LBPDA Chapter 11:
Paid in Full

"Mmmm yeah?" Quinn slurred into the phone.

"Do I even dare ask how you are?" Rachel asked.

"Hmmm," Quinn hummed, trying not to move. "Awful."

"I'm so sorry, " Rachel offered sympathetically.

"Not your fault," Quinn muttered, turning over.

She opened her eyes and immediately wished she hadn't. The only thing worse was closing them. The room was still spinning. She groaned weakly.

"I don't suppose you'll let me come over there," Rachel said.

"You're right," Quinn answered. "I won't. Don't."

"That's just as well," Rachel remarked curtly. "I wasn't going to."

Quinn chuckled.

"I don't believe you," she told her. "You're probably sitting in my driveway."

Rachel scoffed loudly.

"Don't flatter yourself," she said.

"Are you going to make me get up and look? "Quinn said, taking a pained breath.

"Well, I'm not in the driveway," Rachel admitted.

Quinn sighed.

There's a key in the front wheel well of my car," she told her and hung up. She tossed the phone onto the bed. She rolled over and closed her eyes. When she woke again Rachel was sitting on the bed next to her, her hand running lightly across her back.

"Hi," she said quietly.

Quinn didn't say anything. She just moved over and put her head in Rachel's lap. Rachel pulled her fingers through the damp, tousled blonde hair then bent and kissed her head gently.

"Tell me what I can do," she said. "To make you feel better."

Leave him.

"Nothing," Quinn said pitifully.

Rachel sat up but kept petting her. At one point she slipped her hand inside Quinn's shirt, touching lightly on the bare skin of her back.

"You're so warm," she said. "Maybe a shower would feel nice."

Quinn shook her head and regretted it.

"No," she said flatly.

Mojo walked into the room and hopped up on the bed. He proceeded to walk up and down Quinn, apparently to find a comfortable spot to sleep. Quinn kicked at him and whined. Rachel reached out and scooted him gently off the bed. He gave her a hard once-over and then hopped up in the office chair, which spun slowly away. When it came back around again, he was curled in a ball, content.

"You need someone to take care of you," Rachel said lightly.

"Do you mean you?" Quinn asked. Her mood was getting darker.

"Someone," Rachel deflected.

Quinn sighed, exasperated.

"Why are you here?" Quinn asked.

Rachel frowned.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," she told her.

Rachel had not stopped touching her since she woke.

"I'll live," she said. "Mission accomplish. You're free to roam."

"And that we were okay," she added.

Quinn didn't say anything. Rachel leaned her head down into her.

"Are we?" she asked timidly.

"I want us to be," Quinn confessed.

"But we aren't, are we?" Rachel asked, not moving away.

"God I wish I could quit you," Quinn said in a syrupy drawl and Rachel laughed, hugging her.

Quinn made a half-hearted effort to shrug her off, but Rachel held fast.

"Why can't you be bossy or annoying or a pain the ass?" Quinn continued. "Oh, wait... you are all those things."

Rachel scoffed indignantly, but didn't move away.

"You're no prize either," she insisted.

"Oh please," Quinn said. "I think we've establish my undeniable magnificence."

Rachel buried her face in Quinn's back and snorted loudly.

"You are so full of...," she said happily.

"Wisdom and knowledge," Quinn filled in helpfully.

"Crap," Rachel corrected.

"That, too" Quinn admitted honestly.

"Can I lay down with you?" Rachel asked.

"No," Quinn said immediately.

"Are you serious?" Rachel replied.

"Yes, totally," Quinn remarked.

"Oh,"Rachel said, surprised. She wasn't used to Quinn refusing her and she didn't care for it at all.

"Why not?" she asked, pouting.

"Rachel," Quinn said, pulling away from her and sitting up.

"Oh god," Rachel whined. The tone. "You're gonna scold me about something. I can tell."

Quinn smirked.

"Yeah, I am," she admitted.

"Fine," Rachel said sullenly. "Continue."

Quinn squinted hard at her.

"I gotta get up," she declared, kicking at the covers, fighting out from underneath them.

Rachel shifted slightly so she could move.

"What are you doing?" she asked, but Quinn didn't answer. She rolled out of bed and disappeared into the hall. Rachel heard the bathroom door close firmly.

Quinn was gone for what seem like an hour. At first Rachel fretted about how long she should wait before checking to see if she was alright but then, remembering her attitude, she decided against it altogether. After 20 minutes or so, she slipped off her shoes and settled down on the bed.

When Quinn finally came back in she was dressed. Her hair was damp and Rachel could tell she had showered. She looked exhausted and pale. Quinn settled down next to her eating something from a bowl. It might have been rice.

Rachel just stared at her.

After a few minutes of just eating quietly, Quinn spoke up.

"Do you still have sex with Figment?" she asked, not bothering to look at Rachel at all.

Rachel's mouth popped open and her brow knitted deeply. She was pretty sure they'd covered this topic.

"Why?" she asked

Quinn shrugged.

"Curious," she said.

Rachel just gaped and looked around.

"No," she finally admitted. "Not really."

"What the hell is not really?" Quinn asked, with a dubious side-eye.

"For the sake of argument, let's just say no," Rachel insisted. "Not for a while."

"Why not?" Quinn asked immediately. She knew the subject was making Rachel really uncomfortable, but she wasn't backing off.

"I don't... know," Rachel said slowly.

"Yes, you do," Quinn insisted, not letting her off the hook. "Don't you like it?"

Rachel huffed and shifted over slightly.

"I, I, I don't know," she stammered. "I haven't really thought about it, I guess."

"So is it that you don't like it?" Quinn pressed. "Or that you just don't like it with him?"

Rachel fidgeted, huffed and cast her eyes about before finally answering.

"It's...fine," she said meekly. "I just...I don't...want to."

"Have you thought about doing it with anyone else?" Quinn asked, chewing lazily.

There was more anxious fidgeting and finally she just shrugged.

"Maybe," she admitted slowly. "I guess."

"Me?" Quinn asked, coming right back at her.

Rachel hemmed around but didn't answer. Quinn ate quietly, her eyes working, thoughts going on behind them.

"Do you have any idea how much I wanted to fuck you last night?" Quinn asked flatly.

That produced an audible gasp from Rachel.

Quinn stopped chewing, but didn't look directly at Rachel. She heard the brunette's breath stutter. She could feel her whole body tense and could sense her panic. After a few long, silent, awkward minutes she started eating again, waiting for Rachel to answer.

"Well, um, I, I didn't... I wasn't," she babbled almost incoherently. Her hands started twitching about; opening and closing, smoothing the hem of the dress she was wearing, pulling at the threads on the blanket. "I mean, I...it was...I just."

Rachel took a hard, deep breath.

Quinn put her bowl aside on the dresser and turned to look at Rachel. She was blinking rapidly, clearly flummoxed to the point of almost being paralyzed. Quinn stared her up and down, then rolled her eyes. She pushed her over easily and climbed on top of her, essentially pinning her down. She stared down at her.

"What do you feel right now?" she asked quietly, her eyes boring into Rachel's.

Rachel just shook her head. She was nervous, a little bit afraid and very near tears.

"Do you like this?" Quinn asked, trying to coax her into responding.

Eyes tightly closed, Rachel nodded.

A single tear slipped out. Quinn leaned down and kissed it away. She moved down and kissed Rachel's neck, sucking softly above her shoulder. Rachel moaned and brought her hands up, clutching Quinn's biceps. Quinn kissed up her neck and under her jaw.

"And that?" she asked, keeping her face close to Rachel's. "Do you like the way that makes you feel?"

"Yes," Rachel husked.

Quinn licked the hollow at the base of her throat. She slipped the top two buttons on Rachel's dress and kissed across her chest, letting her lips drop just to the top of her cleavage. She kissed, then licked lightly.

"And?" Quinn asked, "When I do that?"

"Yes, yes," Rachel said, panting heavily. "More."

She raised up and tried to kiss Quinn, but Quinn pulled back. Rachel looked confused.

"Every time you want kisses," Quinn told her sternly. "When you want to snuggle and cuddle and lay next to me, how your feeling now is exactly what it makes me feel like."

Rachel swallowed hard, staring at her with wide doe eyes.

She grabbed Rachel's hand and pulled it over her heart, holding it flat there. The tip of Rachel's index finger was just barely grazing over her nipple.

Quinn's heart was hammering. She could feel her pulse at the base of her throat. Now Rachel felt it, too.

"Do you feel that?" Quinn asked.

Rachel nodded, blinking rapidly.

"Just keep all this in mind," Quinn told her. "When you ask for things."

Quinn curled her fingers around Rachel's. She felt Rachel's fingertip stroking ever so lightly.

"It's not a game, Rachel," she added. "Not to me. Is it to you?"

"No," Rachel said, shaking her head, her voice shaky, her lips trembling. Her tears spilled over. "No, it's not."

Quinn pulled her hand up and kissed the inside of her wrist, letting her lips linger. When she released it Rachel quickly brushed her tears away.

"You should hate me," Rachel said ridiculously, looking up and away. Quinn just smiled.

"Little one, my life would be so much easier if I could hate you," she said. "But I don't and I don't ever want to."

"Don't you want to..." Rachel started and quit. She brought her eyes back to Quinn.

"Want to what?" Quinn asked, nudging her to finish.

"Sleep with me?" she said in a whisper.

"Oh Rachel. Yes, but not just... I don't want just that," Quinn told her. "Look, if I just wanted sex, we wouldn't be having a discussion."

"Why not?" Rachel asked and Quinn smirked.

"Because..." she said dryly.

"Because why?" Rachel asked.

Quinn was never sure if this was part of Rachel flirting or just her being naive. She preferred to think the latter. She leaned down close watching her eyes. Rachel's eyes were the window to everything.

"Because," Quinn said slowly. "You'd be naked and I'd have better things to do with my mouth than engage in pointless conversation."

Rachel's pupils dilated and her cheeks pinked up almost instantly.

"Oh," Rachel said, now looking everywhere but at Quinn. "What do you want then?"

"Don't ask what you don't want to hear," Quinn warned her. "Chickadee, look at me."

Rachel met her eyes again.

"Tell me, " she said, again. "I really want to know."

"Right now I just really, really want to kiss you," Quinn admitted.

"And?" Rachel asked.

"And all the things that come after than," Quinn added. "Really nice things."

Rachel squirmed beneath her.

"But in the bigger sense," Quinn continued. "I want this, right here, all of this to be okay."

Quinn laughed.

"I want me doing this with you to be a part of my morning routine," she confessed. "I want to... eat breakfast with you. I want to pick you up from work. I want to... be the one you think of when good things happen. The one you need when bad things happen. And yes, I want to make love to you and then fall asleep wrapped up in your arms."

Rachel whimpered and looked away. Then she squeezed her eyes shut. Quinn brushed her long, dark hair back. She trailed her fingertips down the side of Rachel's neck then she leaned down and followed with her lips, just barely grazing and finally pulled away.

"I want you to want all that, Rachel," she told her, longingly confessing her heart's desire. "I want you to not be scared and not settle for things and to be amazing and, more than anything else, I want you to just be with me. With me, Rachel. Be with me."

Rachel turned back and they stared at each other.

"The question now is, 'What do you want?' " Quinn asked her.

Rachel swallowed hard, flexing her fingers on Quinn.

"Just say it, Rachel," Quinn urged. "Even if it's only just the sex, say it."

"Please, " Rachel said.

"Please what?" Quinn asked.

"Quinn," she said, "Please, please just kiss me."

She wanted Quinn.

She wanted to touch her and kiss her and have her do the same to her. She couldn't think of anything else. Quinn was asking for things, big, life-changing things, hard decisions and Rachel was still so fixated on the physical she couldn't fathom anything else. No one had ever made her feel the way Quinn did. It was exciting. It was terrifying. It was like fire – she was afraid of it and knew it could hurt her, maybe even kill her, but she couldn't stop touching it. Quinn was fire.

Quinn groaned and dropped her head into Rachel's chest. Rachel's hands move up into her hair.

"Please, just once, like you said," she begged. "Like you want to."

Quinn raised her head and looked at her.

Santana's words were swirling through her head.

Just once, let her see what she's missing. It's only a lie if you don't mean it.

Without giving herself time to think and talk herself out of it, she put her mouth over Rachel's. She immediately went for Rachel's full lower lip, pulling it between her own. Rachel's hands started roaming and Quinn quickly grabbed them, holding them down. She switch back and forth from Rachel's bottom lip to the top and back. Rachel would try to lick and make the kiss deeper, but Quinn wouldn't let her, she'd pull away or shake her head. Rachel would whimpered and stop. After a few minutes, it would start again.

Without even realizing, possibly out of instinct, Quinn allowed her knee to creep up until it was poised midway between Rachel's thighs. Rachel squeaked at the contact, then closed her eyes again and wrapped her arms around Quinn's neck. Squinting tightly she moved herself slowly down, sparks exploding, inch by agonizing inch, groaning when she hit the perfect spot. In the dress she was wearing there was nothing between Quinn's leg and the relentless throbbing between her thighs except the thin cloth of her panties and Quinn's worn jeans.

Quinn realized quickly what she was doing and she tried to pull away, but Rachel held fast to her.

"No, please," she begged, burying her face in Quinn's neck. "Let me."

She clutched at Quinn, pulling hard against her, grinding herself down against Quinn's thigh.

"Oh my god," she gasped, hands twisting in Quinn's hair.

"This is not what I was trying to do," Quinn hissed, feeling Rachel sliding against her. "This is.. not how I want it to be."

"I need you," Rachel panted. "Oh my god, Quinn."

A few minutes more. She was so close.

Rachel moaned loudly. Quinn closed her eyes and kissed her, hard, angry now. Part of her wanted nothing more than to say, "Fuck it, little girl. I'll give you want you so obviously want and forget anything else: Wham, bam, thanks, here's your hat. Oh yeah, sorry about your cat."

When Rachel started rubbing her whole body against hers, Quinn growled and tore herself away. She still wanted something more than just this.

"Shit," she hissed.

Rachel fell back with a pained groan.

"This is why you can't be here... Rachel," Quinn said, sitting up on the side of the bed. She was literally shaking. "Clearly neither of us has any goddamn self control."

Rachel scrambled up behind her, kissing the back of her neck, her arms wrapping around her chest.

"That was... I can't even," she said incoherently. She was still vibrating. "That was..."

"That was... very stupid," Quinn said angrily, mostly with herself. "It shouldn't have happened."

Rachel was hanging over her shoulder, stroking her hair. Quinn tipped her head away, but didn't get up.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please don't be mad," Rachel said anxiously. "I couldn't stop. I just... when I'm around you..."

Quinn sighed. She felt like shit and just wanted to go back to sleep.

"Rachel, you should go home," she told her quietly.

"No," Rachel said adamantly, shaking her head. "No, please let me stay."

"If you just want sex Rachel, say so." Quinn told her. "Just admit it. We'll fix this right here, right now and you can go about your life."

Rachel whined and pressed her face against Quinn's back.

"That's not all I want , " she said. "It's just you make me feel... things."

Quinn turned and looked back at her.

"Is he the only person you've ever been with?" Quinn asked seriously.

Rachel started that rapid blinking, then she got that lost, broken look. Finally, she shook her head.

"Almost," she said so softly Quinn barely caught it.

"Oh Rachel," she said and reached her hand back, sifting it through Rachel's tousled hair.

"Do you have to do everything the hard way?" Quinn asked with a broken laugh.

"Yes," Rachel said, laughing in spite of herself.

Santana's voice was churning around in her head again and Quinn pushed it away. She dropped her face into her hands, moaning quietly. Her headache was back again, not that it had ever really gone away.

"Here," Rachel said, scooting back. "Just come here."

She pulled on Quinn, tugging her back down. Quinn didn't have the strength to resist. She curled up tightly, facing away from Rachel. Once she was settled, Rachel spooned up against her, draping her arm over her waist, sliding their fingers together.

"Just sleep, hon," she said softly. "Sleep for now."

"You got what you wanted again, chickadee," Quinn mused. "I'm starting to see that's a pattern."

Rachel smiled, but didn't say anything.

"Don't molest me," Quinn teased.

Rachel snuggled into her hair.

"No promises," she said, laughing lightly, and she threaded one leg through Quinn's.

Quinn pulled her hand up and kissed the inside of her wrist again.

"Such a fucking mess," she muttered, leaning back into Rachel, who hugged her.

"Sleep, Quinn," she scolded.

"Bossy," Quinn murmured.

"You have no idea," Rachel said, lips against her shoulder.

Quinn chuckled.

"You don't scare me," she told her.

"Right back at you," Rachel said. "I can hold my own with you."

Quinn smiled and closed her eyes. After a few minutes, she turned over. Rachel looked confused. She was afraid she was going to try and send her away again. If she did, eventually she'd have to go. Instead, Quinn stared at her, then she narrowed her eyes and pointed a scolding finger.

"Behave," she said in a soft, but stern tone.

Rachel nodded.

Quinn took a handful of Rachel's hair and sifted it in her fingers.

"So beautiful," she said, shaking her head like she still couldn't believe it.

She licked her lips and Rachel's breath quickened because she knew.

Quinn kissed her, not quite like she wanted to, but close. She kept kissing her until she couldn't keep her eyes open anymore, then she put her head down on Rachel's chest and fell asleep to the sound of her heart beating.

Rachel leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

There was no doubt now about what Quinn was feeling, what she was saying, what she was offering.

Rachel, be with me.

She could hear Quinn's sultry voice in her head: Your move, chickadee.

=^..^=

Puck pulled in the driveway just in time to see Rachel backing out. She gave him a small smile and brief wave both of which he returned. He pulled into his usual spot and got out, pausing to watch while she drove away. Then he closed the door and went into the house. He expected to find Quinn up and around and was surprised when he didn't see her anywhere.

He walked down the hall to find her door closed. Undaunted, he knocked lightly. When she didn't answer, he tried the knob and when it turned, he pushed the door open. Quinn was curled on top of her covers, full-dressed, sleeping soundly.

"Hmm," he grunted, closing the door gently.

He walked back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator and stood staring. Checking his palette, he called. Finally, he started digging ingredients out and piling them on the counter. An hour later when Quinn emerged from her den, he had dinner simmering on the stove and was putting the finishing touches on the various accoutrements.

Quinn slumped into a chair at the table, pulling her knees up against her chest.

"Hungry?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Thank God," he teased. "I thought I'd have to eat all this myself."

"I'll help," she said quietly.

"Too bad Rachel cut out," he added. "She could have sampled my fine cuisine."

He pronounced it like "cousin" to see if he could get a rise out of Quinn, but she just grunted, rubbing her eye with the heel of her hand.

"Did you see her?" she asked.

"Just to give her my 'sup' nod," he admitted.

More nodding from Quinn. Now she was rolling her head on her knee.

"So I guess you took Santana's advice, huh?" he said, testing the waters.

"Sort-of," she answered without looking up. "Not exactly."

"Okay," he said, twirling his knife around in the air. "I'll pretend I understand what that means."

She chuckled.

"I haven't tapped that yet," she said, putting it in terms he could understand.

His eyes widened suspiciously. Rachel certainly had that guilty "bed-tumbled" look when she left and, for that matter, so did Quinn.

"But I did put it out there," she volunteered. "It was an option."

He rolled his eyes.

"Like there were others?" he asked.

She tipped her head and cracked her neck.

"Yeah, one," she told him.

"Alright," he said, frowning. "And so now what's the plan?

"I listen to you," she admitted to his surprise.

"For real?" he asked.

She nodded.

"It's out there," she said, just needing to hear it out loud. "She can do with it what she will. Whenever her contract is up, that's it."

She could feel his eyes on her. She didn't have to see him to know the look she was getting.

"Seriously," she added.

"No more cozy little breakfast, no more sneaking off on frustrating little rendezvous? No more wrestling and rubbing?" he asked, his tone giving him away. "I don't believe it."

"I don't care," she told him with a sad sigh. She tipped her head back on the chair and immediately wished she hadn't.

"Whatever happened to that phone book-sized set of maintenance instructions?" he reminded her helpfully.

She smiled.

"She has it," she said. "She sure has it."

"God, and you're good with that?" he said, grimacing. "The whining, the crying, the... everything?"

"Everything," she admitted wistfully, then realized how sappy and stupid she sounded and squared herself up.

"Whatever," she said dismissively. "It was all about the kissing. She just wanted someone to pay her attention."

"Oh right," he said. "Cause you're so goddamned warm and fuzzy."

"Shut up," she scoffed. She picked up the newspaper and flung it in his direction.

Pages separated and fluttered everywhere. Both Loki and Mojo came running in and started skidding on them across the floor, shredding them. Eventually they skidded into each other and there was the obligatory hissing and swatting before they both moved off to neutral territory.

"I can see that court-mandated anger management is paying off, too," he teased, waving a pot-holder-covered hand. "Yeah, yeah, I know...fuck me."

She laughed.

"Oh, I did do you a solid," he said, wiping his hands on his jeans. He reached into his pocket and fished out a media card and held it out to her. "From Rachel's, the trailcam."

Her eyes brightened and she snatched it from his hand and scrambled away from the table without another word.

"Thank you, Puck," he muttered to himself. "You're the best, Puck. I don't know how I'd manage without you, Puck."

She piled into her office chair and cued up her laptop. She slipped the media card into the slot and loaded the video.

"Hey Puck," she yelled, watching the buffer bar scroll across the screen.

"Yeah?" he yelled back, waiting.

"You rock." she told him.

"About time someone noticed," he countered and smiled. "I'm pretty damned awesome."

She pulled the mouse over and started scanning through the grainy video carefully. Cat, wrong color. Cat, too small. Ugh, rat. It went in and came back out empty-handed and scuttled away. She scanned and felt herself nodding off so she rewound and started from the rat again. Nothing, nothing, nothing. There, right there. First it was a shadow, it came and went and vanished. Nothing, nothing, Back again, a quick glimpse of fur – it was definitely bigger than a squirrel. Nothing, nothing. The camera blinked out then came back on. Hopefully it was just a glitch in the media card. Just when she was getting hopeful she heard the chittering.

"Fuck," she said under breath. She knew that sound.

There was a glimpse of fur again, more noises, then a face popped up. It was a raccoon. It immediately walked around the trap, suspicious since Puck had built it up and moved it. It was waiting to see what, if anything, was lurking in wait. When it was sure the coast was clear, it went to work. First it worked the string tying the bait with fingers and sharp little teeth. Once it fell, it pulled the chicken leg to the far corner and patiently stripped all the meat off the bone.

"Yup," she said, watching. "That's the M.O., you little shit."

"So?" Puck asked, leaning on the door.

"Waste of effort," she said with obvious frustration.

"Squirrel?" he asked.

"Raccoon," she correctly.

"That would do it," he said, nodding. "Sorry, Q."

"It is what it is," she told him. "I wasn't all that surprised."

"Still," he said sympathetically. "It was worth a shot. You ready to eat?"

"I'll be there in a second," she told him and he nodded and went back to the kitchen.

She watched a few more minutes, then scanned through to the end. She ejected the card and closed her computer and went to join Noah for dinner.

"Well," Quinn said, pushing her plate away. "That was the second best thing that's happened to me all day."

She leaned back in her chair and groaned, rubbing her stomach. She was full almost to point of being uncomfortable. At least her headache was finally gone.

"Second?" Noah groused, pouting. "What the hell was the first."

Quinn quirked her brow and stared at him. He squinted at her, momentarily baffled, then an "aha" look crossed his face and he nodded.

"I thought you didn't sleep with her," he recounted.

She shook her head.

"It's the journey, not the destination," she observed. "There's nice stops along the way."

He looked at her like she had just turned purple.

"I hate when you get all fortune cookie and shit," he said.

She laughed but mostly because it sounded like something Santana might say.

"It's just nice being with her," she said honestly. "She's smart and funny and, I don't know, cuddly."

"Who in the fuck are you?" he said, a look of horror on his face.

She rolled her eyes hard at him.

"Shut up," she said weakly. She was trying not to get into a fight with him, but he was pressing buttons pretty quickly.

"Seriously, you're a mess, Q," he said shaking his head. "Just step out before you get..."

"Before I get what?" she snapped.

"I don't know," he said, sighing. "Fuck, run over by a truck. You're walking all around all sideways with your head in the damn clouds."

She scoffed.

"Hit by a truck," she muttered under her breath. Like that would ever happen. He was being ridiculous. "I'm fine. Everything's fine. I gotta go."

She pushed back from the table abruptly, stood up and carried her plate to the sink.

"What, where are you going" he sputtered. "This is the kind of whack shit I'm talking about."

"Look, I've been a freaking useless slug all day," she explained. "I just need to do something. That's all. Thanks for cooking. If you leave the dishes, I'll do them when I get back."

"Jesus, now you're scaring me," he said, holding his hands up in mock terror.

She smirked and chuckled wryly.

"You're going over there, aren't you?" he asked suddenly.

"I, I'm just gonna pull the camera," she insisted. "There's no point in leaving it. Or the trap either really for that matter. Look, I just... it'll bother me, you know it will."

Some of that was true. It was a loose end now and she'd pick at it until it frayed if she didn't fix it.

"Let me go with you," he suggested, tossing his napkin on the table and grabbing up dishes. She was already shaking her head.

"No," she said adamantly. "I don't need a babysitter. I'm...good. I'll be fine, really."

He knew there was no point in arguing with her, she wouldn't change her mind.

"Thanks again," she said. She grabbed her keys and was gone before he could say anything else.

Normally she wouldn't do this at this hour, but she needed something to keep her hands and mind occupied. At least this way she could be productive as well as distracted. Besides, it wasn't like Rachel would expect her at this hour so she wasn't like to stumble onto her.

She parked her truck along side the dumpster enclosure and got out. Thankfully Puck had fixed the screaming door when he replaced the window. She also noticed he'd replaced the missing seat belt. She'd have to remember to throw some cash at him for everything. Before she got too far into the narrow passage between the dumpster and the concrete enclosure she took a good long look around, both inside and out side. She didn't need any kind of weirdness sneaking up on her – animal or human. It looked deserted. Satisfied, she shimmied past the dumpster and immediately went to work disconnecting the camera. Once she had it free, she put it on the ground and turned to pack up the trap. That's when movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.

"Oh shit," she said quietly, her stomach leaping up into her throat. There was a spotlight shining down into the area, so she could see pretty well. She took a few cautious steps toward the trap, then stopped short, peering over it.

She did an honest-to-goodness double-take. Then a smile slowly crept its way across her face.

"Hello there," she said in hushed tones. "It's nice to finally meet you."

She reached into her shirt pocket and pulled out a can, then she knelt down and cracked the top.

=^..^=

When she dialed Rachel's number, Quinn was surprised to see her hands were literally shaking. Nervous energy, adrenaline, that's all it was.

It rang for a long time before Rachel finally picked up. Quinn was starting to think she wasn't home.

"Hello?" she said.

Quinn frowned. Why such a formal greeting – she had to know who was calling?

"I'm coming over, " Quinn told her, barely able to contain her excitement.

Rachel hesitated.

"Um, well," she said, uncharacteristically quiet. "It's just, well, Finn is here."

Quinn chuckled at Rachel's nervousness. For once, it was probably unwarranted.

"I don't care," Quinn told her. It was the truth, even if the angles and shades were a little fuzzy. "I'll be there in about ten minutes."

"Quinn, I..." Rachel stammered, but Quinn just disconnected the call.

She laughed out loud. She could already imagine Rachel biting that deliciously full lower lip and fretting, wondering how to make this situation work.

"So maybe you'll get a little taste of awkward for a change, Ms. Berry, " Quinn murmured to herself.

=^..^=

"Who was on the phone?" Finn asked.

She wanted to tell him it was none of his business. She wanted to tell him to leave. She wanted to tell him a lot of things but she just couldn't bring herself to do any of them.

"It was Quinn," she told him. "She's coming over."

"I don't like her," Finn said, scowling.

"Yes, Finn," Rachel said with an eye roll and an exasperated sigh. "I think you've mentioned that now, at least a few thousand times already."

"Well, I don't," he repeated. "I would think you could be more considerate about it."

Rachel's lips tightened and her eyes went dark and angry.

"Hello," she snapped. "This is still my house. I happen to like Quinn. If you must know, I happen to like her a lot. In fact, if it wasn't for you she and I ..."

Say it, just say it. If it wasn't for you...

The doorbell rang and cut her off before she could finish her thought.

Damn it, Quinn. She had almost...just shit.

Rachel grunted in frustration. Then she cast an angry glare angrily at Finn, daring him to move or speak. He quite wisely did neither. She huffed and strode to the door and opened it without looking.

"Hey," she said, finding Quinn waiting with a frown.

"You don't check to see who's knocking first?" Quinn asked.

Rachel smirked.

"No, never," she said. "I just fling the door open wide every single time."

"That's about what I thought," Quinn said. "Hi."

She stood staring at Rachel. She couldn't keep the grin off her face and Rachel knew she was up to something.

''What's going on?" Rachel asked suspiciously.

"Aren't you going to ask me in?" Quinn asked, squinting at her.

"Quinn, I..." she started, trying to get her thoughts together.

Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Rachel, take five steps back so I can come inside," she instructed, leaving no room for refusal.

Rachel moved back and Quinn pushed the door open wide.

"Close your eyes," she said firmly.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked nervously.

Quinn scoffed impatiently. This wasn't as much fun as she'd hoped it might be.

"Rachel, close your eyes. I have something for you. It's going to make you very happy," Quinn said, her voice low. She leaned in closer. "I know how much you want this."

She grazed Rachel's cheek with a fingertip.

"Oh my god, Quinn," Rachel hissed in a whisper. "Finn is in the other room."

Again, Quinn rolled her eyes and chuckled.

"So? This doesn't concern him," she told her. "Not really."

"Of course it does, " Rachel said firmly. "It concerns all of us."

"Rachel!" Quinn said in a harsh whisper, getting tired of the banter. "Stop it, I'm not going to kiss you."

Rachel sputtered, her mouth moving with no sound, brow knitted heavily.

"You aren't?" she asked, quite clearly disappointed.

"No, chickadee, " Quinn said.

"Oh," Rachel said quietly. The pink rose quickly up to her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I thought..."

"I know what you thought," Quinn said, cutting her off. "You thought wrong."

"I'm...so..." she said.

"Uh huh, sorry. Rachel, you need to stop being sorry for things," Quinn said peevishly.

Rachel looked wounded, but Quinn wasn't sorry she said it.

"Rachel," Quinn said again, trying to get her to focus her attention.

"What?" she asked curtly.

"I'm not going to ask you again," Quinn said sternly. "Close...your...eyes."

Rachel inhaled deeply, then fluttered her eyelids shut.

Quinn reached beside the door and picked up the cardboard box. She put it down in front of Rachel and then firmly closed the door. Rachel stood obediently, eyes shut, hands opening and twisting on the hem of her shirt. She was nervously worrying her lip.

Quinn thought seriously about stealing a kiss, but about that time F-Troop strolled into the room.

"What's going on?" he asked, frowning. Quinn put a finger to her lips and he immediately got a scowl on his face.

Quinn ignored him. She bent and unfastened the handle of the box and opened it slightly

"Okay, chickadee, open your eyes," she told her, smiling broadly at her.

Rachel blew out a breath and slowly opened her eyes. She looked at Quinn and then looked down and saw the box. It moved. Just a little at first, then a little more and finally, a lot. The top parted and the scruffy, sulky face of the former-fugitive known as Nicky Arnstein appeared.

Rachel's hands flew to her mouth.

"Oh, Quinn, oh my god, oh, oh," Rachel chanted. She actually rocked back in forth in delight and then bent down and scooped the filthy, lumpy cat out of the box into a hug, raining kisses all over him and sobbing into his fur.

"Nicky, Nicky," she cooed over and over. "I was so worried, so worried."

The cat peered over Rachel's shoulder at Quinn with a bored, almost pained, expression as if to say, "See, see how she is?"

Quinn laughed and quickly covered her mouth with her hand.

Suck it Arnstein, she thought. You have no idea how good you have it, you silly, spoiled cat.

"Bad. Bad, bad, bad kitty," Rachel said now scolding him and holding him at arm's length, her hands underneath his front legs. Quinn didn't think it was the appropriate time to point out how much cats really hate being held like that.

To his credit, the Nickster dangled briefly, taking the reprimand, before he starting kicking and squirmed to be released. Rachel placed him gingerly on the ground. He walked around Rachel a few times, sniffed a few things, then started rubbing against her legs and meowing loudly.

Liar, Quinn thought, Fat poser. You just want food. I hope she puts you in a sailor suit.

Rachel's eyes found Quinn's and she beamed at her through happy tears. Without a single word, she just threw herself into Quinn's embrace.

"Thank you," she said softly, lips brazenly pressed against Quinn's neck. "Thank you so much. I can't even begin to tell you what this means to me."

Quinn didn't need to be told.

"You're welcome, chickadee," Quinn said, hugging her fiercely. She knew her guest was probably close by, maybe even watching them, but at this moment she didn't even care. She hugged Rachel like she'd never let go, she even lifted her off the ground.

"I can't believe you found him," she said. "You are the cat's meow."

Quinn gave a quiet laugh.

"Good timing," she said honestly. "That's all. Luck and timing, little one."

"I know you never would have stopped looking," Rachel said, her lips pressed to Quinn's ear. "I know it."

Quinn inhaled deeply, but didn't respond. It was true, though she'd never told Rachel as much. Rachel planted a wet kiss on her neck and then stepped back, smiling at her. Nicky came up between them, rubbing against Rachel's legs as if he'd never been gone.

"I'd probably take him to the vet and have him checked out, just to be safe," Quinn suggested.

Rachel was nodding and blinking. She was getting panicked. What if there was something wrong with him? What if he had been bitten by something? What if he ate poison?

Quinn felt Rachel reaching out for her hand, but she didn't make a move to help her find it.

"You might want to bathe him, too," Quinn added. I'd also strongly, strongly suggest dosing him for fleas. You'll be sorry later if you don't."

Rachel was chewing on her thumb nail. She cast a nervous glance at Quinn.

Quinn seriously doubted Rachel could do either task herself given Nicky's size and temperament. Her first instinct was to offer to help her, but she squelched it. She was going to suggest taking him to a groomer when she was interrupted.

"Wow, I guess you really did find him," Finn said, lumbering over to them.

He reached down to pet Nicky and the cat flattened his ears and droned. When the offending hand wasn't removed, he took a vicious swipe at it, narrowly missing. Quinn bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

"Nicky, no, no," Rachel said, shaking her finger at him. She dropped down beside him and he started purring.

"Sure looks that way, doesn't it," Quinn said, not giving an inch. "Not bad for a shameless grifter."

"Sorry I doubted you," he mumbled and held out his hand. She looked at him and then glanced over at Rachel, who was still crouched down talking to Nicky and apparently trying to rub all the fur off his head.

"No hard feelings," she said in a monotone, a sour look on her face. She took his hand and viced it, noting happily that his eye bugged out and twitched steadily until she turned it loose.

While Rachel was happily chattering away and preoccupied Quinn decided it was as good a time as any to make her exit. With a dismissive nod to the room's other occupant, she made her way to the door. After pausing for a moment, she worked Rachel's house key off her keyring and place it on the hall table where she was sure to notice it. Her hand was reaching for the doorknob when Rachel realized she wasn't still in the room. She looked anxiously around and saw her at the door.

"Quinn?" she called, scrambling to her feet and rushing after her.

"Hey," Quinn said, not quite meeting her eyes. "I'm just gonna take off."

Rachel smiled and stepped into her. She wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close. Quinn held her lightly. She felt Rachel's lips skim her cheek and press firmly beneath her jaw. Her fingers were playing on the back of Quinn's neck.

"Thank you so, so much," Rachel told her. "For everything. I, I can't even imagine...you're so..."

She couldn't find the words she wanted to say and she just tilted her head down on Quinn's shoulder instead.

This was precisely what Quinn was hoping to avoid.

"Let me go, sweetie," Quinn said quietly. She relaxed her grip so Rachel could step back.

Rachel whimpered; a tiny, fragile sound.

"What does that mean?" she asked, afraid to hear the answer.

"It means let me go. You have a guest and I'm intruding," Quinn said plainly.

Rachel tightened her grip, but Quinn didn't return the gesture. Confused, Rachel dropped her arms and stepped back, staring hard at Quinn.

"Q..Quinn?" she said haltingly.

Quinn didn't respond and when Rachel stepped toward her again, she moved back.

"I'm really pleased it all worked out, Rachel," Quinn said, swallowing hard. "I'm very happy... for you."

"Quinn, please..." she said, taking a step toward her again, her hand reaching out.

Quinn smiled.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening," she said. "Goodnight, Rachel."

She turned and pushed the door open.

The last thing Quinn heard as she closed the door was Nicky growling, Finn yelping like a girl and Rachel frantically repeating, "No, no, bad kitty,"

Quinn walked quickly to her car and got in. She hesitated for just a moment, then she backed out and drove quickly away. Rachel heard the tires burning rubber on the pavement. She walked to the window and glanced out, but Quinn was already gone. When she turned away she noticed the house key Quinn left behind on the table. She wasn't expecting that at all.

"Oh," she said quietly, reaching out to touch it. She closed her fingers around it and pulled her fist against her chest. Suddenly everything she was feeling rushed up into her throat and bubbled up into a sob. She rushed past Finn, who called after her, and disappeared into the bathroom shutting and locking the door behind her. She sat down on the edge of the bathtub and held out her palm, staring at the key.

God, metaphors.

Closing her fingers over it again, she pushed her fist against her mouth, dropped her head down and quietly cried.

=^..^=

Quinn walked into the house and tossed her keys on the table.

"Hey," Puck said, not looking up from the television.

"Hey," she muttered. She walked into the kitchen and rolled up her sleeves. She turned on the tap and let it heat up, filling the sink. Slowly, methodically, she did the dishes, then wiped down the counters and the table.

Drying her hands, she walked into the living room and stared at the television.

"So did you get the camera?" Puck asked.

"Uh huh," she said, her voice a dull monotone. "It's done."

"We'll set another location, maybe in the back." he suggested.

She was shaking her head.

"I found him," she said quietly.

Puck was only half listening.

"Uh huh," he said, still engrossed in the movie he was watching. "Yeah."

"It's done," she repeated.

With that, she dropped the dish towel in the floor and walked to her room. She shut the door and turned the lock, something she almost never did. When Puck knocked a short time later she didn't answer. He tried the knob and found it locked and frowned. After one more attempt he decided to leave her alone. Pie slept in his room that night on a pile of blankets.

Confused and unhappy, Loki slept on the floor in the hall between the two rooms when he wasn't frantically pacing and yowling at the top of his lungs.

=^..^=

She thought the first night would be the hardest, but it wasn't. Maybe it was because she was still so tired and sick. She slept, hard. The few times her phone chirped she didn't even stir.

As hard as it was she didn't even look at her messages the next morning. Instead, she went about her morning routine, then, on irrational impulse, there was some self-medicating and she went straight back to bed and slept for another eight hours.

It was late afternoon when she walked into the kitchen and handed her cell phone to Puck.

"Read them, " she told him, wiggling her phone at him. The message waiting button was flashing rapidly.

He just stared at her.

"Read them. Listen to 'em. Whatever. If it's just...if it's not about bleeding or dying, just save them...somewhere. Maybe I'll look at them sometime, just...later."

He didn't move.

"God, come on," she whined. "It's...just do it."

He took the phone. He pressed buttons and his eyes scanned the screen. She watched his face at first but even his reactions, as minimal as they were, proved too much temptation and she walked away waiting for him to finish.

"What about the voice mail?" he asked.

"God damn," she muttered. She took her phone and signed into her voice mail.

"Save 'em." she told him, walking away again.

After a few minutes he handed her phone back to her.

"Okay," was all he said.

"Okay," she repeated. She walk away a few steps then turned and came right back.

"Oh god," he muttered, trying to act like he didn't see her.

"Just, I mean, is she...?" Quinn said, panting anxiously.

"She's okay, Quinn," he said, putting his hands on the counter and staring down. "She's upset, she's... hurting, but she's okay."

"Good," she said nodding quickly. "Okay, that's good. Fine, right? It'll just work itself out."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Give it some time."

"Okay, sure," she said. "Thanks."

"You might...," he said reluctantly. "You might want to...turn that off."

He motioned toward her phone.

"It'll probably be easier," he added.

She just nodded, then turned and went back to her room. She didn't come out again for the rest of the day.

He exhaled deeply and kicking himself for not erasing Rachel's messages.

They started out pretty good. Hi. Just checking in. Thanks again. Wish you would pick up. Chit chat, small talk.

Then they took a turn for the melodramatic. Why? Did I do something? Lots of apologizing. I understand if you don't want to see me. I'm getting what I deserve. I shouldn't have taken advantage yesterday. It's been so long.

By the last of them – the ones from early morning, the couple of voice mail messages – Rachel was pretty much pure, raw pain. Heart wide open and bleeding profusely. Boyfriend or no boyfriend, if Quinn saw those, heard those, she'd be out the door, running on foot if necessary. He wanted to erase them, but he was too afraid of what she'd do to him if he did.

The next morning was a whole different state of mind. She practically yanked the door to her room off the hinges and it had gone steadily downhill from there. Everyone with an ounce of sense or self-preservation instinct gave her wide, wide berth. Even Loki scrambled under the couch when she walked into the room, watching until the coast was clear before coming out.

=^..^=

Brittany was in tears when Puck walked through the office door. When he asked what was wrong she just stared at him and shook her head. He scowled heavily and stalked toward Quinn's office. For two days she had been a holy terror; an absolute raving lunatic. Everyone avoided her if at all possible. He stayed away from the house hoping that eventually she would calm down and come to her senses, but apparently that wasn't happening.

"What the fuck, Quinn?" he demanded angrily.

She rolled her eyes up at him, but didn't say anything.

"Well?" he asked again.

"What in the hell are you talking about?" she said, finally.

"Why is Brit crying?" he snapped. "What did you do?"

Quinn frowned.

"I didn't do anything," she protested.

It was the truth. She hadn't even spoken to Brittany or anyone for that matter. "If you're so concerned, go ask her."

He grunted and stomped off. He went back into the lobby, sat down in front of Brittany's desk and just stared at her.

"I'm not telling you anything," she said, refusing to look up at him.

He kept staring. He leaned his elbows on her desk and stared.

When she tried to get up, he put his foot on the wall, blocking her way and she was forced to sit back down again.

"I can't," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not supposed to."

He sighed deeply, but still didn't blink. He could do this for hours. He practiced – it was all part of his Intimidator schtick.

Brittany whimpered.

Not taking his eyes off of her, he pushed the tissue box slowly across her desk. She glanced up at it and her face crumpled.

"She's so miserable," she wailed, snatching up a handful of tissues, one right after another and molding them into a ball. She blew her nose loudly and dumped the soggy mess into the trash can.

Puck grimaced but kept staring.

Brittany tugged up more tissues.

"Everybody's unhappy, everybody's mad," she said, shaking her head. "Please stop staring at me. It's making me feel like throwing up.

He blinked and glanced away.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, fairly certain he was going to be sorry he ever started the whole thing.

"Quinn's very mean and unhappy, San is very mad and unhappy, and Rachel is just very unhappy," she said, sniffling. "You're just mad. And staring."

"And why are you crying?" he asked.

"Because I'm confused," she said. "And that's making me sad. And hungry."

He rubbed his forehead hard. There were questions, but questions sometimes made it worse where Brittany was concerned. Still, the last two days had been slightly shy of hell so how much worse could it get? Realizing that, he plowed ahead.

"Okay, so we ALL know what Quinn's malfunction is. What is San mad about?" he asked.

"She's mad at Quinn," Brittany said, staring at him now, wide-eyed.

He waited.

"Because...?" he pressed.

"Because Rachel's unhappy," she said.

Waiting.

"And that affects San... how?" he asked, trying to keep his cool.

"Because Rachel met San for lunch," she said. "And instead of talking about San stuff, she mostly cried the whole time because Quinn doesn't talk to her anymore."

"Oh," he said quickly.

God help him if Santana ever found out he had something to do with that last part.

"And why are you confused?" he asked.

"Because I don't understand." she said, tearing up again.

"What?" he said, slumping in his chair. "What don't you understand."

"If Rachel likes Quinn and Quinn likes Rachel," she said. "Why are they acting like this?"

Again, he flinched.

"I don't know, B," he said, looking away. "Because Quinn's stubborn and Rachel's something of an idiot? That's my guess."

"I don't think that's it at all," Brittany said. She looked at him and frowned. Puck could be so dense sometimes.

Everybody kept trying to blame Rachel, but Brittany didn't. She understood.

Rachel was scared. This was all brand-new to her. She just wanted someone to help her find her cat and instead here was this whole new life opening up under her feet. And then there was Quinn. She was now standing at the bottom of a cliff saying, "Jump, I'll catch you" and wondering why Rachel didn't just dive off.

Quinn was scared, too. Quinn was scared for different reasons though. And now she was mad on top of everything else. She felt like Rachel was pushing her away.

Brittany wanted to try and explain it to her, but every time she went near Quinn she just glared at her and made her stomach hurt.

Santana said not to bother or worry about it because Quinn liked being a...matador. Of course, that just made her more confused because she didn't understand what bullfighting had to do with any of this.

"Get your things," Puck said, standing up. "Let's go get something to eat."

She smiled.

"Can we have french fries?" she asked, sniffling.

"The world is your oyster," he said.

"I don't like oysters," she told him, frowning. "They taste like snot."

"The world is your tater tot then, " he said, trying again.

"Cheese fondue," she suggested. "Can the world be my cheese fondue."

"It absolutely is, Brit," he nodded. "It absolutely is."

"Should we tell Quinn?" she suggested nervously.

"Um, that would be hell no," he said, giving a hand wave. "She can get her own sunshine."

"Do they sell that around here?" she asked as he steered her out the door.

Talking with women always made his head hurt.

=^..^=

Santana walked through the doors and found the front room empty. She walked into the back and it was deserted as well. Quinn's car was in the lot so she knew she was there. No doubt she was holed up in her office, practicing her Molly Fucking Martyr of the Moment acceptance speech.

"Fuck bees," she muttered under her breath.

Without pausing to knock she burst through her office door and dropped herself into the chair in front of her desk. The puckered expression on Quinn's face told her she'd guessed right.

"Rude much" Quinn asked, glaring at her.

"Bitch much?" Santana snapped back.

They both sniffed simultaneously and gave each other the hand. It was as synchronized as though they'd practiced for months.

Santana broke first. She pulled out her cell phone, cued up a video and pushed play, cranking up the volume.

"I,I,I, can't even..." came through the speaker followed by full-blown, relentless sobbing.

Quinn recognized it from the first syllable. She closed her eyes and swiveled around, putting her back to Santana.

"Turn it off," she warned.

"She won't talk to me," Rachel said through her blubbering. "I can't get her to pick up the phone."

"Santana," Quinn said again, her voice forced through clenched teeth. "Turn it off or I swear..."

Santana hit pause.

"Why whatever is the matter?" she asked, full of mock innocence. "I thought you'd be excited to hear how my lunch meeting went."

She hit play.

"Can you please ask her to call me?" Rachel pleaded. "I know I don't have any right to ask, but just..."

Quinn jumped up and made a lunging grab for the phone, but Santana was expecting as much and yanked it out of reach.

Rachel's broken-hearted sobbing echoed around the office.

"Goddamn it, San," Quinn yelled. "Turn it fucking off."

Santana shook her head and killed the video. Quinn glared at her.

"Fuck you for doing that," she hissed.

"Fuck you right back," she barked. "You just couldn't leave it alone."

Quinn picked up her coffee mug and hurled it out the door. It smashed into something and disintegrated.

"Feel better?" Santana asked dryly.

"Not at all," Quinn admitted and fell back into her seat, pulling her arms up over head.

Santana sat back down, waiting.

"Where is everyone?" she asked, remembering the office was deserted.

Quinn shrugged.

"If it helps, you look much worse than she does," Santana told her.

Quinn chuckled lightly.

"Then again, she was better going in." she added smirking.

"True," Quinn admitted, almost smiling.

"Call her," Santana said non-nonchalantly. "Pick up the damn phone and call her."

Quinn glared at her.

"And we were doing so well, too," she hissed.

"I'm serious, " Santana said emphatically.

"So am I," Quinn countered.

"Get up," Santana said, jumping to her feet.

"No," Quinn said, rolling her eyes.

"I'm serious, Q," she said, softening her tone. "Shut this miserable place up and come with me."

Quinn eyed her suspiciously

"Where" she asked slowly.

"I don't know about you," Santana said. "But I need a drink."

Quinn scoffed.

"Seriously, doll," Santana insisted. "You're much better company when you've been drinking. Come on., my treat."

"No Rachel talk, " Quinn said.

"Okay, no Rachel talk, " Santana agreed, fingers crossed firmly.

"And you will not play that fucking video again?" Quin continued.

"Nope," Santana said. "Girl Scout's honor."

No need, she'd already emailed it Quinn's home and work email.

"You were never a fucking Girl Scout," Quinn sneered.

"True," Santana said. "But goodness knows I've eaten my share of their cookies. That should count for something."

She smirked.

"I'm telling Brittany, " Quinn said, feigning shock.

"Like she doesn't know," Santana said, shrugging. "Come on, we got business anyway."

Quinn looked at her and narrowed her eyes.

"For reals, Q, " she said. "Word is that our little senior project is making the rounds again."

"Oh," Quinn said, nodding. She'd quit even thinking about their script. She left all that up to Santana.

"Call Brit and tell her you're leaving," Santana instructed.

"I can't," Quinn admitted.

"Why not?" Santana asked, confused.

"I don't have my phone," Quinn told her sheepishly.

"Why not?" Santana demanded.

"Because..." Quinn said, but didn't finished.

"That's pathetic, Quinn," Santana scoffed. "I mean seriously, ridiculously pathetic."

Santana pushed her non-too-gently through the office toward the door.

"Were you serious...?" Quinn asked, locking the front door. "Does she really look okay?"

Santana laughed. Quinn had lasted a whole 15 minutes before bringing up Rachel again. That was actually 13 minutes longer than she thought she would.

O.M.G, you two idiots deserve each other, Santana thought, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, Romeo," she said, nudging her. "Aside from a massive case of annoying, whiny glazed donut, she looked pretty smoking."

Quinn didn't now if that made her happy or sad.

If nothing else, she knew that Rachel was as miserable without her as she was without Rachel. That had to be a step in the right direction, didn't it?

=^..^=