CHAPTER 25

High School, Junior Year

There are a lot of things that get in the way of showing someone you love them

The rain had set about over the weekend. The clouds had rolled in, swirled for the afternoon and then settled in for the rest of the night. They covered the sky in a darkened grey blanket, so by the time the stars were due to come out, the night sky was so thick, you simply could not see them. Then the rain had started, softly at first, like small little pitter-patters against the window sill; and then as it had continued, it had become louder, sloshing down the drain pipes and spilling water from the gutters. Quinn had arrived at Rachel's house, completely drenched, shivering and in need of a new sweater.

In light of Quinn needing to strip and change, Rachel had never been happier.

It's funny how some people in your life can say the smallest things; just one sentence and it can change the way you think or feel in an instant. Small little words sometimes either break you or make you fall so deeply in love.

"Why do you love me?" Quinn asked staring at Rachel.

Rachel lifted her eyes from where she had been scribbling answers into her father's crossword; the sky had been glowing every few minutes as the lightning streaked across it, cutting through the clouds like knives do when slicing cheese.

"I have no idea," she responded.

There was a glint in her eye, the same one that brightened every time she would want just to stir Quinn.

Quinn bit her lip slightly.

"That," Rachel said, and Quinn frowned.

"What?"

"I love when you bite or lick your lips, because you're nervous or annoyed or you want me; or all three,"

Quinn smirked, "You just like my lips Rachel Berry? I knew you were just using me for your own sexual advantages,"

Rachel abandoned the crossword puzzle, and crawled along the floor towards her, pushing Quinn over and sliding on top of her, god when Rachel took control like this.

"Absolutely 100% accurate," she whispered, running her tongue across Quinn's lips.

Quinn trembled softly under her touch.

"Mmmm," Rachel grinned, "I love this," and she pressed her finger into the crevice of Quinn's collarbone.

"I love your eyes," and she kissed the tops of Quinn's eyelids.

"I love your hands," and she slid her palm against Quinn's.

Rachel stopped kissing her briefly, because she could tell Quinn was nearly ready to pass out. She was so drunk on Rachel.

"I love your strength," she said, locking Quinn's eyes, "I love your defiance, your humbleness and when you bitch slap Amber with your words, because you're head Cheerio, not her,"

Quinn gritted her teeth at the mention of Amber's name, "God baby you're meant to be turning me on not off,"

Rachel smirked, "I just love you Quinn, I just really, really love you,"

Quinn ran her hands down Rachel's spine, gripping her tiny waist and pressing her harder against her, grinning between Rachel's kisses.

"You are no one's, but mine… always," she replied and Rachel kissed her harder.

Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea to be playing heavy make out session on Rachel's fluffy rug, in the middle of her Dads living room.

Because the rug felt so fucking good

Her Dads could probably walk in at any second

And

c) The whole idea of being caught at any moment, was turning them both on so much, Quinn didn't actually realise when Rachel had managed to slip her hands under the sweater Quinn was wearing.

The more Quinn became familiar with Rachel's body, and how it felt with hers, the more she began to realise that being with a girl, or being with a boy, isn't about how their bodies look, it's about how yours feels with theirs. It was like electricity that surged through Quinn's body every time Rachel touched her, she would tremble every time Rachel trailed her lips from Quinn's and decided to plant them along her neck, or her collarbone, or sink them into her chest. Sometimes she could get so lost, the air would leave her brain, and she really would be like a small red balloon floating away into the stars.

"Quinn" Rachel said suddenly, interrupting Quinn's elation, "When are we going to have sex?"

Quinn nearly choked on air, "What?"

"Sex, Quinn, I want to have sex with you,"

And then everything just drained from Quinn's mind and she went into auto pilot.

"Smalls, that's a really big step,"

God Quinn was petrified of that word; she had used it so carelessly in the past; until one day suddenly that word became the reason for all the confusion in her life. Right now, it was still a word she was petrified of.

"But being with you that way means I get to show you how I feel,"

"Rachel," Quinn reasoned, "You don't need to have sex with me to show me how you feel, I know how you feel even when you just look at me,"

"But don't you want to make love in the middle of the night and then wake up together?"

God how was someone of their age supposed to look at it like that.

Puck didn't.

He just jumped at Quinn the moment she said. 'Take my shirt off', her skin crawled just thinking about it.

"Rachel, I want you, I really want you, but I'm not ready for that, please can you wait for me?"

Rachel seemed to think a moment, before her eyes trailed over Quinn's lips, "You're scared aren't you,"

Rachel knew. She knew everything Quinn felt and she didn't need to specifically say it.

Quinn nodded in response.

"Fives," Rachel said, brushing her nose against Quinn's, "We don't have to do anything you don't want to, remember what you told me in the back of the car? Do whatever feels natural?"

Quinn grinned, "I love the backseat of your car,"

Rachel rolled her eyes, "I'm trying to make you feel better,"

Quinn kissed her, "I know you are, and you do, I promise,"

Rachel went to say something; that was until the front door was burst open and her Dads walked into the house with the umbrella blown out backwards, and Hiram yelling about his hair.

Leroy froze in the doorway as he saw them tangled amongst the rug.

"RACHEL BERRY!" he shouted.

Rachel sheepishly crawled off Quinn, "Daddy, I swear it's not what you think! We were just practising planking!"

"On top of each other?" Hiram retorted and Rachel blushed.

"Leroy, Hiram, I swear we weren't going to do anything!" Quinn replied, crawling to her feet, although now that she stood up they both must have realised she was wearing one of Rachel's sweaters.

"Both of you upstairs now," Hiram said, "Quinn the storms too bad for you to drive home, but you both can go to bed early,"

"Dad I'm seventeen?" Rachel complained.

"Both of you upstairs now!" Hiram instructed.

Rachel grumbled before gathering up their notebooks and pulling Quinn up the stairs.

"We'll be having a discussion Rachel!" Leroy called after her, and then he turned to his husband. "Sweetheart, may I just point out that as punishment, you just sent them both to Rachel's room, and told Quinn to sleepover…."

Hiram thought on this a moment, "I knew I had something backwards…"

Before Quinn had tried out to be on the Cheerio's, she had read on the back of the audition leaflet that 'A good cheerleader is not measured by the height of her jumps, but by the span of her spirit'. Then she had auditioned in front of Sue Sylvester with Santana and Brittany to only have Sue scream into the megaphone that they looked like 'sloppy freak show babies'. Since then she'd learnt a lot about what it was, to be a cheerleader. The Cheerio's seem to have their own vocabulary. When they say words like "banana", "pretzel", "liberty" and "table top", chances are, they're not discussing fruit, food, freedom, or furniture. These words are code for their motions, jumps, and stunts.

At McKinley High, if you're a Cheerio, you're always popular, but what everyone seems to fail to realise, is that what they do, is actually much more, it's a sport, with its own vocabulary.

"I want you to remember Spirit Fingers!" Kurt said fanning himself with the brochure that he'd picked up from outside.

"Kurtastical," Santana reminded, "Stop thinking that Bring It On is how we do things, we're The Cheerio's we have our own style,"

"I'm so nervous," Quinn muttered.

"Q, you got this," Brittany smiled rubbing her back, "We get through regionals and we're a sure bet for nationals,"

"I know but they've made them so close together…" she replied.

"Yeah," Santana retorted, "Because the judges got mono when regionals were supposed to be held,"

"Just remember it's all about Spirit," Rachel quipped and she kissed Quinn's cheek, "You're spirit is my favourite," she whispered, and Quinn watched as she pried Kurt's hands away from the spray on glitter, to drag him into the stands.

Quinn could hear the crowd outside, as she nervously waited backstage with the rest of the girls. Regionals weren't as big as Nationals, but even so they were always held in these huge arenas, with a mat in the centre, a judging panel to the right and surrounded in rows of seats, that pushed up into the stands. This arena was fairly open, although you could tell they were having renovations done on the roofing.

The lights were being supported by timber beams held up by pillars and wires; it made Quinn nervous to think they could come down, even though the sponsors of the whole thing had assured that unless something extraordinarily heavy ploughed into them at some rapid rate, they were not coming down.

"Okay short skirts, you better kick ass out there,"

Quinn turned to see Coach Sylvester march towards where they had been stretching, "I've got an arch nemesis sitting on the judging panel,"

"You mean that news reporter guy?" Quinn asked.

She eyed her, "Just focus Q," she replied and she blew her whistle, which was completely unnecessary and it just nearly deafened them.

"Call it in girls," she said and they huddled around her.

"On the count of three," Quinn shouted and she saw Amber staring at her with this uneasy glare.

"1, 2, 3 CHEERIO's!"

Normally they had practised their routines so much over the school year, that when it came to major competitions and events, they knew them like the backs of their hands, they knew them so well they would be able to ignore the crowds, ignore all the judges eyes on them, and just do what they loved to do.

Dance and perform.

This felt different though.

There was something wrong.

Quinn could feel the disunity from the moment she stepped onto the blue mat.

Sue Sylvester was renowned for her incredible stunts, if you wanted a show; it was usually the McKinley Cheerio's that brought it. Everything went to plan in the first ten minutes of the routine. All the girls had been on perfect form, and Brittany never seemed to cease to amaze the crowd with her immaculate summersaults across the mat, her legs were prefect and it was all Quinn could do not to laugh as Santana tried to keep her cool.

But then the pyramid happened.

Everyone was in position; it formed exactly the way it should, with Quinn on top.

The judges were impressed, the crowd was impressed. Sue seemed satisfied.

Then it happened.

It happened so quickly, none of the girls knew what was going on other than the fact they were all sprawling to the ground. Amber had reached and stuck something in the side of Quinn's arm, it felt like this angry prick, like she had just jabbed her with a thorn. Quinn lost her balance, so did the girls beneath her, and then the whole pyramid fell. Amber obviously had not calculated for the fact, that this arena had pillars supporting the light beams above them, pillars that were only joined with wiring.

Five of the girls hit that wiring, causing it to shift, and the timber beam above them broke away and fell.

The girls scattered. Quinn pushed Becky out of the way, before one of the lights shattered to the ground just left to them.

There was a scream and eruption as the crowd witnessed what was going on.

Quinn whirled at the sound of that scream. It had been Brittany's.

When you watch something happen to one of your friends, your body does this thing, where it goes into a few micro seconds of shock, as though your brain can't actually believe what your eye's were witnessing.

The timber pillar had crashed down, and landed directly on top of Santana. She hadn't had time to move, she hadn't had any time to reach for anything, or roll away, or do anything to protect the timber from colliding with her head.

She fell like playing cards and dominoes across the mat.

Half the girls were already running towards her, but none of them had been as quick as Brittany.

"Get it off her!" Brittany screamed and using strength Quinn didn't even know she had, she managed to clear the pillar off her girlfriend.

"Santana," Quinn yelled, snapping back into whatever reality that was on right now, "Santana!"

"Oh god," Brittany cried, "Don't do this," she bundled Santana into her arms searching for anything that said she was still breathing "Please! Someone get help!"

There were too many people, half the crowd was pushing through to see the commotion, where was Coach Sylvester? Where were the adults? Why wasn't Santana moving?

"Get an ambulance," Quinn was yelling at the other girls, "NOW!"

She fell to her knees beside them, Santana sprawled across the floor. Blood was pulsating from her forehead, streaking through her hair, dripping down the side of her face.

"Santana open your eyes now," Brittany pleaded.

Quinn grabbed her wrist, where were you supposed to push to hear a heartbeat? Why wasn't she moving, please move, please just move.

There was too much yelling, to many cries asking if she was okay, and then suddenly Coach Sylvester was beside them.

"Brittany you need to let go, we need to keep her flat on the ground, head injuries are serious Brittany,"

Brittany wasn't listening, she was sobbing into Santana, begging her to just open her eyes.

"Brittany, I need you to listen to me now," Coach Sylvester was instructing.

Quinn had never seen her like this, she had never seen her so concerned, like something had just happened to one of her cubs and she needed to try and find a way to fix the problem.

"Santana please," Brittany said again, "Santana please, I love you"

They say that when a life is threatened, you can feel your heart in your ears, you can feel it beating faster and louder because all your senses kick into overdrive. Quinn could feel the sweat on her brow, she could feel the tears stinging the corners of her eyes, the lump as it had caught in her throat, the stinging of the carpet burns beneath her knees from where she had skidded to reach them, she could hear the whispers of strangers asking if she was dead.

No, she couldn't be, this wasn't happening; this was all some dream, some nightmare.

Have you ever been put in the situation where you just wanted one more conversation with someone who meant so much to you? One more conversation to go through all the things that you should have said, but always took time and moments for granted to actually say them. You could spend the rest of your life counting the days, but none of them would ever warrant or amount to that one conversation you just wish you had back. Quinn wanted to tell Santana how much she had grown, how much she had become this person with a soul, this person that was so loyal to her friends even in moments where she could have turned her back. The trembling began then, Quinn started shaking so much and she couldn't stop.

One thing made the shaking stop though.

It had everything to do with seeing Santana slowly groan and her eyes flutter open, "My head," Santana whimpered.

Brittany was still weeping, she raised her eyes in silence to the ceiling above them and she whispered thank you.

"I love you," she sobbed, cupping Santana's face and kissing her.

"Santana lay still please," Coach Sylvester was now saying and suddenly the entire arena came flooding back in rushes of shouting and bodies moving.

"The ambulance is almost here Santana," Quinn murmured, and even though the whole thing had been less than three minutes, it had felt like a whole lifetime.

Something fell into her, gripping her as tightly as possible and kissing her cheek. Quinn realised in relief that Rachel had managed to fight her way through the crowd.

"Smalls," she whispered, clutching her.

Kurt was by her side in seconds too, "What happened?" he demanded and he rounded on Coach Sylvester, "Is this what your teaching? Catastrophes? I will take legal action against you on behalf on my lady…"

Santana managed as smile, "Kurtastical…" she muttered.

"Stop talking Mr Hummel," Sue replied and she directed her attention to Becky, "Bring me towels for Miss Lopez, Becky".

Quinn could hear the tone in her voice. Sue was addressing everyone by their last name; this meant that she had genuinely just had the shock blown out of her.

Rachel tore off her sweater, "Apply pressure," she instructed and Brittany immediately placed the sweater to Santana's bleeding forehead.

"That was your favourite," Quinn whispered kissing her.

"San is more important," Rachel replied, her eyes still on Santana and Brittany.

"I love you," Quinn whispered, and suddenly Rachel was gasping again.

"Quinn!" she reasoned, grabbing her arm, "Quinn, why the hell is there pins in your arm?"

Quinn immediately looked to her arm, her eyes widening as she saw two shiny pins caught in her flesh, and then suddenly she felt queasy.

"Get them out!" Kurt said hurriedly and he reached down and removed them from Quinn's arm.

The small little dots trickled the slightest drops of blood.

"Quinn," Rachel said angrily, grabbing her, "Who the hell put pins in your arm?"

Quinn immediately looked at Brittany, whose face said everything they both already knew, they were going to kill Amber.

Later that week

Once upon a time Quinn believed that if you tried really hard, you could feel the world's emotions coming through with the sunlight in her open bedroom window. Usually if you stretched your fingertips out far enough, you could trap these emotions in your palm and hold onto them really tightly. If you held onto them as tightly as you possibly could, you might have found the happiness and contentment that you were searching for. Quinn would lie on her bedroom floor, her headphones in her ears listening to Michael Jackson and sometimes reading The Perks of being a Wallflower and she had never been more faithful in the world's emotions than ever before. As she got older she thought that maybe happiness, love and hope can be seen in every molecule that exists, if we just look hard enough. If she really wanted to, she could believe that maybe this was the universe's way of telling us, that these emotions really do exist, and they're shown in the magic of a beating heart, the inhaling of oxygen and the life inside you. Sometimes these feelings don't last that long, sometimes they get replaced with feelings that you don't like or you don't want, but at least you know that those good feelings are always there. Whenever you need them, you just have to search for them, even if it takes a while for you to find them; at least you know they still exist.

Losing at regionals had left her squad in a state of disarray. This was the first nationals The Cheerio's had not been included in for seven years. Needless to say Coach Sylvester had gone into depression mode, practices had been called off and they'd been asked not to wear the uniform because it made her feel too ashamed.

Quinn didn't really care about anything, other than the fact Santana had been given the all clear by the doctors, and Amber had gotten what was coming to her.

"I look like an idiot," Santana sighed, and she fell back into her locker with a thud.

"Baby, Amber got suspended for what she did, she can't get you," Brittany said leaning into her and taking her hands, she kissed each of them.

Quinn tilted her head to look at Santana, "Britts right San, she did this, who cares if you have to wear that bandage for a while, you'll be fixed in no time,"

Santana huffed, still not convinced and clearly self-conscious about the way she looked. Suddenly Rachel appeared beside them, and Quinn frowned at the bright pink bandage wrapped around her own head.

"Rach?" she said frowning.

Rachel smiled, "Well I just figured if I wore a fluro pink bandage, it might take the attention away from Santana, pink is more noticeable than white,"

Santana immediately reached out and hugged her.

"Q," she said, "Don't ever let this little thing go,"

Quinn grinned, grabbing Rachel, "You're amazing" she murmured.

"It's kind of like a headband," she whispered and Quinn laughed.

Thank god the day had wound down and all they had left was Glee Club, she was so sick of all the taunts from the football players about losing their regionals, because they had won theirs.

"Nationals is next week guys," Mr Schuester said, handing out the sheet music, "And I've decided that we're doing original songs!"

Quinn looked up immediately, "Original songs?"

"Yes!" he beamed, "It'll set us apart from the rest of them, I think!"

"What are we meant to sing about?" Puck asked.

"How about we do a rendition of girls are better football players?" Mercedes chimed.

"How about we won our game?" Finn replied.

Quinn rounded on him angrily, "Yeah well why don't you try getting hit in the head with a beam?"

Finn glared at her, "I believe Santana took that fall Quinn, you can't take hits can you?"

Rachel turned from where she had been scribbling notes, "Finn, if you want to leave Glee Club, then just go. I am so sick of the comments, I'm with Quinn, and you either deal with that, or you leave, because I don't want you here if you are going to say nasty things to her, it hurts me too much,"

Quinn melted, she wanted to just kiss her.

It shut him up though, because he folded his arms and leant against the back wall, tilting the chair so he could lean backwards.

"Fine," he muttered, "How do we write songs?"

"With passion!" Mr Schuester replied and he drew a question mark on the board.

"What makes you passionate?"

"Santana's sweet lady kisses!" Brittany called.

"Tots!" Mercedes yelled.

"Manbags!" Kurt quipped, "Big enough for Lord Tubbington's transportation," he added and Brittany beamed.

"I still have that damns cat's hair on my uniform!" Puck whined.

"Puck, that's because after we found him again, you decided you wanted to spend fifteen minutes cuddling him," Tina reminded.

Puck grinned, "He's very huggable,"

Brittany nodded in agreement.

"Guys!" Mr Schuester interrupted, "You're losing focus!"

"Mr Schue," Artie reasoned, "I don't think any of us have actually sat down and written our own songs before.

"Artz is right," Santana agreed, "We don't know how to do it,"

"Here's the first step," Mr Schuester responded, "You write down the things that make you feel and the things that inspire you,"

They seemed to stare back at him with puzzled expressions.

"Okay guys, here's the deal, over the next few days, whatever inspires you, I want you to write it down, and then next lesson we're going to start formulating songs,"

"Mr Schue," Mercedes asked, "Do you think we have a chance at winning?"

He grinned at her, "Of course I do,"

. . .

Quinn pulled on Rachel's bottom lip with her teeth, and then shifted to kiss her harder.

"Quinn," she whispered.

"Shhhh" she murmured, "Talking equals not kissing,"

"But I have something to tell you,"

Quinn stopped toying her tongue with Rachel's, and lifted her head slightly, "It better be important,"

"My Dads said I could go to Greece with you,"

Quinn's stomach flipped, "As in officially?"

"Daddy organised his flyer points yesterday and Dad got me a great big Liza Minnelli size hat to go sun bathing,"

Quinn snorted attacking her lips again, "Don't ever say sun bathing again," she teased.

"This means you'll have to tell your parents,"

Quinn stilled, "Rachel, I thought you said you would let me do that in my own time?"

Rachel ran her hands through Quinn's hair, "Just a suggestion," she whispered, and she allowed Quinn to continue to kiss her.

"Fives,"

"What?"

"I like when I'm underneath you, you're like my own personal blanket,"

Quinn melted.

"Smalls, you have to stop saying these things, or I will never be able to pry my lips away from you,"

Rachel grinned, kissing her gently, "Good,"

Once upon a time, there was a little boy, who gave the girl he loved twelve roses. Each was burning red, beautiful, all completely blossomed and full.

"There are eleven real ones" he said as he kissed her forehead.

"And the last?" she asked.

"Is not," he replied.

"Why so?" And she frowned.

"Because," he said simply, "I will love you until the last one wilters,"

Maybe that's what love is supposed be, something that can never die, something that stays full and in bloom for eternity.

"I love the way you look at me Quinn,"

Quinn levelled herself, just so she was hovering above her again, "How do I look at you?"

"Like you love me,"

"Because I do love you," she smirked.

"Yes but no one has ever looked at me the way you do,"

Quinn kissed her nose, "and no one ever will,"

The best thing about Rachel's bed was that when Quinn was between her, they could sink into the pillows, like they were in the ocean or floating on clouds.

It was a slow rhythm, a game between lips, teeth and tongues, with hands that were now allowed to wander, and lips that dared each other to mark places that had never been marked before. Sometimes the tension was too much, sometimes Quinn just wanted to rip all Rachel's clothes off, and other times the moments were too fragile; she knew if she made any sudden movements, the moment could be over.

Gently, Quinn trailed kisses down Rachel's neck, she moved past her collarbone, gripping Rachel's t-shirt and sliding it up her torso. She pressed her lips to Rachel's stomach, circling the outer ring of her belly button with her tongue, like you would if you were following the rings around Saturn.

She found her scar, pressed her lips to it, kissed it as though she was removing any of the pain it may have caused Rachel in the past. She didn't want to think anymore, and granted there weren't really any thoughts in her brain right now, other than how good Rachel's skin felt, how good she tasted, she always smelt like butter and autumn and everything that just made Quinn's heart rate increase.

Quinn curled her finger under the elastic of Rachel's pants, smirking at the small but adorable noise uttered from Rachel's mouth above her.

She pulled on the top of Rachel's pants, sliding them further so she could move her lips over Rachel's skin. Her body was already covered in Goosebumps. Whatever voice had always told her not to go lower was gone, as Quinn continued to move Rachel's pants down her legs. There was underwear, that Quinn wanted gone, but she would have to work out that part later, because so far she had removed Rachel's pants perfectly, and now she just wanted to steal kisses from her lips before she went back to whatever was going to happen.

Quinn loved the way her mouth fit with Rachel's, she loved the way every time she turned, Rachel would turn too, and it meant they could just end up kissing for hours.

She could kiss her for always.

Quinn's hands were on an expedition of their own, they'd already somehow managed to clasp Rachel's bra, which was now loose and coming away from her body and slowly they'd crawled down Rachel's torso, asked permission from the elastic of her underwear for entry and were now playing between the folds, like they had done so their whole life.

Rachel clearly did not seem to object.

Objection though, was something fate cruelly had in mind, as her door was opened, there was a shout and the laundry that Hiram had been carrying was suddenly flung in their air as he clumsily stumbled back out from the room. He clipped his elbow on the doorframe in the process and yelled again in annoyance.

Quinn had already leapt from Rachel, like she was now some grenade Quinn had been stupidly playing with.

"Oh my god," Quinn stammered, grabbing her jacket and throwing it over her, even though her clothes hadn't been removed, maybe an extra jacket would just make up for things.

"Rachel Berry!" Hiram said from outside the door, "This is not the playboy mansion,"

Rachel was clearly annoyed. She hurriedly scrambled to pull her pants back over her legs, and then attempted to do her bra back up.

"Baby, you're so good at undoing that now," she complimented.

Quinn groaned, "Smalls!"

"Rachel you better be dressed!" Hiram yelled again, "Leroy where's the holy water?"

"Dad!" Rachel moaned, "I'm seventeen!"

"You should be thirty!" he huffed.

"I should have a lock!" she responded, kicking up off the bed.

Quinn literally wanted to die of embarrassment. Again.

Santana winced as the curtains came tumbling down, in a mix of purple and metal rods.

"Usted molesto pedazode mierda!" she groaned, stepping down from the stool.

"Baby, your mum is going to kill you," Brittany replied, "But you're still meant to be on bed rest,"

"Bed rest if for people who didn't just have chocolate fight in their kitchen and stained their mother's really expensive curtains," she responded.

Brittany looked at them, "But San, you can still see the stains?"

Santana huffed again, "That's not the point,"

Quinn looked up from where she had been wiping the rest of the chocolate from the bench, "San, I just wanted to make you a cake, it's not my fault your girlfriend thinks it's funny to throw icing,"

Brittany grinned, "But it was fun,"

Santana smirked, "It was,"

This was the most amount of time they had spent just the three of them in ages. Just together, laughing at things they always had, laughing at each other, saying stupid things, being young, without anything in the way. This was the time when Quinn needed some advice from the best friends she'd had all her life.

Quinn cleared her throat, "Santana, how do you have sex with a girl?"

Brittany started choking on her ice tea, and Santana literally just dropped the curtain rod again.

They both stared at her.

"Come again?" Santana asked.

"Yes please," Brittany replied, looking at her.

"No baby, not you," Santana smirked, "Q, can you repeat your question?"

"I want to make love to Rachel, but I don't know how to, what's sex like between girls?"

Santana's face broke out into this huge grin and instantly Quinn flushed, "goddamit I knew I should have just used Google!"

"Google is helpful," Brittany quipped.

"Yeah," Santana responded sarcastically, "Then why did you insist you got your knowledge from watching Cruel Intentions?"

"Oh Sarah Michelle Gellar," Brittany murmured, her eyes glazing over.

"Quinn," Santana replied, ignoring her, "What's this about? Are you going to have sex with Rachel?"

"I don't know," she replied running her hands through her hair, "Rachel wants to, but I don't know if I can, like I don't know what to do,"

"Pretty much the same thing you're already doing without clothes," Santana shrugged.

"Having no clothes, is so much more fun," Brittany grinned.

Quinn rolled her eyes, "If either of care to realise, Rachel and I haven't really done anything, we always get caught,"

"So make sure you don't get caught?" Santana said, as though it was the simplest thing in the world.

Quinn's face seemed to say it all.

"Oh Q," Santana laughed, hopping over to her and dragging her into an embrace, "Just don't think about it, what happens, will just happen,"

"Yes but didn't you and Britt plan?"

Brittany snorted, "God no,"

Santana nodded, "We were at a drive in movie, and it was this really old black and white film, and the moonlight and Brittany…" she trailed off, "God I'd never wanted you more,"

Quinn now realised she was staring at Brittany, still hugging Quinn, but none the less staring at Brittany.

"You did it in public!"

Santana made a face, "It wasn't like that," she protested, "It just happened,"

Brittany hopped off the chair to come and stand on the other side of Quinn, "You worry too much Q," she said softly.

"Rachel loves you, just know that, and go with it,"

Quinn nodded, maybe she should go buy that lock herself.