A/N: Hope everybody likes this one. Happy St. Patrick's Day.

Chapter 12

The room was dark and gloomy. I had the drapes drawn and the lights off. I was propped up on my bed by a mountain of pillows, with my laptop in front of me. There were empty cookie boxes, pop bottles, and styrofoam plates discarded all over the place. I was still in my pajamas. I had been in these pajamas for three days.

See, here's the thing – right after I got suspended, I felt a little crazy and restless, being confined to one room. I had climbed out onto the roof a few more times, playing games on my phone or reading magazines. But I didn't venture beyond my dorm room during school hours; if I did, I was invariably questioned by some adult or another, and they sent me back. So at least from the hours of 7:45 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. I was a prisoner. After the first few days, I stopped leaving the dorm after school let out, because even the grounds of Atherton felt confining and I felt like all the girls were watching me. Quinn had tried to tell me it was nonsense, but I didn't buy it. They stared at me like I was an interesting specimen beneath a microscope. It got unnerving.

Therefore, I had asked Brittany what a good series was to start watching, and she recommended One Tree Hill. I had signed into her parents' Netflix account and had been watching the drama unfold between the characters for the last three days, almost nonstop.

"Oh, Lucas," I murmured, digging around beside me for a bag of chips, not bothering to take my eyes off the screen, "Why won't you just be with Peyton?" I chuckled. "Or better yet, forget you. Brooke and Peyton should be together."

I heard the door open and then close with a determined slam. I furrowed my brows but didn't bother looking up.

"Hey, Q."

She didn't really say anything, but marched straight over to the drapes covering the window and snapped them open, flooding the room with light.

"Aiie! Hey! Warn somebody before you do that!" I said, heatedly, turning to block my laptop from the glare and burrowing even further into the pillows.

"Santana." Quinn's voice was measured and calm. I didn't look at her, just clicked the volume up on my laptop.

"Santana Lopez." Quinn definitely had a mommy tone now. I scowled, folding into a laying position with the laptop propped up on the pillows next to me, and yanked the blankets up around my face, my back to Quinn. I was wise to her, and it wasn't going to work.

"We're getting you out of this room today," She said, evenly, and walked over to rip the blankets off of me. I set my face in a scowl but didn't take my eyes off the screen. "You need to take a shower. You need to change your clothes. And, for the love of god, you need to brush your hair."

I knew she was right. My hair was in disarray beyond mention. I hadn't bothered doing anything to it since I hadn't bothered leaving my bed. I didn't even remember what day of the week it was.

"You're supposed to go back to classes day after tomorrow." Quinn said, a little more coaxingly, as if that would motivate me to get out of bed. No, not really. I ignored her.

Suddenly, I felt her hand grasp around my wrist, and she pulled me with one swift motion off of the bed. Thunk. I splayed on the floor unceremoniously, my legs twisted up in the sheets. "Shit!" I yelled, because a sharp pain was radiating from my tailbone and my heels, where they'd slapped against the floor with force. I glared at Quinn, finally feeling the motivation to get up, because now I wanted to hit her.

As if she were prepared for this response, she smiled down at me, spreading her arms in a come-and-get-me kind of gesture. I kicked the sheets off from around my feet and hopped up, fully intending to tackle the blonde, but she was too fast – she sprinted for the bathroom. I followed her, and as if on cue, she slammed the door closed behind me. I was caught a little off guard, blinking at the bright lights that flipped on above the vanity.

"Now," Quinn said carefully, as if talking to a child or a dangerous animal, "You have to get naked. You're going to take a shower. And we're going to go into town."

I frowned at her, trying to ignore my reflection in the giant mirror, because it was just a travesty. I felt the smallest pang of humiliation, thinking that I'd let Quinn see me like this – I had never seen myself like this, unless I was really sick.

"What's even in town?" I muttered, then began stripping off my pajama bottoms and shirt. They were a little crusty. Ew.

"Joy says there's a little pool hall-slash-bar place called the Armadillo Cowboy." She pressed her lips into a thin smile at the face I made about the name. "They have karaoke on Mondays, and they let anyone 18 and up enter."

I met her gaze in the mirror briefly, still stunned at the horror of my hair – it was like, eight inches tall, for god's sake – and then quickly slipped my underwear off and unsnapped my bra. I felt a little awkward being all naked in front of Quinn, but only a little. "Neither one of us is eighteen." I muttered, sliding the door open and twisting on the water faucets.

"Apparently Miss Holiday knows the owner," Quinn said over the sound of the shower spray hitting the tile. "She has some kind of deal with him, that the members of Vox can come in on karaoke night and sing if we want. We get unlimited cheese fries."

I rolled my eyes. "Quinn, what is your obsession with grease and carbs? You're going to be the size of a bus by the time you're thirty."

Quinn scoffed, and I could hear her puttering around in the bathroom. "Oh my god," She said, horror coloring her voice. "Santana, your clothes –"

I cut her off. "Just leave them alone, Quinn, I'll clean them up when I'm done." I felt a blush color my features and was grateful for the division of the glass wall. So, I'd been a little remiss in the personal hygiene department, so what? I slapped a palm full of shampoo against my hair, scrubbing furiously.

"Have you met any of the other Vox girls?" I asked, not quite sure if Quinn was still with me. I hadn't heard the door open, though, so I assumed she was still there.

"Yeah, a few of them. Practice officially starts Wednesday at 4. I guess that's good for you, since you'll be off suspension." Her voice was musing. "I sort of wonder if Miss Holiday didn't plan it like that on purpose."

I shrugged. Who cares? "I highly doubt it. Why would she specifically plan to start Vox meetings around my suspension?"

"Joy says that last year they started the same day everyone got their e-mails, and she didn't know why it had been pushed back a week."

I was facing the shower spray, so I almost jumped out of my skin when I turned around and saw that Quinn had peeked her head in and was watching me.

"Hey!" I yelped, indignant. "Do you mind?"

Quinn flashed me a devilish grin, but didn't retreat from the shower stall. "It's just, it's been so long since I've seen you clean, I'm a little mesmerized."

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my growing anxiety about being so utterly exposed like this. It was unsettling. I had to fight the urge to cover my breasts or turn away from her. I scowled, squirting conditioner into my hand and slathering it through my hair. "Stop watching me, you perv," I told her, reaching for my loofa and my body wash.

She just smirked, cocking her head at me. This was beyond weird. I've never had somebody just watch me shower before. I inexplicably felt like she was judging me, and I didn't like it. Quinn had no room to talk – although she has a fine body, she had undergone a pregnancy. Plus she was much more liberal with the salt and fat nowadays. I had to fight back the urge to spat pithy remarks at her, because it was the only kind of defense I had. I swallowed every one that surfaced, trying to focus on scrubbing every inch of my skin, totally aware of the way Quinn was staring at me.

"You know when I realized you probably had the hots for me?" Quinn asked, suddenly. I glared at her, running the soapy sponge over my neck and shoulders.

"That time we took a shower together." She went on, not waiting for me to respond. "See, for me, it was no big deal.. I didn't think you did much beyond kiss Brittany, and hell, I'd done that with Rachel. Plus we'd seen each other a million times in the showers after Cheerios practice." She quirked her face into a satisfied smile. "I couldn't stand the idea of you standing out in our room and maybe touching something with all that mud on you. I already knew you weren't exactly the cleanest person."

"Are you ever going to stop bitching about that?" I asked, because it was getting a little old.

"No." Quinn said. "Anyway, I thought you were just being self-conscious or something. I knew you were being weird about changing in front of me too. I kind of thought maybe it was because I told you that thing about Rachel, but decided it wasn't.. because, well, I'm not 'gay,'" She smirked at the pointed look I threw her.

"I told you once before, and I'll say it again: I'm just Santana-sexual."

I jerked with surprise at that sentence, and nearly crashed to the floor again, since the bottom of my foot was slippery. "Holy shit!" I said, smacking my elbow against the tile and bruising my knee.

Quinn had broken up into a gale of laughter, but she still reached in and grabbed me by the upper arm to steady me. "You're pretty clumsy, Santana," She said in a mocking tone. "I don't know how you manage to pull off all those forward handsprings without breaking a wrist or something."

I glared at her, my face burning. "Can you please stop calling it that? If you're anything, you're bisexual." I was embarrassed at my sudden plummet against the shower wall, but even more mortified at that term.

"I don't see why you're so obsessed with labels," Quinn said, innocently, as I went back to rinse myself off. "And anyway, I don't think I'm bisexual, either. I don't get the hots for other girls.. only you." She smiled primly.

I snorted, accidentally inhaling water from the spray, and then choked. This was great. I was going to drown in a shower. I gasped, turning my face away from her. "Quinn, you have to stop saying things like that."

"No, I don't think so. It's cute to watch you squirm." She flashed me a deviant smile. "But anyway, there we were, in the shower together.. and you were acting like one of those shy little girls at the YMCA, afraid to look at the women changing or something. It was pretty cute. After you almost killed yourself from me rubbing that mud off of you, I realized it was because you were trying not to look at me." She grinned. "It wasn't too far of a leap after that."

I scowled, working my hands through my hair to make sure all of the conditioner was gone. "Don't flatter yourself, Blondie. I was just being polite. It's not courteous to stare at someone while they bathe." I gave her a pointed look. She just smiled.

I flipped the nozzles that controlled the hot and cold water off, then turned to Quinn, dripping. "Do you mind?" I said, edging in closer, but still out of arm's reach. I had the weird feeling that she was going to try to cop a feel, and that just wasn't fair – she doesn't get to touch me while I'm naked unless she's naked, too.

"Not a bit." Quinn smirked, backing away from the entrance to the shower stall. I slid the door open, reached for a towel, and wrapped it around myself before I stepped onto the bath mat.

I was feeling a little uncharitable, both from the discomforting experience of having somebody watch me during the majority of a shower, and from the welts I felt rising along my knee and elbow. My face was set in a mask of suppressed anger, and I glanced at Quinn, who was leaning against the bathroom wall, watching me, with a haughty little smirk on her lips. I scowled, reached over, and ran my wet hand through her hair quickly, mussing it.

"Damn it, Santana!" She said, genuinely irritated. I flashed her a mocking grin. "Now I'm going to have to re-flat iron it." She was pushing the hair back down, but it was useless. Coupled with the steam of the room, the moisture was making her hair frizz.

Xxxx

A few hours later, we were sitting with a group of girls, numbering about fifteen in all, at an arrangement of small tables with chairs in front of a stage. The place was dark and smoky. The front half of the building was dedicated to the karaoke portion, with the pool halls spread out towards the back, and the bar running along one side and raised up a bit on some steps. I had carefully applied my makeup and done my hair, and selected clothing that made me seem older. I had definitely planned to try to get a few drinks out of this little visit.

Quinn and I sat with Joy and another girl, Carla, though the whole group was pretty much sitting together. Carla was a sophomore and one of Joy's cousins. Apparently Joy had a lot of cousins, and they all went to Atherton. I wondered if she was Catholic or something.

"What are you going to sing, Santana?" Carla asked me, with barely masked enthusiasm. She had decided to like me, for some reason, and it was kind of annoying. She had a hero-worshipping quality about her, and I think it was because she, like Joy, was slightly awkward and kind of a misfit around the sleek, glossy, blonde pack of Atherton students. She had light brown hair that curled riotously, the same unfortunate mask of freckles as her cousin, and even wider hips.

"I'm not sure yet. Maybe some Britney Spears," I said, remembering Brittany's zeal about the homecoming assembly at McKinley.

"Oh, I love Britney Spears!" Carla gushed. I had my arms crossed across my chest, my legs crossed, and one foot rocking impatiently.

"Of course you do," I said, by way of filling the silence. Carla seemed satisfied with this and gave me a dopey smile. I rolled my eyes in Quinn's direction, almost begging her to help me with the girl.

"Hey, Carla? Do you want to go get us some cheese fries?" Quinn asked sweetly. She had already sent her away to get everyone waters a few minutes ago.

"Sure!" Carla squealed, hopping up from the table.

I pressed my fingertips into my temple, trying to ward away a headache. "She's so.."

"Nice!" Quinn interrupted, smiling blithely at Joy. Joy returned her smile but didn't say anything. She seemed down about something.

"What's up with you, Blissful?" I said. I had made a habit of trying to find alternate ways to say 'joy,' since I thought it was an awful name, but there were several more awful synonyms to the word. I had looked it up in a thesaurus.

She perked up a little bit at that, though she threw me a confused look, like maybe she hadn't quite figured out why I was calling her something else. "Nothing. Bummed about a grade I got in chemistry."

Quinn looked at her sympathetically and I had to fight back the urge to roll my eyes. Really? She was letting a grade get her down? "Joy, you need some excitement in your life. Do you have a boyfriend?"

The girl turned a deep shade of maroon at the mention of a boyfriend. Carla returned, setting down several trays of fries covered in that bright orange, liquid, plastic-y looking cheese. All three of them dove in, and I just wrinkled my brow. "Are you kidding me? This doesn't look edible. It can't be healthy."

"Santana," Quinn said around a huge mouthful. She definitely looked less sexy while scarfing down fried potatoes and artificial cheese, and I made the mental note to tell her about it later. "They don't allow MSG in any of the food at Atherton. Our bodies are starving for it."

I laughed. "Seriously? Doesn't MSG cause cancer or something?"

Quinn shrugged, piling more fries into her mouth.

"That's a flattering look, Blondie," I told her, raising a brow slightly. She chuckled, then scooped up some excess cheese on her finger and reached over, wiping it down my cheek.

"Ah! Quinn, what the fuck!" I scowled, reaching for a napkin. The other two girls looked at each other, obviously uncomfortable with the expletive. I had to fight the urge to blow up on them. I had to keep reminding myself that these girls were Quinn's friends, and by extension, were the only people at this school who didn't think I was some kind of hoodlum out for blood. I wasn't making the best impression, probably.

"Do you guys want to sing something all together?" I asked, trying to be nice. So far, nobody from Atherton had gone up to sing, and I was getting tired of hearing the local yokels croon bluegrass songs about losing their girl and moonshine.

"Sure," They all chorused, and I stood up, making my way over to the signup sheet. I scribbled the name of a Spice Girls song – rolling my eyes at the sure unrestrained exhilaration that Joy and Carla would have for the choice – and then angled my way towards the bar.

I was wearing a tight black skirt, knee high black boots, and a red top that showed a dangerous amount of cleavage. I had done my best to appear older, but I had a fake ID wedged in my bra, along with my credit card and my cell phone, if the bartender wasn't impressed with my efforts. I realized the only way I was going to make it through the evening without decking one of my fellow students was to be happily buzzed.

"What can I get for you, darlin'?" The bartender drawled, a hideous oaf of a man with a light pelt of hair covering his arms, back, and most of his face. He stank.

I fought back a grimace and gave him a winning smile. "Can I have four rattlesnakes, please?"

His eyebrows shot up. "I had you pegged for a tequila girl." He flashed me a smile, then walked away to make the shots. I sighed, leaning on the bar, turning to survey the room. There was a nice little crowd building, though it wasn't busy by any means. But it was only barely five o'clock on a Monday night. I hoped it picked up the later it got, because I really wanted to dance.

I slapped my dad's credit card down on the bar when he came back, holding all four shots with one hand. I thanked him when he handed me back the card, congratulating myself at how easy that had been. I sat down next to Quinn, shoving a glass towards each of the other girls. I smiled. "Cheers!" I tossed the shot back. It was sweet, and tasted like a cherry jolly rancher. I barely discerned the alcohol, which was why I'd picked this particular drink.

"What is that?" Joy asked, speculatively. She sipped at the wide brim cautiously.

"It's called a rattlesnake, and it's delicious."

Quinn elbowed me forcefully, her eyes wide and angry. I gave her an innocent smile.

Carla didn't hesitate, she just lifted the class and slammed the drink back, a reflection of what I had done. She coughed a little bit.

"Whoa! Good work, Pippa," I said, smiling.

Quinn leaned in close to me, causing my stomach to tighten in anticipation. She whispered in my ear, "Do not get these girls anything else to drink," her tone was deadly serious and warning, but all I could concentrate on was her breath against my skin and how it made my whole body heat up.

"Why not?" I whispered back, though with much less subtlety. "They need to loosen up."

"Santana," Quinn squeezed her hand against my forearm. "I'm warning you. You can't get them drunk. They don't even know that that's alcohol."

I looked at the two speculatively, and realized she was right. Joy was sipping the little glass, and Carla's cheeks were suddenly flushed. I wondered if this was the first time they'd had alcohol in their lives. I grinned a bit at that, turning to Quinn. "Okay, I'll make you a deal, princess. I'll downgrade the Wonder Twins to Pepsi, if you promise to match me, drink for drink."

Quinn pulled her face away from me, scowling deeply. "I have to drive."

"Hey, Joy!" I said, over the din of the place, and she turned her head towards me. "Do you mind driving us back, later?"

"No," Joy said, puzzled. "But.. why?"

"We're going to be really tired from singing and dancing," I told her, nodding. Joy seemed genuinely confused by it, and I thought she was a little endearing, even though she was ridiculously naïve.

"It's settled," I told her, smiling triumphantly.

"Santana, the last time I got drunk, I got pregnant," Quinn hissed.

I chuckled, lowering my brows. "No chance of that happening again, sweetheart. Besides, I thought the last time you got drunk you made out with Rachel?" I asked, all innocence. Quinn's blush darkened.

"We're going to go to jail," Quinn said in defeat. I just laughed.

"Are you a rum or tequila kind of girl?" I asked, standing back up. Quinn widened her eyes at me, throwing terrified looks at the other two girls. They were absorbed in the man belting out a country rendition of 'Home' by Michael Buble.

"Rum it is," I said, since she didn't answer me. I moseyed back to the bar and ordered two large rum and cokes, easy ice.

Several drinks and a few off-tune ballads later, and Quinn was well and truly drunk. I discovered she had a penchant for the Cranberries songs and was decidedly less politic with her words with a few drinks in her. It was adorable. I had held back on the liquor once I realized Quinn was going to get smashed.

Around nine o'clock, the place was really heating up, and most of the Atherton girls were relaxing and dancing, singing, and generally acting like regular teenagers, not the polished automatons that stalked the halls of the school. It reassured me to know that all of my fellow Vox clubbers were at least partially human.

"I wanna dance," Quinn slurred into me, after climbing down from the stage where she'd sang a particularly twangy Reba song, much to the adulation of the crowd. I didn't like country, and I doubt I ever would, but Quinn was still entertaining to watch.

"Okay, Blondie. Go find you somebody to dance with." There had been a tall man, youngish looking, with a cowboy hat on who'd been staring at Quinn for a while. I thought it would be cute to see her try to flirt while entirely too drunk.

"I just did!" Quinn said brightly, grabbing my hand. I laughed, allowing her to tug me onto the dance floor. I was thoroughly enjoying this side of Quinn, the one who let loose and had fun. I rarely saw it.

I glanced around, deciding that the amount of people on the floor was thick enough to mask us from the general view of the bar. Quinn started dancing, wildly, and it made me laugh. She was hysterical. She wasn't that great of a dancer, anyway – not as good as Brittany, or even me – but she had a kind of fluid grace that stuck with her, even beneath several layers of booze.

The song switched to something slow and mournful, and before I could object, Quinn was wrapping herself around me, arms twining around my neck. I froze, a little startled at the motion, and quickly looked around to make sure nobody was watching us. Everyone else was too absorbed in their own dance partners to care, and none of the Atherton girls were dancing. I sighed, deciding to relent a little bit, because I could feel Quinn's breath on my neck and the closeness of her body was making my heart thud thickly in by chest. I wrapped my arms around her waist, hugging her briefly, before swaying with her in time to the music. I rested my head against hers, nuzzling my cheek into her hair.

"I love you," Quinn murmured against me, and it caused my heart to skip a beat and my eyes to flash open.

"Um, I love you too, Quinn," I said, a little uncomfortably. I was worried she was going to start crying or something. Drunk people were entirely too unpredictable.

"You're so sexy," She slurred, turning her head to press a kiss into my neck. I smiled, but kept my eyes scanning the room, afraid somebody would notice our closeness. So far, nobody had.

"You're not so bad yourself, Tinkerbell." I squeezed her reassuringly.

"This is getting hard." Quinn said, her words muffled against me. I was fighting the little quakes of desire that erupted from her lips moving against my skin and the tickle of her breath.

"We can sit down," I told her, a little relieved.

"Not the dancing." Quinn hugged me closer, and I continued swaying with the music.

I frowned, confused. I wondered if she was channeling Brittany or something, with the randomness of her words. "What's getting hard?"

Quinn didn't say anything for a moment, and I held my breath. "Just, everything." She said finally, quietly.

I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say.

Finally, the song ended, and I peeled myself away from Quinn, tilting my head to study her face. I was on the brink of asking her exactly what she meant – when a man stepped up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Can I have the next dance?" It was the man in the cowboy hat. He looked to be early twenties and seemed nice. I could smell his aftershave.

I gestured to him, and Quinn turned, seeming confused. I was relieved. I quickly walked back to where Joy and Carla were sitting, now with a throng of other Atherton girls.

I reached for my rum and coke, now watered down and going warm, and drained it. I had to fight back the slight panic that was building at what Quinn had implied. I wasn't letting my mind settle on it, instead focusing on watching Quinn dance with the guy and keeping half an ear in the conversation from my classmates.

I had been picking at the cuticle on my thumb when I heard a shout, and I glanced up, suddenly gripped by a combination of fear and anger when I recognized Quinn's voice. She was shoving the guy away from her and the motion made her stumble, so she nearly fell to the ground.

I was up and racing her way before she righted herself, clutching her by the elbow and steadying her. I turned my eyes to Cowboy Hat, suddenly filled with rage.

"What the fuck did you do to her, you redneck asshole?" I spat, over the loud thrum of the music. He seemed a little bewildered.

"Nothing," He said, holding his hands up in supplication. Quinn was standing beside me now and all I could see was red. I stomped up to the guy and shoved him, then cocked back and slapped him, hard, on the face.

"You crazy bitch!" He exploded, stunned. A group of other people were watching us now.

"Keep your hands to yourself, Bullwinkle!"

"What are you, her fucking girlfriend? Buncha dykes!" He spat, and a group of his friends were surrounding him.

Quinn's hand closed on my shoulder, stopping me from leaping forward and knocking the guy down – or at least trying. I had the feeling he had about eighty pounds on me, easy. And he looked pissed.

"It's time to leave now, Santana," Quinn said in a suddenly sober voice.

"Fucking backwoods prick." I snarled, letting her lead me away from the dance floor. The locals were watching us now and an even larger group of people were surrounding the man. He was talking in a loud voice and I could catch every other word, even over the music.

"Let's go." I snapped at Carla and Joy, who looked at us with wide eyes and nodded mutely.

With Quinn's hand clamped in mine, I stomped outside, not waiting for the other two to follow. I could feel the anger and fury building in me and I knew if I didn't get away from people, quick, somebody else was going to get it. I guided us to Quinn's car, yanked out her keys, and unlocked the doors, before opening the one in the back and shoving Quinn inside. She didn't resist, just sat down and let me close the door around her.

"That was stupid, Santana," Quinn said, once I'd gotten behind the wheel and slammed the door closed. I shrugged.

"Yeah well, so was that motherfucker."

Quinn sighed. "I'm sorry I got so drunk

"No biggie, Blondie," I said, feeling my anger melt away. Something about her did that to me, and I didn't understand fully. "Not like it would have happened without my help anyway."

Quinn laughed a little, though it sounded kind of sad. "That's true." She paused. "I'm sorry that he called you a dyke."

I met her eyes in the rearview mirror, and there was something troubled in hers. I only shook my head. "Who cares what he thinks? He's an ignorant pig boy. I bet he fucks his sheep."

Quinn smirked, but it didn't quite meet her eyes. "I get what you're so scared of, now."

I didn't say anything, and snapped my eyes away from hers, to stare out at the parking lot. When Joy and Carla got in the car, I started it, and started driving, refusing to think about what Quinn had said, or what it meant.

A/N: It's short, but I hope you'll review anyway. :)