Hello, my sweet kittens! My apologies for the wait, but I actually had to write two more short filler chapters between the make-up scene in Rosalita's and the sex, because I believe gleefaberry was correct: the pace was a bit fast. The sex will remain the same, but there will be more substance behind it.

So, without further ado, here's the new Chapter 13!

I feel better.

After I made up with Rachel and showed her how far my rehab was coming along, I felt a tremendous weight being lifted off of my shoulders. And now, for the first time since my accident, I'm going out. I'm not making the dreary fifteen minute ride to physical therapy with Emma, or trekking down to the hospital in the new handicapable Chrysler mini-van Shannon bought the day after I came home. No more of that bitter, reclusive pining for the life I once had. Tonight, I'm going out on a date with Rachel Berry; my beautiful, sweet, tender Rachel. If you'd told me three months ago that I'd be having dinner at Breadstix with a pretty girl like her, I'd have laughed in your face and called you a dirty liar. I never thought I'd be lucky enough, after what happened between me and Santana, to have someone stay with me through everything the way that Rachel has.

But I've never been so happy to be wrong.

I'm sitting on the edge of my bed, buttoning up my hunter green collared dress shirt and getting ready to pull on my white socks when there's a soft knock on the door of my bedroom.

"Come in," I manage to grunt out, my voice strained from the effort it's taking to reach down and tug the socks over my toes.

The door opens slowly, and Brittany pushes into the room before shutting it behind her. She's wearing a plain white camisole with a pair of loose-fitting red basketball shorts that I can guess belong to Santana, her hair pulled back in the same high pony-tail she used to wear when we were cheerleading together. She gives me a gentle smile and moves across the room to cover my own fumbling hands with her own. As she kneels down on the carpet to help with my socks, Brittany's electric blue eyes gaze up at me.

"I'm happy for you and Rachel," she grins at me. I return her smile while she reaches for my chocolate brown leather cowboy boots. "I'm glad you finally found someone that makes you happy, Quinn."

"Thanks, Britt," I say contentedly after she finishes putting my boots on my feet and takes the place on the bed next to me.

"But there's something I want to talk to you about," Brittany sighs before taking my hand in mine. My eyebrows furrow in confusion at her sudden change in demeanor.

"What's wrong, B? Did Santana hurt you? 'Cause if she did, I swear I'll wring her neck –"

"That's just it, Q!" Brittany cries exasperatedly as she shakes her head. "Why can't you be happy for me and Santana? Why can't you just accept that she's changed?"

I hang my head in shame at that. When Brittany sprung the news on Rachel and me that she and Santana had been a couple for quite some time, it had both shocked and angered me. Brittany is the most kind-hearted, unassuming individual I've ever met. She's the one that convinced me to come out to my parents after graduation. She's the one that encouraged me to follow my dream of competing in rodeos all across the country. And she's the one that's always been there for me when I needed her; no matter how busy her schedule is, she's always dropped whatever she was doing (in this case, her classes at Julliard) to come and see if I was alright.

But now, in exchange for her unshakeable friendship, I've rewarded her choice to be with Santana with spite and disgust. Quite honestly, I feel like the worst best friend in the entire world.

"I'm sorry, Brittany," I whisper as a defeated tear runs down her cheek. "She was just so awful to me that I suppose it made me see the worst in everyone. And you and Shannon are my family now… I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"She won't hurt me, Quinn," Brittany says before leaning over to rest her head on my shoulder. "Actually, when Shannon called me about your accident, I was so upset that Santana pulled out of a rodeo and insisted we fly out here together to see if you were alright."

Now that shocks me. Santana, the cold, unfeeling bitch that fucked me in the very bed we sit on and left a note in the place of her body for me to find when I woke up… told Brittany that she should come and see me?

"Wow, Britt… I didn't know –"

"You should really talk to her, Q. Give her a chance. She loves me, and I know that you guys could be friends if you stopped hating each other," Brittany smiles happily at me. I don't have the heart to turn down those innocent blue eyes, so I simply nod in response.

"Good!" she squeals ecstatically and presses a quick kiss to my cheek. "Now, let's get you in your chair and downstairs. Rachel will be here any minute, and when I talked to her this morning on the phone, she said she might give you some sweet lady kisses tonight!"

My heart stops. My breathing turns to wheezes. My hands start shaking nervously. 'Sweet lady kisses', as Brittany dubbed them when we were ten years old, means sex. 'Sweet lady kisses' means sex with Rachel Berry. My face is completely blank as I lean on Brittany to get off of my bed and into the wheelchair that sits in front of my bedside table.

Tonight, if Brittany's right, I'm going to have sex with Rachel Berry.

And I'm absolutely petrified.

Alright, lovelies, the next chapter will be the date, and THEN the sweet lady kisses shall come after. A. Tenmeadows, out. : )