange. If Charlie wasn't unhappy with Santana—if she wasn't drowning in a sea of regrets and wasted dreams—then maybe she had been wrong. Maybe it wasn't Charlie's marriage that was falling apart.
Maybe it was her own.
Her breath hitched when she felt Rachel's fingers move beside her, grazing the side of her forearm accidentally. Even the briefest of contact with this woman who had so quickly seemed to take root in Quinn's soul felt more powerful and life changing than anything she had ever felt with Puck.
She would love to be able to chalk up these feelings to just something that had occurred this weekend and would never happen again.
But she wasn't sure she could go back to being the woman she was before.
Not after everything she had learned and done. It was as if she had been viewing the entire world with blinders. Now, able to take in the expanse and vastness, she was overwhelmed by how vibrant and beautiful it was. Rachel had given that to her. After a moment, Quinn sighed. "I'm not perfect."
"We know. So quit telling us you are." Charlie quipped.
"No, I just—I'm not perfect. I try so damn hard and then I look at you Charlie with your wife and kids and your perfect life, and I just can't compete."
"This isn't a competition."
"I thought if I was the perfect wife, the perfect mother than all of the rest of this would fall into place." Quinn admitted. "But I just feel so far from perfect it's a joke. I'm a joke."
"You aren't." Brittany assured.
"I slept with Rachel."
"What?"
"What about Puck?"
"I don't know." Quinn grabbed Rachel's hand. "But I do know that I felt things I never have before."
"You did?" Rachel grinned. "I did too."
"That's great." Charlie scoffed. Leave it to Quinn to save some big self-actualizing moment for when they were in jail.
"I know." Quinn sighed, completely missing the sarcasm. "It's just—before yesterday, I felt things in five minutes that I haven't felt in years with Puck."
"That's great, Quinn." Brittany nodded, trying to be supportive.
"I think maybe, I might be a lesbian."
"Congratulations." Charlie leaned back against the bars. "But that still doesn't fix things, you have to talk to Puck."
"I don't think I've had an orgasm in months, maybe even all year." Brittany admitted awkwardly. "I think, maybe, that should have been the sign that things with me and Blaine weren't good."
"What?" Charlie looked at her sister, the color draining completely from her face.
"I know what you mean." Quinn laughed. "I haven't been, you know, turned on by Noah in years." She shook her head. "Let alone an orgasm."
Rachel beamed proudly. She had definitely changed that aspect of Quinn's life.
Charlie blinked and stood abruptly. "I have to go call Santana and beg her to take me home."
"Charlie?" Quinn looked around the jail cell. "In case you didn't notice, we're kind of having a moment."
"No!" Charlie spun on her twin, her eyes flashing with furious rage. "You're having a moment. God! I was such an idiot. I can't believe I listened to the two of you. I dressed up as a damn puppet!"
"Hey."
"You've had Santana and me running around like freaks for the last two days. I have been terrified of drifting apart and destroying our marriage."
"Chuck, it's good to keep things spicy—"
"No! Shut up. Neither of you have had an orgasm in the last six months? And you are trying to give me marriage advice?"
"Charlie, how good can it be? You guys are putting it in your stupid calendars? You guys are lame—"
"You don't know what you are talking about." Charlie glared at them seriously.
"Don't I?" Brittany challenged. "Things with Blaine were fine until—"
"Until what? We've all known Blaine was gay since you first brought him to dinner. Santana and I had a bet on how long it would take him to come out. She won, by the way. So how about instead of judging my marriage, you two figure out your shit?"
"Hey!"
"Damn it, Quinn. You're miserable with Puck." Charlie shook her head. "You two complain that Santana and I are boring? That we need to spice things up? I can't believe I listened to you! Even on our worst week, we each get at least two. Two! I mean, sometimes it's about me, and sometimes it's about her, but two! And you're telling me that my marriage needs fixing? You two are the biggest bitches I've ever met. How dare you?" She pushed Quinn out of the way and called down the hall. "Guards? Somebody! Hey!"
Both her sisters fell silent at the admission.
Charlie ran her hands through her short cropped blonde hair and swore. "I've been so worried, and for what? So that I can conform to Quinn's ideas of how a good lesbian should act? Get your own fucking wife and leave us the hell alone."
"Chuck—"
"No!" Charlie pulled on the bars to the cell. "Guards, can I get a phone call?"