A/N: Hiya! Okay so plot wise this may not do much but set up other chapters, but whatever. I penned a lot of this out on notebook paper before typing it and somehow that made my writing a little different (at least in my opinion) ? I don't know but it was refreshing and if you're ever struggling to write, I suggest it. Enough boring authors note, have fun :)

As always, thanks for the new reviews/alerts/favorites! The more of you that show up, the more concerned I get!


On Saturday night, after a pleasant shopping trip with her mother, Brittany went up into her room and practically collapsed on the bed. Walking around all day had made her legs incredibly tired; and that was saying a lot coming from her. They practically sprinted from store to store, even after she assured her mom they wouldn't run away before she got there. She wouldn't have any of it and demanded they move faster.

Brittany untangled her hair from its band and stretched across the sheets, letting the hem of her shirt rise up along with her arms. Santana had invited her over that night and she felt like a nap would be useful in staying up to hang out with her longer. And to do…other things.

Interrupting that wonderful thought, Brittany felt her phone buzz in the pocket of her jeans. She almost felt like ignoring it and dozing off, but it could have been anyone. Her tired limbs made the process of extracting it a hundred times more complicated than it should have been, but eventually she managed the task.

(2:39 PM) Kurt: Hey.

Her cell phone-sense kicked in and she could tell there was something off with Kurt. She hadn't talked to him since the hospital and while she wished it could have been under different circumstances, she couldn't help but be a little excited he messaged her.

(2:40 PM): hey. whats wrong?

(2:41 PM) Kurt: Your ability to know that something is wrong from a simple text message never ceases to amaze me.

She laughed, but then realized he probably wasn't.

(2:43 PM): you didn't answer my question

(2:44 PM) Kurt: Remember how you told me about Santana and you made me swear to keep it a secret years ago. Well you can't tell anyone, including Blaine.

That didn't sound good.

(2:45 PM): Explain :(

(2:46 PM) Kurt: (1/2) I got a letter today from NYADA and they basically told me that due to qualifications, I wouldn't be able to attend in the fall. So I didn't get into school there. And I'm kind of freaking out because I didn't make back up plans. I don't know what to do and the more I think about it,

(2:47 PM) Kurt: (2/2) the more I panic because what am I supposed to tell Blaine? That I'm not going to New York? And what about Rachel? What if she gets in? She'll feel horrible.

She could tell how scared he was. And honestly what could she say back? He had only applied to one school, expecting to get in alongside Rachel. Brittany figured he would make it, no questions asked. Her experience dealing with grades and not knowing if she was getting into college gave her an undeniable sense of perspective. Although she could relate, Kurt probably wouldn't take solace in that fact.

(2:50 PM): Kurt, it'll be okay. You still have a few months to figure something out. You should tell blaine though, he should know, I think

(2:51 PM) Kurt: What do I tell him? That he has to leave without me? I can't go to NY b/c I'm a loser who can't make it?

(2:52 PM): don't do that. you're not a loser, you just weren't what they looked for. you're a wonderful singer and dancer, they just didn't get to see it because they have to choose from a lot of people. It doesn't make you any less good.

(2:53 PM) Kurt: My application didn't "stand out" is what the letter said. I just really don't know what to do Britt. I told my Dad and he told me he'd support me but what does that mean. Support me in what?

Brittany tried to think of what Kurt could do with his future. What had he been good at? He did well in performances, but didn't show the same tenacity and passion Rachel or even Blaine showed for it. Not to say that he wasn't good enough, but he didn't seem to want it as much. She couldn't remember a time when he had shown any interest in being famous for singing or dancing. What could he be good at then?

The shopping bags stood in the corner of the room staring, glaringly obvious of the answer she would come to. Brittany ran almost every one of her outfits through Kurt at one point or another; he made comments and criticisms on almost everyone's clothes without being prompted. He had maintained a perfect style for himself and could do the same for anyone else if need be, if they had asked him. It was one of the reasons Brittany liked him, and liked shopping with him, because he knew what she'd pick before she decided herself. Maybe his innate talents were not for performing, maybe they were for fashion.

(2:54 PM): have you ever considered like helping people pick out clothes for a living? what's that called?

(2:55 PM) Kurt: A fashion consultant?

(2:55 PM): Yeah, I guess. Couldn't you do that

(2:56 PM) Kurt: And give up on everything else? I don't even know how I would start to do that.

(2:57 PM): i don't know either. maybe ms. pillsbury could help you or something?

It took him a little while to respond and she hoped he had been considering it.

(3:08 PM) Kurt: …do you think I'd be any good?

(3:08 PM): I think you'd be wonderful at that :) don't give up hope yet. i'll help you figure something out.

Santana, Quinn, and even Rachel had rallied around her when she couldn't raise her grades. Her relationship with Kurt had been distant lately, but that didn't change how important he was to her. If he needed help, she would gladly give it.

(3:09 PM) Kurt: Well I certainly do know how to select an appropriate blazer.

(3:10 PM) Kurt: You're an amazing friend, you know that?

She blushed into her hand.

(3:10 PM): you've always been a good friend to me, so I try to be back :)

(3:11 PM) Kurt: Thanks, Brittany.

(3:11 PM): if you need to talk I'm always here. okay? whenever?

Brittany stood up and started to get ready for Santana's. She felt like her friendly duties had been performed to the best of her abilities and he seemed to feel at least a little better about it. Helping him made her feel wonderful, happy to return the favor for how he had helped her over the years.

It was then she decided to make more time for Kurt in her life. He was someone she wanted to keep around, permanently. Well, not physically, because he had to figure stuff out and that probably meant New York. But if she could make him important in her life again, their friendship would work long distance. She smiled, hoping they could work on that.

(3:15 PM) Kurt: I'll keep you updated. Thanks again. I don't know about telling Blaine yet, so do you think you could help me in the meantime?

(3:16 PM): we can go to ms. Pillsbury together, okay? it'll be fun to find something new .

(3:17 PM) Kurt: Monday then?

(3:18 PM): Monday! :)

(3:19 PM) Kurt: I'll see you then! :D

She shoved her phone in her pocket and left her bedroom, satisfied she had done something good.


Brittany and Santana endured thunderous knocks on Santana's bedroom door. Brittany woke up pretty easily, rolling over and out of Santana's grasp. That elicited a mournful grunt, Santana not wanting to be abandoned so early in the morning. Brittany couldn't help but laugh and give her a few kisses, some to her lips and some to her cheeks, before she got up and walked across the floor to answer the door.

Brittany almost didn't believe her eyes when she opened it and found her mom on the other side, standing next to Santana's mom. They were grinning from ear to ear and she double checked to make sure she had clothes on, not understanding why they were amused.

Maria peeked through the door and saw Santana still rolling about in bed, refusing to let being awake happen without a fight. She laughed and yelled past Brittany, "Get up mija!"

Brittany rubbed her eyes. "What's going on?" She knew they couldn't be in trouble because Maria laughed.

"We have to talk," Anna said. "About visiting schools."

"As soon as she's coherent, meet us downstairs," Maria told Brittany, smiling.

They both turned and walked away, Anna departing with a last message of, "Make sure you brush your teeth!"

Brittany watched them go, still very much confused. Maybe they were an elaborate dream. She pinched herself but didn't wake up.

She went back to the bed and jumped down next to where Santana still fussed with the blankets, dragging them up and over her head.

"S. Get up. Our moms want to talk to us."'

Santana groaned. "Why is your mom even here?"

"I don't know. C'mon get up." She shook Santana's shoulder, determined to wake her up. "If you get up and we get the conversation over with, we can come back up to bed."

Santana snorted into the pillow. "That's what they want you to think. It's a trick."

Brittany rolled her eyes and laughed, shoving Santana again. "I'm going to brush my teeth and if you aren't up I'm dumping water on you."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I'm not kidding, Santana."

Santana shoved her away by the arm. "Go."

Brittany scoffed, standing up and going to the bathroom. She found her spare toothbrush in the medicine cabinet and set to brushing her teeth. Threatening Santana didn't seem like a good idea, because she knew there had to be a follow through; she wasn't going to be up when she got back. She didn't really want to splash water on her, but their moms were waiting.

Under the sink, she found the cap to a bottle of mouthwash and filled it with the coldest water the bathroom sink would produce. She wasn't even completely out of the bathroom before she saw Santana, still in bed, no longer writhing around, but completely still.

With a smirk, Brittany crossed the room holding her cup of water, determined to prove that she would go through with it. If Santana wouldn't get up willingly, she would after an involuntary bath.

"Are you getting up," Brittany asked one last time, standing at the edge of the bed.

There wasn't an answer. Without any other hesitance, Brittany raised the cup over Santana's head, ready to pour it out.

Before she started tipping it sideways, Santana lunged for her middle, dragging her onto the bed. She squeaked in surprise, laughing as the water fell over the both of them in the struggle. She giggled as Santana rolled her over and pinned her down, hands holding her wrists to the bed.

Looking up, the water had splashed Santana's hair enough to plaster it against her forehead. Brittany chuckled but felt the water seeping through her tanktop, sticking it to her stomach.

"That wasn't very smart," Santana joked above her. Her hair was in messy curls, eyes glazed over in tiredness.

"I'm not the brightest, or so I've been told," Brittany whispered back. She fought for a second against the hands holding her down, but couldn't break free.

"Don't threaten me."

"Don't ignore me."

Santana laughed. "Clearly, I didn't. I'm awake."

"But we're both wet."

Santana leaned down and kissed her. "Some more than others."

Brittany's cheeks flushed and she shoved at Santana again. "C'mon. I want to go back to bed."

Santana let her go and fell sideways into the ruffled covers. "Then let's just stay here."

Brittany got up out of bed and pulled the covers away, leaving Santana on the bare sheet. "It's about college. It's important."

Santana groaned and slid to the edge of the bed, tentatively pressing her feet to the floor. "It could wait."

Brittany shook her head and ran a hand through her tussled hair. "You're five."

Leaning into her hand, Santana groaned again. "Mhm."

She abruptly dropped her hand, turning away to leave the room. "Let's go."

"Fine."

Santana's footsteps followed behind her as she descended the stairs, finding their way into the living room where Maria and Anna were having coffee, both peering down onto the screen of a laptop. Brittany moved onto the opposite couch from them and dropped into a chair. Santana followed and collapsed onto the floor in front of her legs, leaning back into them.

Anna surveyed their appearance and laughed. "Did someone not want to get up this morning?"

Brittany nudged Santana's shoulder with her knee and earned a groan in response.

"We've never tried water," Maria mused. "Next time, maybe."

Santana slapped Brittany's foot lightly. "Thanks," she murmured.

"You're welcome."

Anna closed the lid of the laptop and took a drink from her coffee. "We'll make this quick so you can do whatever you need to do today."

"Sleep," they echoed each other.

Their moms laughed, turned to each other, Brittany guessed deciding who would go first.

Her mom obviously got first dibs.

"Your Easter vacation starts on a Thursday and we thought since there are no other vacations this school year, we could make the trip to Los Angeles then. Brittany, you need to audition and I've already set up a meeting with a counselor who wanted to talk about your academics."

"And Santana, you need to visit campus, just to get a feel for it."

Santana yawned and scratched her eye. "But I don't even know if I got in there."

Maria shrugged. "It doesn't matter. You still have to visit. That might even help if you meet admissions counselors who would have a face to put to the name."

Brittany asked, "So when are we going?"

"We'll leave Friday morning, April sixth I think, see the schools Saturday, and then explore the city a little on Sunday. Monday morning, we have an early flight back, so you'll have to miss school that day." Anna double checked the information on a notepad sitting next to the computer.

"Score," Santana said.

"I'm sure you'll be able to make your last few classes," Maria said, a glint in her eye.

"Or not," Santana mumbled.

"So that's it," Brittany asked.

Anna and Maria nodded, looking at each other to check. Brittany could tell there were as in sync as possible, thoughts and actions both. The idea of them having been a couple didn't seem so farfetched when she started to pay attention to them.

That prompted her next question.

"Are we all staying together?"

Santana turned back to her with a questioning expression on her face. She just shrugged her shoulders as a response.

"Well," Anna started.

"Why would we stay separate," Maria cut in.

"I just mean we're going to have to sleep in the same room. And that'll be, what, like two double beds? I know Santana is gonna want to sleep in bed with me, so doesn't that put the two of you in the same bed?"

Realization seemed to dawn on everyone at once, Maria and Anna especially who appeared to have not even registered that possibility.

"U-Um," Anna stuttered.

Brittany could practically hear Santana smirking in front of her.

"We're adults, girls. It doesn't make a difference."

Santana twisted back to her. "If you say so," she muttered under her breath. Brittany joined in on smirking.

"Enough," her mom demanded. "Grow up a little, will ya?"

They both nodded in silence, biting back smiles on each of their faces.

"Can we go now?"

Anna covered her face and Maria sighed at her daughter. "Fine. We'll talk more when it gets closer."

Brittany and Santana stood up and left the living room. On their way out, Brittany couldn't help but ask, "We can't be related, right?"

She heard a gasp and groan mix in with Santana's laughter.


Santana didn't happily receive the school abuzz with rumored deaths and pile-up car accidents on Monday. And after Quinn hadn't shown up Tuesday through Friday either, the inaccurate information continued to spew from one classroom to the next. If her own memories of that day weren't clear and descriptive enough, she could breach into the conversation one desk over and relive it with new vigor.

'The car swerved into a ditch where it totally did, like, five flips! I saw it! I was there!'

'I heard she's in a coma. They're deciding whether or not life support is worth the trouble. I mean, it is Quinn Fabray.'

While that girl had endured a rigid slap to the face in a back hallway after gym class, Santana had given up on trying to dispel the gossip. Quinn survived, the glee club knew, and Figgins hadn't organized any lame memorial service; she could live with the bullshit going on around her.

On Friday, after a painful glee rehearsal, which consisted of Brittany, Rachel, and her not giving a shit about what was being decided or practiced, the three of them rushed to their cars.

Quinn finally came from the hospital and they wanted to be there on her first day out.

Santana wasn't surprised to see Rachel beat them out of the parking lot, but she also might've been stepping on the brake to let that happen. Brittany didn't seem to care or notice really.

"I don't think she should be speeding," Brittany observed, watching Rachel turn a corner sharply ahead of them.

"She has to get to her woman," Santana joked. She reached across the divide between them and put her hand on Brittany's exposed thigh, courtesy of WMHS cheerleading uniforms, her favorite perk of the uniform.

Brittany glanced down and she caught her smile glowing from the corner of one eye. She looked over and raised an eyebrow to Brittany's behavior.

"What," she asked.

Santana smiled, chewing on a piece of gum she had started in glee—there wasn't any singing going on anyway for her to spit it out. "Why are you smiling?"

"Because."

Santana laughed and said, "Vague, much?"

"Because I missed you," she shrugged and added, "like this."

Santana smiled and ran her hand back and forth comfortingly. "Me too."

The drive to Quinn's was short, made all the faster by trying to stay in viewing distance of Rachel's car, zooming around corners and aggressively cutting people off. Santana had half a mind to slap her when they arrived at Quinn's house if she needed a reminder of why Quinn had been in the hospital.

Brittany flicked her hair band out and shuffled the hair down onto her shoulders when the car stopped along the curb outside Quinn's house. "Hasn't she been at the hospital, like, every day?"

"Mhm," Santana answered, checking her makeup in the mirror. She grabbed lip gloss from a cup holder and ran it along her lips for a touch up.

She could see Rachel already knocking on the door through the passenger window. Brittany followed her line of vision just as the door opened and Judy skeptically welcomed her inside. They both laughed at the scene and turned to each other.

Brittany spoke first and asked, "Do you think Judy knows?"

"How could she not," Santana joked. Rachel had the subtly of an elephant when it came to her persistence. She could've waved a flag around declaring her love for Quinn and been more subtle. Santana knew from experience that Quinn's mom wasn't a stupid woman; she had been giving them knowing glances since they showed up in middle school. While that had never transpired in some sort of altercation, considering Mr. Fabray's aversion to the idea, it might have only been because it was them and not Quinn.

Admittedly, Santana was curious of how that reaction would pan out. Hopefully interesting, in the chance that she'd be okay with it. She knew she'd be more surprised if Judy accepted it rather than rebuked it.

"You ready?"

Santana came out of her thoughts and nodded, opening the door and getting out. Brittany waited in the grass for her and they walked up the looming path to the Fabray's—which felt not-so-loomy anymore—hand in hand. Santana knocked on the door, excited to see her friend.

As the door opened, Judy smiled at the two of them. "Hello, girls."

"Hey Mrs. Fabray," Brittany said, grinning from ear to ear. Their relationship had always been tentative at best; Quinn had confided in Santana once that her mom was confused about Brittany's 'ditziness' and whether it was an act for people to find her more likeable. Santana hadn't been all that fond of Quinn's mom after that. And after the whole, kicking Quinn out thing.

"Hey," Santana greeted informally. "Is she in her room?"

"Yes she is. Rachel showed up just a few minutes ago." Judy glanced behind her and then back to them. "I'm glad to see her coming around again. It was a real shame they stopped spending time together last year. Quinnie seemed much happier then."

"Mhm," Santana hummed, side-eyeing Brittany. 'If only you knew why,' she thought with a visible smirk to match.

"Oh, well. Go on in." She ushered them to follow her down the hallway and trotted towards the kitchen when they reached the doorway.

"Thanks!" Brittany pushed the door open and was met with the sight of Rachel propping a pillow up under Quinn's legs, shifting it back and forth trying to make her comfortable.

Quinn appeared conflicted between agitation and adoration at the way the girl tried to dote on her, which was wholly amusing to Brittany and Santana both. When she looked up at their entrance, her whole body relaxed.

"Guys," she greeted them. "Come in."

Santana could hear the plea laced in the beckoning. "How're you feeling, Q?"

Rachel sat with her knees into the comforter at the bottom of the bed near Quinn's legs and watched her and Brittany find spots on either side of the room: Santana took the chair from Quinn's desk and Brittany sidled up on the bed next to Rachel.

"I'm fine." Quinn's smile didn't seem false as she reached over and nabbed a bottle of water from her side table. She struggled with the arm she still had in a sling and Rachel took over, claiming the bottle and removing the cap for her. "I'll just have to start drinking from glasses only," she joked, settling the growing tension in the room.

"Did they give you pills that make you loopy," Brittany asked, leaning backwards on her forearms firmly planted on the bed.

Quinn nodded. "I haven't taken any though. I knew you'd all want to come over and see me today. Didn't think drooling and passing out were appropriate ways to entertain guests."

They all snickered and Santana said, "That would be highly entertaining."

"I'm sure," Quinn answered with a mischievous grin.

Aside from the obvious injuries Quinn had, they were getting along in the usual way. Brittany joked with Quinn about having a sponge bath from the orderlies, Rachel stared longingly at Quinn in obvious ways that only Santana, in her normal role of plainly observing, seemed to pick up on. They all had gone back to normal; just the way she liked it.

"Do you know when you're coming back to school," Rachel asked. Brittany had just crossed back from the other side of the room with Sharpies to mark on Quinn's casts.

"Oh!" Brittany dropped the markers and abruptly left the room. They all watched her go with confused looks, but eventually shrugged it off waiting for Quinn's response.

Quinn shrugged. "They said I could go back Monday if I felt up to it. The hospital even gave me a wheelchair on-loan so I could make it around to classes."

"Do you," Rachel prodded. "I mean, feel up to it?"

The bed shifted as Quinn tried her hardest to move with one hand propelled into the bed, dragging her closer to the end table where an orange prescription bottle sat.

"Physically, I'd say yes," she answered, offering the bottle for one of them to open it. Rachel grabbed it first and opened the top, checked the label, and then removed one pill that she handed back to Quinn. Quinn swallowed the pill with a gulp of water and then repositioned herself against the headboard, resting the flat of her hand against her ribs. "But I don't know if I'm ready for everyone to see me and talk to me."

Rachel laughed in disbelief. "You can't stay held up in your room for five weeks while your body heals, Quinn. You can't miss that much school."

Santana recognized the gritting of teeth Quinn tried to subtly disguise. "I'm coming back. Just not yet, Rach."

Rachel made a "humph" sound and crossed her arms, glancing at the ceiling. Quinn looked to Santana for support but earned a reproaching shake of her head. There wasn't anything that would make her agree with that; Quinn needed to be back at school for her dignity to return, if that's what she had actually been worried about. Hiding away would only let her worry herself into imagining the whole school thought she was worthless, not worth remembering. Santana wouldn't agree to that.

That seemed to infuriate their friend.

"It's my choice," she accused them, hand flinging up at the side. Rachel immediately tended to her, trying to calm her down while Santana only shook her head again.

"I brought your homework!" Brittany walked in the room carrying a backpack over her shoulder and two textbooks in her hands. "I totally had to break into your locker to get these, but the janitor said I could just buy you a new lock." She dropped everything before noticing the disheveled state of the room. "What'd I miss?"

No one said anything and she hopped back into her spot on the bed. "Well?"

Santana held back a smirk and scooted her chair over to draw on Quinn's cast. Brittany glanced up at her worriedly and she subtly shook her head to let her know it didn't matter.

Rachel crossed her arms and stared at the wall, brooding. "I just would like you to come back to school, sooner rather than later. For your own good."

Brittany sat upright and looked at Quinn. "Are you not coming back to school?"

"I don't know yet." She smiled sympathetically and then turned to Rachel with a restrained scowl. "While I appreciate that, Rachel, I still think I know what's best for me. I'll decide on Monday after I rest for the weekend."

"Alright, as fun as this is, Britts and I just wanted to see how you were doing. We have a date." Santana glanced at Brittany whose smile multiplied. She'd been excitedly torturing Santana all day about wanting to go out that night until she finally agreed.

Rachel turned to them with a renewed enthusiasm. "Oh? Where are you going?"

Santana shrugged. "Not sure yet. I thought we'd just find something."

"That could take forever."

Brittany interjected, "That's why it's fun."

Santana noticed Quinn smiling at them, perhaps genuinely happy to be home with her friends. Under different circumstances, she might have opted to stay.

Instead, she hopped up and slapped her palms to her hips. "You ready, B?"

Brittany had just been finishing the last stripe on her cat drawing, capping the marker and flinging it carelessly to the bed. "Yup."

"I better see you at school, Q," Santana threatened from the doorway, Brittany's arm linked through hers, still mildly confused.

"Just leave, Santana," Quinn answered exasperatedly.

Brittany waved goodbye and Santana tipped her head to Rachel. "Later midget."

"Goodbye, Santana," she heard faintly as she shut the door.


After asking the two of them what they wanted for dinner, Judy left for the grocery store. She came back with a car full of food, various candies, and six or seven movies from RedBox. Quinn and Rachel ate in her room, baked penne with roasted vegetables, entertaining small conversations about how school and glee club had been for Rachel the previous week and Quinn's first few physical therapy appointments working on her shoulder. Each offered equally painful stories, Quinn admitting to crying behind a locked bathroom door and Rachel retelling how she had encountered the same jock who slushied Santana with an icy beverage of her own. Quinn had to grit her teeth at that, as clenching her fist proved a little too obvious, and, well, painful.

As the night drug on, Quinn started to notice that Rachel was a little more reserved than usual. Aside from when she needed to readjust her pillows or sit up to take a drink, Rachel wouldn't touch her. Eye contact lasted a little less than normal; she found the walls and bedding more compelling than Quinn's attention while she told stories. She didn't understand if it was a fear of hurting her, or plain fear of being near her.

Halfway into Contagion, after subtly watching her grimace and fidget for most of the film, Quinn couldn't take it anymore. Especially since she had moved to the white computer chair in favor of the bed, quoting "comfort" as her excuse for leaving it. 'Pretty sure a bed is more comfortable than a chair.'

"You can sit next to me, you know," she said, keeping her eyes on the television. "I'm not like, terminal."

She heard Rachel clear her throat, uncomfortably. "I know. Like I said, I am more comfortable over here."

"Because I'm over here," Quinn asked a little hurt.

Rachel's head darted in her direction. "No, of course not. I don't want to make you move to accommodate me. You should be relaxed."

Quinn eyed the wide open spot next to her good arm, and looked unbelievingly at Rachel. There had to be more to it. Wasn't telling Rachel how she felt supposed to make them better? Why wouldn't she just sit by her?

"I think I'd be more relaxed if you were next to me," she retorted.

Rachel seemed to deliberate it, her teeth running tracks over her lip in thought. She must have settled on a decision, because not a minute later was she crossing the room to sit next to her. Awkwardly, Rachel chose the side of the bed with Quinn's sling-ed arm.

She slid a leg up onto the bed and then realized she wouldn't be able to fit the rest of the way. A weird second passed where she stayed in a regret-filled limbo of suspension on the bed. It was like she didn't know if she could get up and switch to the other side or had to remain in that position for the rest of the night. Quinn watched her in mild amusement.

"Rach, go to the other side."

"Why," she protested. "I'm quite comfortable now."

"Rachel."

An audible sigh later, and a grumble of, "You're making me miss the movie," Rachel found her way over to the other side of the bed and climbed up into the empty spot next to her. The rich scent of Rachel invaded her senses as she settled, sharing one of the larger pillows between them, their heads lined up next to each other against the wall. Quinn felt at ease, actually relaxed.

"Happy?"

"Very," she answered. "Comfortable?"

Rachel turned and smiled at her. "Very."

With Rachel at arm's length, well really in arm's length—they touched slightly at the elbows—Quinn let her mind wander. The movie interested her, but not enough to escape the nagging thoughts about what she and Rachel had become since leaving the hospital. Even at the hospital, they never exchanged more than a comforting hug when she'd had an off day. Stress couldn't be helping the healing process, but that's what Rachel brought about in her every day since the accident. Stress over what would transpire between them, or when it would occur.

Somewhere in her trance, Rachel had inched away; subtle enough to not disturb her, but obvious enough to notice. What had that been about? She bathed before any of them had come over this afternoon, as best she could given the garbage bags practically disguising her lower half. Her breath couldn't reek of that much garlic from dinner, they had both started gum afterwards. What could be keeping her away?

As much as she trusted herself, Quinn yielded to the idea that she might've been overreacting. Rachel might not have been avoiding her physically and her rattled mind had confused personal space for isolation. With that notion, she decided to test that theory. In a not-so-delicate way.

She rose her arm up in between them, stretching it towards the ceiling. It put a little edge of pain onto her ribs, but she managed it for long enough to let it feel good. Rachel eyed her nervously from beside her and she smiled.

"Stretching," Quinn explained, moving the arm about in its joint. Rachel nodded in understanding and turned back to the television across the room. That's when she went for the big money and rested her arm down around Rachel, hooking her fingers into the opposite side of the pillow, basically cradling the girl in her arm.

The reaction said more than her thoughts could disagree with.

Rachel tightened the muscles in her upper back, stiffening under the contact. She wrung her hands in her lap, legs twitching against the teal of Quinn's comforter. Visibly uncomfortable felt like an understatement.

"Okay," Quinn said suddenly, taking her arm back. "What's going on?"

Rachel turned to her almost quivering at the tone, lip worried between her teeth. "How do you mean?"

"Please cut the crap, it's giving me a headache. Why are you being weird around me?"

"I'm not being weird," Rachel asserted. Her hands went to smoothing the pleats of her skirt, adjusting it down over her knees. Quinn followed the motion until she snapped back into the conversation. "I'm not."

"You are," Quinn demanded, piqued. "Do we need to talk about something?"

"Like what?"

Quinn motioned between the two of them. "What this is, maybe."

"Quinn…"

"No, Rachel. I need to know, because it's kind of driving me crazy."

Rachel grabbed the hand she had been flinging back and forth, covering it with both of hers. "Please calm down. We can talk if you want to talk."

"I want to," she enthused.

"Well, what?"

Quinn halted, confused if Rachel was playing stupid or actually didn't understand.

When she didn't say anything, Rachel asked, "Do I need to say something first or?"

"Do you have anything to say?"

Rachel seemed to think about it. "Yes, actually."

"Go ahead, then."

Rachel took her time to look for the remote and pause the movie. Quinn figured anything she could have found to stall with, she would've used. But, being in her bedroom, there wasn't all that much to work with. The resident sigh in her chest preempted the conversation, making Quinn uneasy.

"I hope that you," Rachel turned to her, "don't think I expect anything of you. While you're in this condition."

"Expect anything? Like what?"

Rachel glanced away again. "Renewing our…relationship."

"Oh," Quinn answered. It hit her finally that Rachel wasn't comfortable for her sake and not her own.

"I understand that you may need time to forgive me."

"Forgive you?"

Rachel picked at a loose thread on the bedspread. "My dress fitting did cause your wreck after all. I mean if I hadn't yelled at you, you might not have left and gotten hurt."

Rachel still blamed herself. On the list of things she hadn't wanted as a result of her accident that ranked at about number one. The girl was quick to blame herself in every situation and while that aggravated her, it kind of moreover made her sad.

"I don't blame you, Rachel."

Rachel looked at her. "Why not?"

"It wasn't your fault. I went into the other lane, I wasn't looking. I don't blame anyone but myself." Quinn moved the hand Rachel still held between hers as a sign of assurance, flipping it over enough to rest her fingertips against Rachel's palm. "Besides, it already happened. I'm not wasting my time by thinking about it."

Rachel's mouth twisted into a smile, full and content. "Well, that's certainly good to hear."

Quinn reflected the smile. "I wouldn't blame you."

A faint blush appeared on Rachel's cheeks as she turned away. "D-do you have questions?"

Quinn skipped any formalities and asked, "What do you mean, expect a relationship?"

"I just mean we don't have to rush into anything yet."

Quinn watched the profile of her face as she talked and couldn't help but grin at the poise in which she spoke. Like she expected Quinn to be analyzing everything she said and a statuesque posture wouldn't give anything away. In fact, it did almost the exact opposite.

"Would it bother you if we did," Quinn asked sincerely.

"I-I, no why would it?"

Quinn pushed up against Rachel's hand, testing the pressure. "You just have an ex-fiancé to consider. I don't want to force you if you aren't ready."

"He and I have discussed it. We're on a steady path to being friends."

"Just friends?"

"Yes," Rachel argued.

Quinn nodded. "Rachel if you aren't ready, I understand."

"Quinn," Rachel turned to her again. That must have been exhausting turning back and forth. "I just don't want to jump into being together. I think for your healing and mine, we should take it slow."

"So," Quinn assessed, "we're just friends too."

"Have we ever really been just friends?" She laughed. "We're more than friends, I think."

Quinn smirked. "Friends with benefits?"

"Quinn!" Rachel scowled at her playfully and had to restrain a hand from smacking her. She flinched anyway.

"I'm kidding!"

"Ugh. No. Think of it more as friends with, um, potential."

Quinn liked the sound of that even more. "I have one more question before we start the movie back up then."

Frustrated, but still smiling, Rachel asked, "What?"

She tried to think of the best way to word it.

"As your friend-with-potential, is it still okay for me to have my arm around you? And maybe as my friend-with-potential you could lean in instead of away. Friends snuggle, right?"

Rachel laughed and leaned forward cueing her to wrap an arm around her. Quinn felt her body move closer, warmth spreading from every place where she squished tight enough to touch.

"You're going to mock that name aren't you?"

"Only a little," Quinn answered. "And seeing as my only good hand is occupied, you can press play on the remote."

"Lazy." Still, Rachel did what she had been asked, finding the remote in the covers.

"If lazy means I get to lay in bed with you all night, I'll take it."

Rachel pressed play and then turned to her. "Yeah, me too." She laid her head down against Quinn's shoulder, nuzzling her t-shirt.

Friends-with-potential sounded really good.


A town over, in Delphos, Brittany and Santana drove around until they found a restaurant they could both agree on. It turned into a sort of game: who could find the better restaurant. Eventually, Brittany found Fratello's Pizzeria, a small place they'd never visited before, almost dead center of the main district.

Not particular about her food intake, given Sue allowed the seniors a few more dietary liberties, Santana knew a greasy slice of pizza would satisfy all the right cravings. Brittany seemed pretty enthusiastic about it too. The way her mouth seemingly watered the second they stepped through the front doors and were greeted with the heavenly scent of fresh cooked pizzas and garlic based meals told her they made a smart choice.

"Want to sit anywhere special," Santana asked, helping Brittany out of her Cheerio's jacket.

"A booth," she responded, hopefully.

With an encouraging smile, Santana led her to the left side of the heavily decorated room and slid into a seat. She was surprised when Brittany followed her into the same seat, their thighs pressed tightly together. Santana ducked her head and blushed, allowing the comfort to overtake her anxiety and force it to the back of her mind.

"Can I sit here," Brittany asked with a bubbly grin, teeth widely on display.

"Of course." She placed her palm on Brittany's leg.

A teenage girl, maybe the same age or younger than them, came up to the table and beamed.

"Welcome to Fratello's, my name is Angie, what can I get you?" Her young age was more reflected in the high pitch of her voice; Santana thought she might have just been very tall.

Brittany glanced at Santana, drawing the waitress' attention. Her gaze shifted confusedly as she stared at Santana, a little wide-eyed. It wasn't all that subtle or hard to notice. Instead of causing a scene, Santana smiled at her.

"Yeah, can we just get one pepperoni? And," she turned to Brittany and asked, "what about an order of garlic knots?"

Brittany nodded and then turned back to their server. "Two cokes too." She snickered a little and Santana figured it was the repetition of the word 'two.' It made her smile.

"I'll put that order in and be right back with your drinks." She penned the order on her pad and departed them with a service smile. A little of her puzzled expression lingered while she walked away from them.

Brittany turned into her, overlapping one of each of their legs. Santana snuck an arm behind Brittany's waist and held her.

"How'd you know they had garlic knots?"

Santana pointed across the densely populated room to a table near the entrance. "Saw someone with them and they looked delicious."

Brittany laughed and leaned her head against Santana's arm. She loved when Brittany acted like that, completely at ease and adorably in love. It was a good look, a perfect look.

"I love how much you love food," Brittany teased.

"If I'm going to be putting something into my body that I have to work off later, it better be damn good," Santana explained a little too surely; from the smirk on Brittany's face anyway.

Their server reappeared with a basket of garlic knots and their drinks. Santana knew it was as close to breadsticks as she was going to get from another restaurant and dove in enthusiastically to claim the first one.

Brittany and weirdly Angie observed her moving the hunk of bread near her mouth. Only before she could take a bite, a sharp intake of air startled her into dropping the food.

Santana glanced up and saw Angie staring down at her in realization. That look scared her immeasurably; had they been recognized? Had she been recognized? Of course they had, because one night out with Brittany couldn't go right when they were still living in Ohio. The part that tipped her off wasn't the way Angie looked at her, but rather the way she observed how they were seated: Brittany intimately draped over her lap.

"Oh my god," Angie said softly. "You're…that girl, from the commercial."

Santana's color faded and Brittany dropped her attention from Angie to the table. She didn't know how to handle it and obviously Brittany didn't either.

"Um…" Santana couldn't decide between attitude and humility. Attack or hide.

Angie didn't give her a chance.

"Wow. You can't imagine what you did for some of us at school," she told them, grin returning.

Brittany's head shot up again, excitedly looking back and forth between the girl and her.

"What?"

Angie didn't look like she understood. "A lot of us came out after that. We were, like, inspired."

'Inspired? How the hell did that commercial inspire anyone?" It practically ruined Santana's life, her reputation. Why did it apparently have the opposite effect for someone else?

"Explain," Santana demanded a little hostilely.

Angie gulped.

"The PTA got a hold of that video and used it as some scare tactic against students. It was a huge deal. Parents were picketing and rioting at the high school." She sounded animated in her description, proud almost. "A bunch of us formed a group of LGBT students to join the parents' protest. You like," her smile doubled as she elated, "paved the way for us."

Brittany grabbed her hand and squeezed it. That stalled the tears that threatened to stem from the corner of her eyes. Inadvertently, she had encouraged others to come out in their communities. Sure, she didn't have much say in it, but apparently a good cause grew out of her misery.

"I didn't have a choice," Santana explained, desperate to correct her. She wasn't someone to be looked up to. "Did your little group know that?"

Angie covered her mouth, too shocked and embarrassed to take offense. "Oh…we, w-we didn't know."

Santana picked up the food she had dropped, determined to not let the conversation ruin her evening.

"Yeah? Well now you do."

"Please, um…"

"Santana."

"Santana," Angie repeated, like she had just stumbled onto a million dollars. "I meant nothing by it. Honestly, we didn't know it was at your expense."

Santana wiped her mouth with a napkin and gave Brittany a sparing glance. "You all came out after you saw it, right? How many of you had it broadcast to the tri-state area?"

Angie seemed to perk up. Not with cheeriness, but confidence.

"Most of us actually. Live news coverage of our protest," she offered as an explanation. There was an air of cockiness about the girl, Santana noticed. Something similar to herself, someone who had lost a fight or two and needed something to make her tougher; bravado.

Brittany set down the drink she had been meticulously sipping from to ask, "So there are a lot of kids at your school who are out?"

Angie glanced back towards the kitchen where an elderly man, round-stomached and balding, demanded her assistance. The boss, most likely.

"One minute, alright?"

They both nodded and she scurried away.

"This is awesome." Brittany turned to her. "You influenced people."

Santana spoke around a piece of bread, "How? By having my personal life exposed to thousands of people?"

Brittany frowned at her. "Santana…you helped people. Regardless of how, that doesn't change what the result was."

"I know what the result was, Brittany. I lived it. I still have people giving me sideways glances when I go to pick up food, or when I need to get my nails done. Guys still whisper about me at school. Most of the Cheerio's refuse to change in front of me. Ever notice that I go in last?"

Brittany grabbed her hand again and sort of forced her to listen. As if she weren't already.

"This is a good thing, S. You look at the glass half-empty or whatever but for once look at the other half. You may not have wanted to, or let it happen, but these people see you as a hero."

"So I have to pretend that I was okay with that ad airing, with being out of the closet?"

Brittany laughed and she looked on, puzzled. "Santana. Look at where we are. I'm on your side of the table, finally, holding your hand without the napkin. You've been okay for awhile now." She leaned in and kissed her fully on the lips, to solidify her point Santana guessed. "See. Not even a flinch."

Brittany was right. Of course she was. There wasn't anything left to hide from the world. The world knew, whether she wanted it to or not.

Her image up on that rainbow screen had helped others accept themselves. Why would that be a bad thing? A girl somewhere, hell not somewhere, Angie herself could see Santana as an example, someone to identify her struggle with. Someone who overcame what had happened and still went out to dinners with her girlfriend. Who was she to deny anyone of that comfort?

"Let something good come of it," Brittany said finally, gazing at her lovingly.

"Something already has," Santana told her. She leant forward and took another kiss, hers to steal.

xx

Angie came back with their pizza and stood around for a few more minutes to explain the extent of the group's efforts to spread an anti-bullying movement through the school. She told them how a few of the more popular cliques had agreed when one of their own came out. A girl whose name Brittany and Santana were surprisingly able to identify as someone they went to cheer camp with. A girl that Angie had actually gone on a few dates with.

Through the whole conversation and even after they were left alone to finish their meal, Santana couldn't help the burn of jealousy in her stomach. These kids were allowed to congregate and openly share how they felt about each other for the rest of their high school careers, the time when they needed that confidence most. Meanwhile, she had been clinging desperately to the rich confines of her proverbial closet, scared for one shred of light to pierce the entrance, only to be cast out face forward. Frankly, she didn't that that was fair. Hadn't she been tortured enough to deserve that kind of refuge?

The only justification she could find was that these kids weren't fighting for someone special. Her struggle wasn't about finding herself; it was about the courage to be that person. Until they had a great love of their own, they wouldn't understand why she had been so disturbed by the outcome of her life. She didn't want to come out of the closet. She had been perfectly content loving Brittany in secret; hidden away, the world couldn't tarnish what they had created together. She fought to keep that out of the light lest it be taken away from her.

The decision wasn't made by her, but for her. She was lucky enough to survive with the one thing that seemed to make the everyday struggle worth it: her love.

Maybe she was the lucky one. The hardest part was already done for her. She had suffered; nothing could be done about that. But in her own ways, she had healed. Her outing had been a great event and everyday for the rest of her life she would stay an outsider. But on the opposite side of that great event, she had found a place of peace. A world to lose herself in.

A world with a name she could say aloud.

"Are you ready to go," Brittany asked, beautiful blue eyes twinkling at her penchant gaze.

"Mhm," Santana answered, standing up from their booth. She turned and reached into her wallet, extracting a fresh twenty dollar bill, sliding it under the salt shaker as a form of tip. Angie deserved it for finally making her realize what she needed to understand.

She was okay.


A/N: Thanks for reading! :)