A Little Unbroken

by trifectaimperfecta

The story of how the misunderstood dreamer, the attention seeker with a secret, and the outcast-turned-social butterfly became what was known as the Unholy Trinity. It begins when Brittany and Santana are twelve and follows the journey all the way to senior year. Pairings: principally Brittana and Faberry.

5. The Right Answers to the Wrong Questions

"Motocross!"

"Even with the jazz hands and the goofy grin, you can't make me think it's a good idea," Santana asserted and put her hands on her hips as she looked up at her friend.

Brittany, who was high up on a branch overhead, dropped her arms back down to her sides and pouted.

"It does sound kinda dangerous, Britt," Quinn admitted apologetically.

"It's really cool, you guys. You should come watch me," Brittany insisted.

"The only thing people would see if I showed up was me dragging you off that bike," Santana replied.

"Well, since we're trying to get each other involved in things," Quinn segued while swinging back and forth on the rope ladder to the treehouse. "I did have something I wanted to ask the two of you about today."

"Oh, God," Santana rolled her eyes. "Not the damned Christ Crusaders thing again!"

"Please!" Quinn pleaded and clasped her hands together. "There were only three of us at every meeting and, now that Catherine and Angela graduated, it will just be me! I can't be president of a club that doesn't exist!"

"It might not be too bad," Brittany shrugged. "If we already knew everybody in there."

"Thank you," Quinn said gratefully and then turned to Santana. "What do you think?"

"I think I get my share of Bible thumping every Sunday when I go to church with my Abuela and I sure as hell don't need it at school."

Quinn smacked her hand against her forehead.

"We could get some of the other Cheerios to do it," she mumbled plaintively. "And maybe even some of the football guys. Finn said he'd talk to them for me."

Santana guffawed.

"Yeah, right," she sneered. "Finn only agreed to that because he's hoping to get in your pants."

Quinn blushed deeply.

"No, he isn't," she protested. "Just because you and Puck…"

Her voice trailed off when she saw the way Santana's shoulders stiffened and Brittany's expression darkened.

"…Do what you do," Quinn finished tactfully. "Doesn't mean that's how Finn works. He and I haven't done anything, really. He holds my hand; that's all. It's simple and sweet."

"Yeah, if you live in freaking Pleasantville," Santana disputed. "I know he's a little slow because this is first time around the block but, trust me, they learn how to drive quickly enough."

Quinn huffed and folded her arms.

"I think I'm ready!" Brittany called down to them, temporarily ending their dispute. "Can you toss me the rope?"

Santana picked it up off the ground while Quinn climbed to her place midway up the ladder. Then Santana tossed the heavy rope to Quinn, who in turn threw it to Brittany. Brittany furrowed her brow in concentration and deftly tied the rope around the tree branch. Once the knot was secure, she and Quinn lowered themselves back to the ground and surveyed her handiwork.

"Okay, now the seat," Brittany concluded.

She walked across the yard and disappeared around the corner of her father's shed briefly. A moment later, she guided an old spare tire into view. Brittany rolled it across the ground in front of her, hand over hand, until she arrived back at the tree. Then she had Santana and Quinn hold the tire aloft while she tied it to the other end of the rope with a similar knot.

"Brittany!" Quinn suddenly exclaimed when she saw her friend's back beneath the tank top she was wearing. "You have scrapes all over you. Is that from the tree bark?"

"Uh, no," Brittany responded quietly as her eyes flicked over to Santana. "I, um, gave my cat a bath."

She grabbed the tire and swung it with a smile on her face.

"So, want to give it a try?" Brittany offered.

Quinn nodded eagerly and climbed into place. Santana and Brittany positioned themselves a few yards away from their respective sides of the tire and pushed their friend back and forth between them.

"You know, our one month anniversary is coming up," Quinn announced. "Mine and Finn's."

"And do you and your proper gentleman have any romantic plans?" Santana asked.

"He's taking me to Breadstix."

"Well, at least the food will be good," Santana remarked. "Just don't let them jip you. You're supposed to have a full basket of breadsticks at all times. Sometimes the waitresses cop out."

Quinn nodded and shot a quick glance at Brittany. They both smiled, all-too-familiar with Santana and her high expectations when it came to food service.

"I'm really excited," Quinn confessed. "It's going to be so special."

"Do you think he'll finally make a move?" Santana asked and licked the inside of her upper lip with a smirk.

Quinn's eyes bulged in alarm.

"She means a kiss," Brittany explained.

"Oh. I don't know," Quinn shrugged.

She leaned her cheek against her hand, looked up at the clouds, and sighed dreamily.

"But, I have to admit, it would be really nice."

Brittany beamed at her friend and nodded while ignoring Santana in her peripheral vision, who was clutching at her throat and pretending to gag.

… … …

"Congratulations!" Finn raised his glass of Coke and smiled. "Captain of the Cheerios! You got it. Perfect news to start a perfect date."

Quinn grinned and rearranged her silverware to hide how elated she was.

"I had to cover the receiver just so I could squeal for a second without Coach Sylvester hearing me," she laughed. "This is seriously beyond a dream come true. It's completely surreal."

"Well, you deserve it," Finn assured her. "You worked hard this past year to prove yourself."

"I didn't think you'd noticed," Quinn blushed.

"Hard to miss someone as beautiful as you cheering me on," he replied. "After every touchdown I made, I was listening for your voice."

Unable to speak, Quinn sipped from her drink and tried to avoid the intensity of her boyfriend's gaze.

"I'm not the only one with big news," she pointed out in an effort to divert attention. "Let's not forget you've been made quarterback."

Finn breathed deeply and tapped the table with anxious hands.

"Trust me; it definitely won't slip my mind. It's a lot of responsibility."

"You're up for the challenge," Quinn concluded with a confident nod. "All of the guys like you. It won't be as difficult to lead a team that already gives you their respect."

The boy brightened.

"You really think so?"

"I know so," Quinn affirmed. "This is going to be our year to win."

Finn smiled and shook his head.

"Remind me again how I managed to get a girl like you?"

"My memory's a little fuzzy, but I seem to remember some kind of poem being involved," Quinn teased.

"Yeah, probably not my most original idea," he chuckled.

"Maybe not, but it's the thought that counts."

They finished the rest of their meal in amiable silence. Finn paid for both of them and then they departed. As the two strolled along the sidewalk, they linked arms and took in the bright blue of the late June sky.

"So, it's been brought to my attention that somebody has a birthday coming up in a couple of months," Finn remarked casually.

"Who told you that?"

"A little birdy."

"I see; and does that little birdy happen to talk to another little birdy by the name of Santana?" Quinn guessed.

"I think they might nest in the same tree," Finn replied.

Quinn snorted at the rather accurate assessment and nodded.

"What makes you mention it now?"

"Just wanting to give myself time to think of something special," Finn shrugged. "I can't go dropping the ball on your Sweet Sixteen. One of your old boyfriends might show up with something awesome and win you back from me."

Suddenly, the real point of the conversation had manifested itself. Quinn smirked knowingly and tried not to giggle at Finn's failed attempt at subtlety.

"I've never had any other boyfriends," she told him with a gentle nudge. "You're the first."

"Then that means you've probably never been kissed."

They had come to a halt on the street corner by the flower shop. The scent of oleander and marigolds drifted through the open door to where they stood. Quinn looked up through her lashes and held her breath while waiting to see what his next move would be.

"No, I haven't," she confirmed.

Finn wiped his palms on his jeans and fidgeted nervously.

"Good, so you won't notice if I mess this up," he mumbled.

Then he cupped the back of her head and brought their lips together without another word. Quinn's eyes widened at first, but then she relaxed against his chest and lightly kissed him back.

After a moment, they broke apart and laughed self-consciously. Neither knew quite what to say, so they linked their arms and walked again with the quiet settling around them comfortably.

By the time they reached the next intersection, Finn's smile proved too irrepressible for him to hide any longer.

"That was my first kiss, too," he murmured as though he expected her to be surprised.

Quinn laughed again and hugged his arm.

"Yeah, I kinda guessed."

They wrapped their arms around each other's waists and crossed the road to the continuation of the sidewalk beyond. Their steps led them in the general direction of the park and, as the trees came into view, Finn gave his final comment on the matter with a tender tightening of his grip on her side.

"I'm glad it was with you."

… … …

"You know, it figures," Santana groused as she flopped back against her bed. "I should've known Ms. Sylvester would choose Quinn over me in a heartbeat. She's got the look."

She stared up at the ceiling with her lower lip protruded and her brow furrowed. Brittany frowned and poked Santana's leg lightly.

"Don't make that face," she pleaded. "I know what you're thinking. You're pretty, too, Santana. You'd have made just as good a captain as Quinn."

The other girl did not look convinced.

"I still think it's complete crap that she didn't consider you for the position," Santana remarked instead. "You're blonde and beautiful, too, plus you can kick Quinn's ass at any routine any day. It doesn't make sense."

Brittany blushed quietly at the compliment but shrugged indifferently.

"It's like Coach said," Brittany scrunched up her face as she tried to remember the exact words. "I 'lack the necessary leadership qualities.' Besides, no one would have listened to me anyway, even if I tried to boss them around. They don't take me seriously. Nobody does, except you and Quinn."

"Well, it's their loss," Santana grumbled. "You could get us that win Sue wants at Nationals; I know you could."

Brittany gave her a grateful look and put a hand on Santana's knee. She idly ran her palm along her calf and massaged the muscles with her fingertips.

"What are you doing?" Santana raised an eyebrow. "You're likely to end up with scrapes all over your hands. I haven't shaved for my date yet, so I'm still like a freaking porcupine."

"No you're not," Brittany argued and examined the skin pensively. "A hedgehog, maybe."

Santana's jaw dropped as she pretended to feel wounded. She aimed a kick at Brittany's hip and shrieked when the girl swung her body over to retaliate. Brittany straddled her hips and grinned as she waited to see if Santana would make another strike. The other girl looked up at her unblinkingly with her lip caught between her teeth.

"You win," Santana whispered.

Brittany beamed triumphantly and kissed her.

"Sorry," she murmured. "I couldn't help it."

"It's okay," Santana replied. "It's just us, so I don't mind."

"You mean it would be okay if I did it again?"

"Sure, why not?" Santana shrugged. "I'm feeling pretty crappy after my over-the-phone rejection. Puck won't be here until five-thirty. I could stand to have a little fun while I'm waiting."

Brittany's face lit up and she closed the distance between them again. It wasn't the strongest excuse Santana had ever constructed but, if it meant she could have the girl near her, she wasn't about to complain.

… …

Brittany took the stairs two at a time as she made her way toward the Lopez family's kitchen on the ground floor. Her oversized t-shirt hung loosely off one shoulder and grew gradually damp from the poorly-dried, difficult-to-reach places on her back. She hummed happily as she rounded the corner at the bottom of the steps, but her bare feet squeaked against the hardwood floor when she spotted someone in the sitting room. It was Puck.

With a disbelieving shake of her head, the girl took a few steps in his direction and looked at him confusedly.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, hey, Brittany," he greeted casually as if he lived there. "Sorry if I startled you. The front door was unlocked so I just kinda let myself in."

"Santana said she wasn't expecting you for another hour," Brittany frowned.

"I finished my last job early and deciding to swing by since this was on the way."

She nodded absently and wandered through the doorway to her left that led into the dining room.

"Are you thirsty?" she called over her shoulder, eager for the chance to get out of having to carry on a conversation with him. "I can get you something from the kitchen."

"Sure," he agreed genially. "That'd be great."

Brittany padded through a second doorway into the room she had indicated and opened the fridge. As the cool air hit her legs, she became suddenly aware of how revealing the shorts she had on really were – far more than she would have wanted Puck to see if she'd had a say in the matter. Stalling intentionally for as long as she could, the girl perused the available sodas while she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"How about Pepsi?" she called from where she stood. "Or, if you don't like that, we have Mountain Dew."

"Pepsi's fine," he replied from the comfort of the couch.

Reluctantly, she returned with a can of his beverage of choice and stood awkwardly a few feet away while he opened it. The chill from the refrigerator had clung to her skin, leaving goosebumps along her flesh. Brittany tugged the t-shirt away from her chest to prevent it from sticking and wished she'd had the presence of mind to put on a bra before coming downstairs. Instead, she satisfied her concerns by folding her arms across her torso. At least the top wasn't white.

"So," Puck asked when he had taken several chugs from his drink. "Where's Santana?"

"In the shower," Brittany replied while avoiding his gaze.

Suddenly aware of her dripping hair, Brittany tried to wring out her ponytail as nonchalantly as she could. Puck took no notice and merely looked back down at his hands. Mercifully, Santana finally arrived, but not in a state of dress that either of them expected.

"Brittany," she called as she came into the room, clearly unaware of Puck for the moment. "Would you mind grabbing me a bottle of – Oh, hey."

Brittany could hardly suppress her smirk when Puck nearly choked on his soft drink. He snorted and then pinched his nose against the immediate burn, which only increased her amusement.

Santana must have left the bathroom the minute she had dried and straightened her hair, because that was the only part of her person that was ready for her date later that night. Small droplets were still sliding along her limbs and a sheer robe was tied loosely around her naked body. Puck was clearly having a hard time tearing his eyes away from the slight gap in the fabric, but then she tugged it closed and he was denied the glimpse he sought.

"Puck's early," Brittany offered belatedly, stating the obvious to fill the awkward silence.

"So I see," Santana returned. "Well, you wait here and I'll try to step it up a notch, I guess. Then we can get this show on the road."

She turned and started to leave the room when she realized that Brittany was hot on her heels. Santana gave her companion a brief, reprimanding glance. However, the other teen simply would not be left alone in the room with the boy again. After setting her mouth in a thin, determined line, Brittany silently prevailed upon her friend to let her lead the way back upstairs.

When the two girls had finally gotten Santana ready, they returned to the sitting room to fetch Puck. In the time it had taken Santana to finish her preparations, Brittany had gotten properly dressed and was now in a lightweight hoodie and jeans. The boy rose to his feet and set the can aside.

"You ready to get out of here?"

"Yep," Santana replied as she allowed her fists to bounce lightly against her thighs. "Ready when you are."

He crossed the room and slipped his hand around her waist. Brittany's lip curled and her nose wrinkled at the bridge, but this went unnoticed since she was standing behind them. The three made their way toward the front door and stepped out into the early evening air.

"You can get home all right, can't you, Britt?" Santana asked over Puck's shoulder.

"Yeah," Brittany replied with an easy-going shrug. "I'll just give my dad a call and have him come by in a few minutes to pick me up. I'll come back later to get my stuff."

Santana slid into the passenger's side and waited for Puck to close the door. Before it clicked into place, Brittany called out, "I'll see you after."

Her friend waved through the glass while Puck went around the car to get in behind the steering wheel. As they pulled out of the driveway, Brittany followed the vehicle's progress until she reached the mailbox. When the boy's side was facing where she stood, she lifted her first two fingers to her temple and gave him a brief salute.

Puck's brow furrowed at the way Brittany's jaw clenched and her eyes conveyed a message that he couldn't comprehend. All the same, he nodded curtly and then pulled away. Satisfied that at least she had unnerved him enough to get the rusty wheels in his head turning, Brittany shoved her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie and pulled out her cell phone. She watched the boy's car disappear around the corner as she heard a faint ringing through the receiver.

Given enough time, maybe he would understand that the salute had been a means of throwing down the gauntlet, of wishing her opponent luck – because he was going to need it. Without speaking any of the words that Santana had made it clear she was not allowed to voice, she had found a way to put forth the challenge.

May the best man win.

… … …

Quinn hooked her i-Pod to the belt loop of her shorts and used the mirror in the foyer to fix her ponytail. She stepped back and appraised her appearance before putting one of the buds in her right ear and leaving the other to dangle so she'd remain aware of her surroundings.

She locked the door behind her and jogged out to the sidewalk, turning right to head up Dudley Road and round the corner at Robinett. Her feet pounded out the rhythm to the song and she hummed occasionally. It was a bright, clear day with no passing cars to disrupt her solitude. The water bottle in the pocket of her shorts sloshed audibly with each stride and, as the sunlight streamed down without the filter of clouds or trees, it became increasingly difficult to ignore. By the time she reached Birch Hill, she had to succumb to her thirst and pause for a quick breather.

After she had finished drinking, she poured a little of the water into her palm and ran it over her hair. It was at that moment that the first sound interrupted her quiet run: a bicycle bell. She looked around and saw a girl pedaling up the hill toward the end of the road across from where she stood. Her face looked a little familiar, but it wasn't until she drew closer that Quinn realized it was the girl she had seen coming out of Ms. Pillsbury's office at the end of the previous school year.

The teen backpedaled once to come to a halt when she reached the corner. She looked in all directions, and it was then she realized she was not alone. Her dark eyes spotted Quinn and she smiled and lifted a hand to wave in greeting.

"Hello."

"Hi," Quinn called back and inclined her head once to acknowledge the wave.

"It's a nice day to be outside," the girl remarked.

"Yeah, it is."

"Are the streets always this empty?"

"It's a fairly quiet neighborhood," Quinn replied. "You're new here, right?"

"My dads and I moved into a house here in May," the girl called back.

Something in the way she said those first two words seemed like a test, as if she were waiting to see if her new acquaintance would recoil or curl her lip.

"That's a tough time of year to move," Quinn sympathized. "It didn't give you long to settle into school before break, did it?"

The girl smiled a little at Quinn's response and looked at her more carefully.

"No, it didn't," she admitted. "Not for lack of trying. I joined practically every club I could, but nothing really stuck. Do you go to McKinley as well?"

"Yeah," Quinn acknowledged. "I actually saw you there once."

"Really? You would think I would remember…"

"That's okay. You were pretty flustered at the time. I think it must have been your first day."

The girl's brow furrowed curiously as her smile became a little more hopeful. She dismounted from her bike, glanced both ways, and guided it across the street.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Quinn Fabray," she answered with a brief twitch of her lips. The girl's stare was very intense and it made her slightly uncomfortable.

"My name is Rachel Berry," the girl returned. "It's very nice to meet you."

She held out her hand for a shake. Quinn's eyebrow quirked at this unusual formality but she slid her own hand into Rachel's and shook briefly.

"Sorry that I'm kind of sweaty," Quinn apologized. "You caught me in the middle of circling the block."

"Do you do that just for your health or as practice for something?"

"Both. I'm captain of the Cheerios now, so I have to stay in shape."

"Congratulations," Rachel beamed. "That must be exciting."

"It is," Quinn nodded.

She tapped her hands against her sides and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Well, I'd better let you get back to what you were doing," Rachel said finally, taking her cue from Quinn's restlessness. "Maybe I'll see you around again sometime."

"Maybe," Quinn acknowledged. "If not, I'll see you at school."

"Right. See you then."

Quinn waved once and began moving again, sprinting now rather than jogging. Rachel watched her leave and mounted her bike once more, looking back over her shoulder one last time before she rounded the corner and the other girl was out of sight.

… … …

"I'd say make yourself at home, but this isn't exactly the best room to do that," Santana told Quinn shortly after her arrival at the Lopezs' house.

"Do you not use this one?" Quinn asked. "We don't use our living room much, either."

"Not much," Santana acknowledged. "Kinda hard to relax with that eyesore staring down at you."

She gestured with annoyance to the rather solemn-looking family portrait.

"Is that your whole family?"

"Yeah," Santana shrugged vaguely. "It's really old. I've had to look at that thing for years. They refuse to put something else in its place."

Quinn stepped closer to examine the faces and locked her hands behind her back. There was a woman with the soft hint of a smile, fair skin and dark brown eyes, with auburn hair that fell down onto her shoulders – Santana's mother, she assumed from her age. Then there was a man to Mrs. Lopez's right with a stern expression, olive skin and dark hair, and a mustache that made him appear slightly formidable – Santana's father. Mrs. Lopez's left hand was holding the shoulder of handsome young man in his early twenties. His eyes were like his mother's and he had his father's head of thick, black hair. Even with the serious expression maintained for the portrait, he gave the instant impression of being remarkably kind and gentle.

"Tony?" Quinn hazarded softly.

Santana gave a quick nod and hooked her thumbs through her belt loops while her gaze remained trained on the floor.

"You look like him."

Her friend's head lifted up for a moment and she brightened a little.

"You think so?"

"Mm-hmm. Who's the little boy at the front?"

"Matyas," Santana rolled her eyes. "Ty is the Miracle Baby because he was born too early but he survived. He's been living the life of a prince ever since."

"What about the other woman, to the left of your father?"

"Mi abuela," Santana smiled. "Mamí and Papi were always working when I was little, so my older brother and I spent a lot of time with her. After… after everything that happened, my mother started being more selective of the cases she took so she'd have more time to be home with Ty and me. I still see Abuela once or twice a week, though, on my own."

"And that one whose shoulder your grandmother is holding is you?"

"Yup," Santana sighed and shook her head. "Kinky-ass hair and all. Thank God, they finally bought me a straightener before McKinley. And some tweezers for those eyebrows."

"You do look different," Quinn admitted. "Your hair seems bigger, the way it is in the picture."

"I wasn't the only one," Santana commented. "You should've seen Puck's before he got to high school."

"Really?" Quinn asked. "What was it like?"

"Thick head of curls, all over the place," Santana laughed. "Then he got rid of everything but that Mohawk of his. I'm pretty sure he thinks it makes him look like a badass but he looks like a freaking corythosaurus. I told him as much right after he got the haircut, but then he started calling himself Puckasaurus, so that kind of backfired."

Quinn chuckled and moved to look out the window while Santana took her place and glared up at the portrait.

"There's more variety to the houses here," Quinn noted while she gazed out into the street. "Where I live, they all look like expensive carbon copies with different paint. At least here it would be easier to spot which house was yours without memorizing how many driveways down it was. If it weren't for those stone lions on either side, I'm pretty sure I'd accidentally pass it up every time I get back from –"

Quinn stopped midsentence and realized she was standing in an otherwise empty room.

"Santana, where are you?" she demanded.

"In here," called a muffled voice from down the hall.

Quinn followed the sound past several doors and into a spacious study filled with dusty, unread volumes and mahogany furniture. Santana was situated behind a large desk with her feet propped up on the edge of the table. Her hair had fallen over one eye as she reclined in the seat and a thick, lit cigar dangled from her fingertips.

"Whose room is this?" Quinn queried while she nervously glanced around for a suitable place to sit. She was afraid to risk leaving indications of their presence in case they weren't supposed to have stepped over the threshold.

"It's my dad's office," Santana replied. "He practically lives in it when he's not at work. Sometimes he even brings his dinner in here."

Her friend nodded distractedly as she finally decided to just lean against the door frame – all the more convenient in the event of a speedy departure.

"You can relax, you know," Santana remarked when she noticed the tension in the other girl's shoulders. "He won't be home for hours. I come in here all the time when he's not around. I don't really get the appeal, though. It's quiet, sure, but there's not much to do in this place."

"Maybe he likes to read," Quinn suggested tentatively as she tried to alter her posture to an easier stance.

"Nah," Santana curled her lip. "I've checked every book in this place. No markers or bent pages, ever. The lengthiest piece of literature my father ever sits through is the Sunday paper."

She swung her legs down to the floor and strolled over to the nearest shelf.

"They're not all bad, actually," she said while she perused the titles. "I've read some myself. Some are pretty awful, though - too boring even for that dried-up tightwad to enjoy - and they're practically gathering cobwebs."

"So how do you think he spends his time?" Quinn asked.

Hesitantly, she crossed the room to stand at Santana's side. Her companion shrugged noncommittally in response.

"Does whatever he has to do so he can avoid coming out and talking to us, I guess," she said without taking her eyes off the binding immediately in front of her face. "I'm sure he probably pulls one or two of these down occasionally and tries to convince himself that he finds them interesting. He's not one for imagination, though, so he can't commit to anything he chooses. He just doesn't have the right kind of brain for that stuff. He probably just skims enough to carry on an educated conversation with his buddies at parties and figures that's enough. These books aren't for enjoyment's sake; they're for social status and career advancement."

She gave a short laugh and returned to the leather chair she had formerly occupied.

"When he's not doing that, he just goes through his schedule book or looks up new articles on the Internet. You know; important and pressing business that should always take precedence over family matters."

Quinn bobbed her head absently and began to wonder just how many hours the girl had passed in this place, searching all the drawers and cabinets and piecing together the enigmatic mystery that was her own father. The picture she painted with her words was one of careful – albeit critical – study.

Santana interrupted her thoughts before she had the chance to carry them any further.

"He always keeps this office so goddamn perfect," she grumbled. "You'd think no one was ever in here if you didn't know any better. There are never any ashes in the tray or ass marks on the seats. He doesn't leave papers scattered around or a spare pair of old shoes by the door. It has nothing to make it feel more lived-in or comfortable."

That much was obvious even at a passing glance. Quinn felt as if she had inadvertently stumbled into a room from a magazine or an expensive model home. Santana swiveled the chair around on its base as if even that repeated, circular motion were a form of rebellion.

"Sometimes I like to sneak in and change one thing – just one – to see what he'll do. I wait until he comes in and try to nonchalantly walk by and catch his reaction. It's always the same. He just moves it back and sits in his chair. Perfection restored."

Her shoulders rose and fell as she came to a halt.

"So, since that does a shitload of nothing, I just come back later and swipe one of his cigars. Now that he notices."

She used the one in her hand to gesture to the box on the corner of the desk.

"Do you want to try?"

"No, thank you," her friend declined politely. "I don't smoke."

"Neither do I, ordinarily – just these, now and again."

"You're not a smoker?" Quinn confirmed with a furrowed brow. "So, why bother stealing your father's if they're not actually something you need?"

Santana allowed a perfect gray circle to pass her pursed lips. She watched silently while it drifted across the room and slowly dissipated.

"Because fuck him, that's why," she replied simply before rising to her feet.

"Sound logic," Quinn mumbled as she watched her companion work to hide the other signs that she had been there.

"C'mon," Santana urged. She crossed the room in several quick strides and rounded the corner, taking the cigar with her. "I'll show you the rest of the house."

… … …

Brittany peered out from beneath the crook of her arm as her mother walked into the craft room.

"Hello, sweetheart," Mrs. Pierce greeted with slight surprise. "Why are you up here by yourself?"

Her daughter shrugged evasively.

"Is something on your mind?" her mom queried and lifted Brittany's feet to make room for herself on the old, worn-out, brown futon.

Brittany gave another shrug. She reached for a magazine off the pile on the floor and began flicking through it idly.

"Trouble at school?"

"Not any more than usual," Brittany mumbled gloomily.

"Don't worry, honey," Mrs. Pierce reassured her kindly. "Sometimes classrooms just aren't the most conducive learning environments. It doesn't work for everybody. That doesn't mean you aren't every bit as intelligent as your peers."

Brittany allowed the magazine to fall from her hands onto her face.

"I don't think the Ohio educational system shares your opinion."

Mrs. Pierce chuckled and shook her daughter's knee.

"Come on; don't be so hard on yourself. You've made it every year thus far. I have faith in you."

Brittany lifted her head until her eyes were visible above the magazine.

"Thank you."

"Santana believes in you, too," Mrs. Pierce commented. "So that's at least one person fighting on your side when you're there."

Brittany fell silent again and began flipping through the magazine once more.

"Mom, what's a doo-vet?"'

Her mother gently took the magazine from her hands and looked at the word.

"Oh, that," she nodded. "They actually pronounce it doo-vay. It's a type of blanket."

Brittany bobbed her head and tucked the information away.

"But you don't want to talk about covers," Mrs. Pierce deduced immediately and tossed the magazine aside. "What's going on? Talk to me."

She gave Brittany her most goofily charming grin.

"I'm all ears," she stated as she put her fingers behind her lobes to waggle them back and forth.

Brittany giggled and sat up a little more before grabbing one of the small pillows and hugging it to her chest.

"It's just that Santana and Quinn have been spending a lot of time together, which is good 'cause I want them to be friends, but I don't feel like they're actually bonding very much. I'm worried because Santana took it really hard when she wasn't made captain. I don't want her to hurt Quinn or the other way around. What if they start fighting and I have to choose sides?"

"Well," Mrs. Pierce replied thoughtfully as she grabbed Brittany's sock-covered feet and danced them back and forth. "I think you and I both know whose side you'd choose, but hopefully it won't come to that. Still, I think you're probably right about them. Santana seems to be taking a leaf out of Sun Tzu's book and is keeping her friends close but her enemies closer. Except, in this case, she faces the unfortunate predicament in which her adversary happens to be both."

Brittany nodded and pouted a little.

"Do you think it will blow over?" she asked hopefully.

"In time," her mother answered. "But don't be surprised if the…"

She paused to clear her throat.

"…excrement really hits the fan before then. I haven't gotten to know her as well just yet, but I think Quinn has enough fight in her to hold her own against our Santana. Things could get worse before they get better."

Mrs. Pierce took Brittany's hands in hers and tugged her upright. She kissed her daughter's forehead reassuringly.

"You just be you, and it'll all be okay. They're both going to need that loyalty when times get tough."

Brittany threw her arms around Mrs. Pierce's neck and rested her chin on the woman's shoulder with a soft smile.

"Thanks, Mom."

… … …

Quinn held her cell in one hand while she watched her parents drive away through her bedroom window.

"Hello?" said the voice on the end of the line.

"Oh, um… Hello, Mrs. Hudson. This is Quinn Fabray. May I speak to Finn, please?"

"Of course you can, sweetie. He's right here."

The phone was passed over and her boyfriend's voice reached her ears.

"Hey, Quinn," he greeted happily. "What's going on?"

"I called to tell you that, uh, my parents have gone out. You know, just in case you wanted to come over to hang out for a while."

"Yeah! Great!" Finn responded so eagerly that Quinn could practically see him cramming his feet into shoes and stumbling toward the street. "Be there in fifteen?"

"Okay," Quinn laughed affectionately. "See you then."

The knock announcing his arrival sounded almost before she'd had time to change her outfit and walk downstairs. She checked her hair in the hallway mirror and opened the door with a wide smile.

"Hello," she greeted softly.

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him before pulling the girl into his arms.

"Hey," he said back and tilted Quinn's chin up to reach her lips.

Quinn sighed into the kiss and put her hand on Finn's chest.

"Living room?" she suggested quietly.

"But your mom," Finn worried. "Won't she flip out?"

"Not if we don't leave any evidence," Quinn assured him. "Here, take off your shoes."

He left them near the door and turned back to her. She took his hand and led him into the room to their right before making an immediate beeline to the couch.

"It's okay," she promised. "You can sit. They're overstuffed, patterned cushions so you won't leave a groove."

Finn reluctantly bent his knees and sat. He smiled a little and looked up at her.

"Not too bad," he complimented. "It's, uh, well-made."

"I know it's not comfy," she replied. "But it'll work for what we need it to do."

"Which is?"

"Give us a safe place to be alone together," Quinn explained bashfully. "Somewhere we can get closer without, you know, getting too close."

Finn nodded and tapped his hands on his knees.

"So, you gonna sit?" he asked.

Quinn settled down beside him and smiled. She reached out and touched the side of his face.

"C'mere…"

He obeyed her command and leaned in for a kiss. Quinn deepened it until Finn was leaning back against the arm of the couch, feet just off the edge of the cushion, with her resting on top of him. A part of Quinn was waiting for that 'are you sure about this?' moment that was usually exchanged between couples on T.V., but perhaps that was reserved only for complete intimacy. Finn took it slow and let her set the pace where she was comfortable, although occasionally his hands roved too freely and she had to keep him in check.

"This is nice," he murmured sincerely. "Plus you smell really good."

Quinn laughed quietly and rested their heads together.

"Thanks," she giggled. "So do you."

"New cologne," he explained proudly. "Mom helped me pick it out."

"Well, she has very excellent taste," Quinn remarked.

She started to tilt her head again when her gaze suddenly caught sight of the painting of Jesus fixed to the wall. The dark brown stare that seemed to follow wherever she moved looked down at her, and white-hot shame burned across every pore of her skin. Her eyelids clamped shut and she tried to put it from her mind, sinking down against Finn and blocking out the nagging voice in the back of her head.

… … …

"I've got a problem."

"Haven't we all?" Santana drawled and leaned against the doorframe. "Hello, Quinn, what a lovely and unexpected visit. Please, come in."

Quinn ignored her friend's sarcastic hospitality and stepped over the threshold. She cast a quick glance around the house and craned to see into the rooms beyond.

"Where is everyone?"

"Out," Santana responded indifferently. "Like always. Why are you acting like you're hopped up on special brownies? I don't think I've ever seen you this jumpy."

"I need to talk to you about something private," she confessed quietly.

"You don't have to whisper," Santana teased. "There's no one else here to hear you."

"Even so, would you mind if we went to your room?"

"All right," Santana agreed and immediately turned to walk upstairs.

Quinn shut the door and locked it before following her friend's lead. They reached Santana's room and walked inside. Quinn secured that door as well. Her friend lifted an eyebrow and perched on the edge of her bed.

"Okay, Fabray. Spill it. What's eating you?"

"I-I…," Quinn stamped her foot and pulled out Santana's desk chair so she could sit. "I'm starting to have… feelings."

She buried her head in her hands as a blush started at her neck and spread across her entire face.

"The Tin Man finally got a heart," Santana joked and sat back a little on her mattress.

Quinn peered out from between her fingers to shoot her a glare.

"Sorry. PMS. Ignore it," Santana waved dismissively. "So, I'm guessing you don't mean feelings in general, but maybe a specific kind of feeling? Sexual feelings, by any chance?"

Her question made Quinn groan and hide behind her hands again.

Santana laughed and clapped eagerly.

"Well, pardon my French, but it is about fucking time. You're a little late to the party, my friend. So, what's the problem?"

"How do I make them stop?"

Santana snorted.

"No can do, princess," she replied. "I'm afraid you're stuck with 'em now, just like the rest of us."

"Okay, then, how do I make them quiet down and stop bothering me so much?"

"Have sex."

"No," Quinn refused immediately. "Something else. There's got to be something else."

"I suppose you could always take matters into your own hands," Santana shrugged.

Quinn lifted her eyebrows. Santana ran a hand through her hair and grumbled exasperatedly – something that sounded suspiciously like, 'You've gotta be shitting me.'

"Masturbate," she finally elaborated when her companion didn't reach the conclusion on her own.

The other girl's nose wrinkled and she stuck her tongue out.

"Look," Santana addressed her impatiently. "Do you wanna hold onto that precious flower of yours or not? Keep the chastity belt in place for a little while longer?"

"Yes, of course I do," Quinn responded.

"Then you're going to have to curb this thing one way or another," Santana stated and looked at her levelly.

"How?"

"I just told you!"

"No, I mean… How do you…. do that?"

Now Santana was the one who appeared flustered. She rubbed the back of her neck and directed her attention to the way the light was shining on the ceiling.

"With your hand," she finally answered. "Not your whole hand, obviously. A beginner like you… You'd tear yourself open like a bag of Doritos. Start with one finger. Add a second, if you're comfortable."

"I won't have to get any of those magazines will I?" Quinn asked fearfully.

"Magazines?" Santana repeated confusedly, but then her eyes widened as comprehension dawned on her. "Jeez, Quinn! Where did you get your sex ed? A bunch of '80s teen movies? You can just use your imagination. Pretend it's not you touching yourself, but someone else. Finn, I guess, since – for reasons as yet unknown to man – you find him attractive."

"And then?"

"Just go with what works. If something feels good, keep doing it. I can't really give you a step-by-step past that. Everybody likes something different."

Quinn chewed on her lip and wrung her hands together.

"Would it be all right if I tried it here? In your bathroom, maybe?"

Santana's eyebrows shot up almost to her hairline but she nodded her consent.

"Yeah, I guess. Hang on, though…"

She went to her desk and opened a drawer to pull out a box of Reese's Pieces.

"Now I'm ready."

"We're not going to the movie theater!" Quinn protested as her blush returned.

"I'm not going to watch you," Santana rolled her eyes. "I'm just hungry. My lady floods are coming, remember? I am gonna sit outside the door, though, in case you need me. The last thing I need is you waddling back down the hall with your pants around your ankles asking me for last-minute instructions."

Quinn pulled a face as though she wanted to disappear into the floor.

"It's okay," Santana assured her and put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "The first time will be awkward, but you'll get better at it. C'mon. The sooner you start, the sooner you can get it over with."

Quinn allowed Santana to lead her to the upstairs bathroom at the other end of the hall and walked through the doorway.

"Should I sit or stand?" she asked before Santana closed the door.

"Sit for now. It'll be easier to focus on what you're doing."

With a shaky breath, Quinn did as her friend had instructed and tried her best to put the very simplistic tutorial into practice.

"How's it going in there?" Santana's muffled voice asked after a time, mouth half –full of chocolate and peanut butter.

"Um, okay, I guess," Quinn replied. "Nothing's really happening yet."

"Think harder," Santana instructed. "You have to give into it. If you're worrying too much about where you are or the fact that you're alone, it won't work."

Quinn tried again and closed her eyes tightly. She thought of Finn with his crooked, boyish smile and watchful brown eyes. With a little effort, she called to mind how it had felt to be in his arms when he came to her house. His mouth against hers…

Then another memory surfaced: the day he had asked her out on their first date. How Puck took her hand, led her to the top of the bleachers, and called out her reply when Finn couldn't hear.

She murmured indistinctly and hummed.

"Better?" Santana called with her mouth pressed near the edge of the door.

"Yeah," Quinn called back quickly, snapping out of her reverie.

"Sorry, I won't interrupt again," Santana apologized and leaned back against the wall while she contentedly went back to snacking.

Quinn tried to return to the memories, hoping she could pick up where she left off before Santana had brought her back to earth. She started with Finn on the couch again, remembering his hands and the quiet sighs.

Unexpectedly, an unrelated recollection intruded: the day she and Finn nearly ran into that new girl coming out of the counselor's office. How she met her again in Lima Heights and learned her name. Rachel.

A shudder wracked Quinn's body and she immediately withdrew her hand. She hastily restored her clothing to its proper place and washed her hands thoroughly.

"How'd it go?" Santana asked when Quinn opened the door and stepped over her legs.

"Fine. It was fine. I have to go."

Her feet did not stop as she continued along the hall and turned to walk down the stairs. A moment later, Santana heard the front door open and shut and Quinn was gone.

… … …

"Finn, your fair lady has arrived! Get your tardy ass down here!" Puck called over his shoulder after opening the Hudsons' door to find Quinn waiting there.

He stepped aside and allowed the girl to enter the house.

"I told him to start getting ready like an hour ago, but he dragged his big feet and stalled like a pro," Puck explained as he walked back to the couch. "I'll light a fire under him if he takes too long."

"Thanks," Quinn replied. "So, what have you guys been up to today?"

"A video game extravaganza!" he proclaimed with his arms thrown wide. "It's been pretty epic. You missed quite the smackdown."

"Did you win or did he?"

Puck puffed up indignantly and put a hand against his chest.

"You insult my gaming prowess," he protested. "I took my place as victor with grace and poise and didn't even make up a song to celebrate my success, although there may have been a dance after the last one."

"I'm sure Finn appreciated that," Quinn smiled.

"Hey, why don't you give it a try?" Puck suggested. "We've got some time to kill before Finn gets his crap together; it could be fun."

"All right," Quinn nodded and bit her lip. "You'll have to show me what to do."

Puck handed her a controller and pointed to various buttons.

"This one will let you jump. That one's for kicks. If you make this thing right here go in a circle with your thumb, you can do this really sweet flip thing. Use it sparingly, though, because it can slow you down. This one will let you go through your weapons to trade out one for another. That one lets you boost up your energy if you've got something to restore your strength."

Quinn stared at each place his finger pointed and committed the words to memory.

"Jump, kick, flip, weapons, and reboot. Right?"

"Yeah, you've got it," Puck approved and patted her kneecap. "Get ready, though, because you're going up against a seasoned professional."

Quinn giggled and perched on the edge of the couch.

"Bring it on."

They began the game and Quinn was immediately caught up in the situation it presented. She shrieked when buildings began to explode and bobbed and weaved as if there was a body sensor that would make the character copy her movements. The ground began to crumble and she stood and backed up, climbing over the back of the couch to escape.

"Where are you going?" Puck chuckled.

"I don't know," Quinn called back through her laughter.

"Well, get back here. You're kinda in the lead right now."

Quinn climbed back and settled down on the couch, though she continued to lean forward and grip the controller tightly.

She flipped and kicked the other man's jaw. He crumpled on the spot. Music began playing and stats flashed up on the screen.

"Wait, what does that mean?" Quinn asked excitedly.

"You won," Puck explained, half incredulous and half astounded. "You won!"

Quinn squealed happily and Puck gave her a hug. She threw her arms around his neck as he spun her in a circle.

"You officially have to become a new member of Game Night," Puck declared. "That was amazing!"

"What was amazing?" Finn questioned as he stepped into the living room.

Puck set Quinn back on the ground and jerked a thumb toward her with an exuberant grin on his face.

"Your girlfriend just opened up a can of whoop-ass on me," he explained. "Hold on to this one, pal. She's a keeper."

"Yeah, I know," Finn said proudly. "Ready to go?"

Quinn nodded and looped her arm through his.

"You gonna hang out here for a while?" Finn asked his friend. "Mom won't mind."

"For a little," Puck nodded. "Looks like I've got some practicing to do."

He winked at Quinn and slapped Finn on the shoulder.

"Have fun, you two. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"With those guidelines, the possibilities are limitless," Quinn quipped.

Puck tapped the side of his nose and pointed to her approvingly.

"She catches on quick, this one."

The couple walked toward the door and stepped outside. As Quinn glanced back over her shoulder, Puck bent his waist in a respectful and admiring bow.

… … …

"Happy Birthday, angel," Mr. Fabray said as he removed his hands from Quinn's eyes.

She looked out at the driveway and hopped up and down. With an elated cry, she hugged him and her mother in turn.

"Daddy, it's perfect," she beamed. "When did you get it?"

"About two weeks ago," Mr. Fabray replied. "It's been in the garage all this time. We kept worrying you might go in there and spoil the surprise."

He handed over the keys to her new, red VW Beetle and nodded in the car's direction.

"Go ahead. Climb in."

She unlocked the door and slid behind the wheel with an ever-broadening grin.

"I love it."

"Good," he responded. "Maybe, by the time the Chastity Ball rolls around, you can drive me."

Quinn nodded eagerly and ran her hands appreciatively over the steering wheel. Where they stood on the porch, Mrs. Fabray hugged her husband's arm and smiled tearfully.

"I'm not sure if I'm ready for this, Russell," she murmured and kissed his shoulder. "Our little girl is growing up."

… … …

Brittany was just outside her house when her cell went off. It was Santana's ringtone. She flipped open her phone and cradled it to her ear while she slid the key into the lock.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Britt-Britt."

She sighed as she entered the front hall. Brittany knew that tone. The 'bad news in a good way' approach that meant she was about to be placed second...again.

"Hey, Santana. I just got back from motocross. What's up?"

"Listen, I just wanted to tell you that I'm not gonna be able to pick you up today like we planned."

Even though she knew the reason, Brittany played along.

"Why not?"

"Well, it's just that Puck wanted me to go run some errands with him…"

Have sex.

"We're going to get his house ready for later tonight..."

Have sex.

"...and basically just pick out the music and set things up."

And then, just for a change of pace, have sex.

"Oh, okay," Brittany replied in the most off-hand manner she could manage. "I guess I'll just text Quinn to see if she can give me a ride."

"Okay, sounds good. Sorry about this, Britt."

Liar.

"I'll see you tonight!"

Brittany could almost envision her tossing the phone aside after this last bit, scarcely remembering to hang up as she and Puck spread out horizontally on his couch. She snapped her own phone shut and shoved it angrily into a side pocket of her backpack. That familiar feeling behind her ribcage had returned, the one that felt like she was vaulting through the air and inadvertently landed on the pole.

She shuffled up the steps sullenly and pushed her bedroom door open with her foot. Not bothering to even remove her pack, Brittany flopped stomach-first onto the bed. The contents of her bag slid forward and bumped the back of her head, but she didn't care. She twisted one arm around herself to retrieve her cell phone from the pocket. Quinn answered the text she sent almost immediately, thankfully in the affirmative.

Absolutely. I have a couple of stops to make near there anyway, so I can swing by to get you. :-)

Well, that was settled at least. Brittany wriggled her arms free of the straps and left her backpack on the bed. Forcing herself to sit up, she tried not to let her eyes wander to the framed picture of her with Santana that was on the nightstand. It didn't work. She shot the beautiful girl in the photo an accusatory look before rising to her feet.

No moping today, Brittany decided. She couldn't bear pining for Santana when, currently, she was probably the furthest thing from the other girl's mind. Brittany sucked on her lower lip and stepped out of her room. As the door closed behind her with a small click, she straightened her shoulders.

Forget this.

She would find her own fun.

… … …

The sun was disappearing behind the clouds as Quinn turned onto Brittany's street. Glad to be rid of the glare, she pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head with one hand. As she neared the cozy little two-story, she tapped her slender fingers against the steering wheel. Her head bobbed to the beat coming through her speakers. They still had several hours left before the party but she could already feel excitement pulsing through her veins.

Soon the house came into view. Quinn pulled into Brittany's driveway and parked beside her friend's small garden. As she exited the car, she smiled at the plastic sign embedded in the nearby soil: Tread carefully... Fairies play here.

After smoothing her skirt carefully, Quinn started toward the front door, but giggles coming from the backyard stopped her halfway there. She reversed her course and stepped under the lattice arch. There, she found Brittany and her little sister, Katy, side-by-side, tearing back and forth across their property. High above them, a large white kite patterned with yellow birds was catching the wind. The little girl clutched the handle in her small hands and squealed with delight. Brittany held onto a portion of the string, which kept it from dragging on the ground while allowing her to guide the kite's course. Theirs was not an exceptionally large yard but they certainly made the most of it. Their sneakers flattened a path through the grass as they zigzagged left and right while trying to keep their craft aloft.

Brittany was clearly slowing her pace to match her sibling's. She remained ever-careful not to tread on Katy's feet or leave her behind. The kite swerved on a sudden gust from the opposite direction. As the two tried to follow, their limbs got tangled and they tumbled to the ground. The kite nosedived almost immediately, but neither of them noticed as they sat laughing in each other's arms. Quinn smiled wistfully and felt a pang in her chest as she wished - not for the first time - that she and her own sister, Frannie, were still that close.

"Oh, hey," Brittany greeted her, noticing the other girl for the first time as she rose to her feet.

Katy grinned and shot one arm into the air to wave it enthusiastically at the new arrival. Quinn returned the gesture with a more conservative waggle of her fingers. The six-year-old gathered the kite and string before tugging on her sibling's hand. Brittany looked down at her with a warm smile. She crouched onto her haunches so that they were on the same eye level.

"Have a good time at your party!" Katy said cheerfully as she threw her arms around Brittany's neck.

"I will, buddy," Brittany assured her and kissed her cheek. "Be good for Mom and Dad, okay?"

"Okay!"

With that, she bounded into the house.

"I love you!" Brittany called after her.

"Love you, too!" came the muffled reply.

Quinn witnessed this exchange with an affectionate expression on her face. Brittany turned to see her watching and smiled self-consciously.

"It's nice that you guys are so attached to one another," Quinn said in an attempt to put her back at ease. "That's not something you see very often."

"We like spending time together," Brittany shrugged. "She's really great."

A few yards away, at the base of the Pierces' oak tree, sat Brittany's backpack. She slung it over one shoulder and nudged her companion lightly in the ribs.

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

They walked to the car and Brittany climbed into the passenger's seat. After placing her backpack on the floor, she tucked both of her legs against her chest as she clicked her seatbelt into place. Quinn put the keys in the ignition and draped an arm over the back of her friend's chair, twisting around while she backed out of the driveway.

"Thanks again for picking me up," Brittany said as they drove down the road. "I'm sorry it was so last minute."

"No problem. I don't mind. It'll be kind of nice to hang out, just the two of us, without Santana around."

Brittany gave a noncommittal nod while her bright eyes looked out the window. Quinn frowned pensively. She could feel the girl's unspoken thoughts hanging heavily in the air.

"So, she's with Puck, huh?"

Brittany's eyes widened, but she nodded. That was something she had not yet chosen to share, but she didn't have to; it was written on her every feature.

"They've been spending quite a bit of time together lately. I take it they're on again?"

Her friend picked at a hole in her jeans rather than respond to Quinn's question.

"I just don't understand why she can't get past him," Brittany mumbled.

"Your first is the hardest one to let go," Quinn commented. "Or, so I gather. Not that I'd know."

Her lips pursed in thinly veiled frustration. Understatement of the century. She knew the countless negative outcomes that were drilled into her head by her parents and her church. Still, she was really starting to resent this imposed celibacy. She had worked so hard to earn Finn's affections, and she was not going to be at all pleased if her damned Christian guilt caused her to chase him off by giving him one "no" too many. He was already developing a bit of a wandering eye. Sometimes she caught him staring longingly at other girls when they were out together, and she could feel the jealousy shoot up her spine and clog her throat as she nearly choked on her own desperation. She was beginning to lose faith in how much longer she could stay strong.

She noticed Brittany fidgeting in her seat, but the girl said nothing. Quinn felt a twinge of sympathy and decided to change the subject.

"Do you want to listen to some music?"

Brittany nodded and seemed grateful that they wouldn't have to continue their conversation.

Quinn twisted the nob on the radio and slid her fingers along the numbers to seek out the desired channel by touch. She paused once she found it and waited before she decided that the song was to her liking. They both relaxed as the singer's voice filled the interior of the car. The tension in their shoulders slowly eased away. Brittany's feet tapped contentedly against the seat and Quinn began to sing along softly.

I'd listen to her
'Cause I know how it hurts
When you lose the one you wanted
'Cause he's taking you for granted
And everything you had got destroyed

They spent the rest of the car ride allowing the music to fill the silence, since neither of them could seem to think of a topic that wouldn't touch a nerve with the other. When they reached her house, Quinn led the way inside, up the stairs, and down the hall to her room. As they entered, they deposited their bags by the door and then sat on her bed.

"Your room looks nice," Brittany commented. "I love how it's always so clean. You got new curtains."

Quinn beamed and nodded, pleased that she had noticed the change. Her previous curtains had been a bit dark; this lighter, softer hue helped to brighten up the room.

"I found them in a magazine while I was at the salon a couple of weeks ago," she told her. "Do you like them?"

"Mmm-hmm. Very nice."

There was a brief, awkward pause. They were both so accustomed to Santana doing most of the talking that they didn't quite know what to do with all the lulls in conversation.

"So," Quinn said at last and clapped her hands together. "What are you going to wear tonight?"

They took turns showing one another the outfits they had selected. Thankfully, comparing clothing seemed to help get the ball rolling. In a short while, they were chatting casually as they set about getting ready for the big night ahead. They traded off using the bathroom and the vanity, and they helped each other with the hard-to-reach ties at the back of their outfits.

Brittany finished getting ready before Quinn did since she had opted to leave her hair straight for the evening. While Quinn worked on getting her own blonde locks to hold a curl, she put her i-Pod on shuffle in the stand beside her. She couldn't help but smile as she noticed the reflection of Brittany dancing behind her. Even with no one really watching her, the girl threw herself into every move that she made. She hit every beat and allowed herself to become a human conduit through which the rhythm could flow.

Quinn soon wrapped up the last of her preparations. She rose from her chair and went to fetch her purse but Brittany caught her hand. Her companion turned her around and pulled her into the dance. Cooperatively, Quinn allowed herself to be led for a few moments. She laughed as her friend teased her good-naturedly about how clumsily she moved.

"I'm saving my best stuff for later," she said. "We really should get going."

Brittany nodded her agreement and led Quinn in the direction of the purse on her door handle, still not relinquishing her hold. Quinn grabbed the strap with one hand, only to be twirled back across the room toward the i-Pod. While the song came to a close, Brittany slowed her movements to a subtle sway. She held up her index finger as Quinn tried to issue another impatient protestation. When the track finally ended, Brittany switched off the i-Pod and speakers.

"Now we can go."

… …

The drive to Puck's house was pleasantly easy, filled with plenty of laughs at inside jokes and previously untold anecdotes. Quinn was relieved to find that they still paired off so easily in Santana's absence. It was nice to know they did not depend upon their missing third to hold their friendship together. She settled into this old, familiar dynamic happily and enjoyed Brittany's reassuring optimism and generally sunny disposition. Brittany, for her part, seemed glad to have her conversation with Quinn to keep her mind off the unpleasantness ahead: facing Puck and Santana together at the party.

When they arrived, they could already hear the distant sound of the bass thumping through the surround sound system in the basement. It carried faintly across the lawn and drifted out into the humid August air to mix with the chirping of the crickets. Even as they strode up to the front door, Quinn could already see a change in Brittany's behavior. She became noticeably quieter and her lower lip protruded slightly. It was as if she was already prepared to see something she wouldn't like when they got inside.

It turned out she was right. The door swung open and Quinn saw that it was Puck himself who was letting them into the house. He had a bottle in one hand and the other rested against Santana's waist. Brittany attempted a feeble smile as she saw her best friend. Santana greeted them both enthusiastically and welcomed them to the party as if she considered herself its co-host.

After addressing the new arrivals, the couple turned and moved as one through the crowd. The two girls followed closely behind them. Quinn took measured breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. The wall of bodies pressing against her on either side was making her feel claustrophobic. She hoped things would clear up a little once they actually reached the basement. While they made their way downstairs, Puck called over his shoulder and listed off their mutual acquaintances that were currently in attendance. At the bottom, they started seeing some recognizable faces. Quinn nodded as politely as she could with her head spinning and her vision blurring slightly at the edges. She said a silent prayer for an empty couch or chair to come into view, if only for the chance to clear her head and return to a state of basic functionality.

Mercifully, she spotted a window of opportunity. A couple in the corner was getting noticeably hot and heavy. As they took their passion upstairs to somewhere more private, the lounge chair they had previously occupied was vacated. She didn't waste a moment. In the blink of an eye, she was seated with her legs outstretched and her head in her hands. Brittany noticed her plight and perched lightly on the armrest. She placed a hand against her friend's back and leaned in close to the girl's ear.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Britt, I'm fine. It's just a little close in here."

When she could feel herself slowly starting to relax, Quinn finally raised her head. Her companion was still watching her warily with her muscles tensed as though ready to fetch anything for which she might be asked. Quinn patted Brittany's leg appreciatively.

"I'm okay," she assured her again.

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

"No, that's all right. Go dance. I'll catch up with you later."

"I'm gonna hold you to that," Brittany teased and pointed at her before she turned on her heel and disappeared in the throng.

It really was amazing how many people Puck could bring together, given that his social circle was generally limited to the guys on the football team. However, Quinn knew just as well as everyone else that friendship had very little to do with getting an invite. With parties like these, it was essentially a high school Who's Who. Set lists of people were expected to make an appearance, regardless of their connection - or lack thereof - to the host of the gathering. There were always some tagalongs to be expected as well, social leeches drawn by the promise of free alcohol and possible promiscuity.

Through a small gap in the masses, Quinn spotted where Brittany had wandered after leaving her side. The section of the floor that was cleared for those inclined to move had drawn in the leggy blonde like a moth flew to a flame. Her presence must have been immediately noticed, for she was already in the middle of the group. Guys and girls alike flocked around her, eager to study her moves and let her blaze the trail into glorious oblivion.

Brittany's eyes closed and she began to ride the high of the second pulse that was surrounding her. Her long, unbound hair lifted from her shoulders as she turned, and an irrepressible smile spread across her glowing face to reveal her dazzling white teeth. In that moment, she tapped into the music's soul and the crowd was hers. No one who looked at her could keep themselves from at least swaying slightly on their feet. The pure, unfiltered joy that radiated from her was irresistible and there were no longer the inhibitions of social status, familiarity, or sexual preference. There was only this brightly burning star at the center of the room and the flock of restless souls that hungered for a similar release.

Quinn watched her friend own the floor from a distance and felt terribly inadequate as she realized that there was no particular talent of her own that she could display with such authority. Fortunately, Puck swung by a second later to offer her a drink and she was able to distract herself from her thoughts. She threw back her head and downed the contents of the plastic cup in three gulps. Puck's eyes widened and he clapped his hands approvingly before thumping her on the back. He handed her a second cup, originally intended for him, laughing and shaking his head as he went to fetch himself another.

It occurred to Quinn then that she hadn't seen Santana since their arrival and she wondered what or who had finally managed to pull her companion away from the role of the ever-present girlfriend. She had only to turn her head to find the answer. There, on the dance floor right beside Brittany, was Santana. Her black hair was already beginning to stick damply to her neck and forehead, but she didn't seem to notice as she followed her friend's lead and shook her hips to the beat. Brittany, on the other hand, seemed much more conscious now than she had been moments before. Granted, she still moved freely and her eyes still had the glazed-over look that clouded them whenever the thrill of the dance took hold. However, it was clear that her attention was now drawn to one among the surrounding number. She never strayed far from Santana's side, and the two girls frequently played off one another. They alternately combined their moves or opted to forsake them altogether in favor of rubbing and grinding against one another.

Quinn marveled at their abandon, knowing how cautious Santana usually was about making sure everyone else viewed them as best friends only. Brittany was obviously enjoying this exception to the rule. Her head rested against Santana's while their bodies curved into one another and her nostrils flared occasionally as she inhaled the other girl's scent. Quinn bit her bottom lip and worried that they were taking it a few steps too far. Just as she found herself digging her nails anxiously into the arms of her chair, though, Puck arrived beside the ladies. He slid easily in between the two and the moment was broken. Brittany went back to entertaining the masses, though with slightly diminished enthusiasm, and Santana centered on Puck as the next in line to get acquainted with her most intimate places.

The evening passed by in a haze. As people came and went, Quinn did her best to make her rounds but her heart wasn't in it. She didn't really know most of them anyway and, without Finn on her arm, she felt far less confident as she moved around the room. When he was with her, the boy would spend the entire party at her side. He always supported her weight when she got a little lightheaded from the heat and the closeness of those around them. Finn also made sure that she was never left alone, never allowed long enough to remember what it was like to be an outsider looking in. Now, in his absence, she felt hopelessly adrift. She tried not to resent the fact that Finn and his mom had gone to visit his aunt for the weekend, but it was difficult when she found herself needing him so much. So, to bolster her confidence, she made sure that her path occasionally took her near the table laden with plastic cups and downed several more on top of the previous two.

A while later, she found an open seat on the couch nearest to where the others were dancing. She tucked her legs up underneath of her and propped her chin on her hand. Brittany hadn't left her spot once the entire night but she was still going strong. Puck and Santana, on the other hand, had crossed Quinn's path repeatedly while she was circling the guests. From what Quinn had seen, her friend had visited the drinks table even more often than she had.

Santana and Puck were back on the floor now, though. They were pressed flush against one another and his palms were beginning to rove. While his hands remained below her waist, Santana allowed him to squeeze her without objection. However, when one of them snaked up her side and settled on her breast, she gently removed it and placed it behind her neck. He pulled her in for a kiss and she opened her mouth wide at the touch of his lips.

Quinn shifted uncomfortably. She averted her eyes, at which point her gaze fall on her other friend, who had stopped moving for the first time that night. Brittany stood motionless, with bodies bumping against her on either side, as she stared openly at the intertwined forms of Puck and Santana a few feet away. Though Quinn couldn't swear to it from where she sat, she thought she saw the girl's lip quiver slightly. At last, Brittany shook herself from her thoughts and looked elsewhere, only to spot her companion watching her from the couch. She blinked away the last traces of emotion and beckoned with a crook of her finger and a grin. Quinn hesitated but, since neither of them wanted to see the scene playing out nearby, it seemed like a welcome distraction.

She rose to her feet and joined Brittany on the dance floor. Quinn did her best to follow her friend's steps, although the bar was set undeniably high. Brittany was remarkably patient with her. She smiled affectionately as her friend attempted to look more comfortable than she felt. Then she took it upon herself to remedy the situation. Brittany moved in a little closer and placed her hands on Quinn's hips. She kept a respectful distance but used her hold to guide the other girl's movements. Occasionally, she would tap her companion's feet with her own, indicating which one she should be using for each step.

Once she thought her pupil had it down, Brittany released her and watched Quinn put the tutorial into practice. It worked. Quinn's face was aglow with pride at having mastered the lesson so quickly and Brittany looked just as pleased. From then on, the awkwardness was gone. Quinn closed her eyes as she had seen her friend do earlier and turned herself over to the music. Though she couldn't see her, she suspected that Brittany had done the same. For a short while, they were both able to block out the sights and sounds of the party and enjoy the exhilarating abandon.

Until Santana's voice sliced through the fog.

Quinn's eyes snapped open in alarm. She looked around confusedly for a moment until she spotted the girl a short distance away from where she had seen her last. Apparently, at some point during their dance, Puck had gotten... distracted... by one of the other girls near him and Santana had not taken kindly to it at all. She shoved hard against her boyfriend's chest and yelled angrily at him. It was evident that their friend was in fact drunk because tears slid down her face as her voice began to quake. Were it not for the influence of the alcohol, she would never have allowed him to see how much his infidelity hurt her.

Santana stomped her foot and rushed away from everyone. Brittany immediately followed, pausing only long enough to shoot a disgusted glance at Puck. Duly taken aback, Puck stepped out of her way and allowed her to pass. Brittany's legs carried her quickly through the crowd as she chased after the weeping girl. Quinn hung back, uncertain of what to do. At last, she decided that she had just as much a right to want to comfort her friend at such a moment, so she followed the path that Brittany had taken.

Quinn found the two closed in the small bathroom at the opposite end of the basement. She knocked lightly as she stood in the doorway, afraid that her arrival would be seen as an intrusion. Her companions were curled up on the floor together. Santana was hugging the toilet and her shoulders tensed as her body wracked with sobs and suppressed heaves. Brittany was holding her hair up with one hand and rubbing her back with the other. When she spotted their friend in the doorway, Brittany jerked her head to the right to indicate that the girl could enter. Quinn walked a few steps more and closed the door. She knelt on the floor and her fingers brushed the tiles beneath her for balance.

Santana wretched finally and her moans echoed pitifully as she spat out the excess. In between bouts, she hiccupped and whimpered about the state of her relationship with Puck. Then her contracting stomach muscles cut off thoughts of anything else and she was forced to lean farther into the bowl as illness took over her.

Though the stricken teen couldn't see it in her current position, she was not the only one in the room who was crying. She was trying her level best to conceal it but tiny, iridescent droplets were slipping from the corners of Brittany's eyes. Quinn pretended that she didn't notice but her heart broke at the sight of it. In a moment of clarity, she realized that this scenario summed up the girls' relationship pretty succinctly. Santana got in over her head and wailed as things fell apart; Brittany picked up the pieces while knowing that no credit would be given for her help.

Now, Brittany was repeatedly gulping mouthfuls of air and swallowing hard. Her neck and cheeks turned pink as she fought down the anguish of knowing the fact that she was present there and now - was there always - simply did not prove enough for the girl in her arms. Quinn's hand twitched at her side. She wanted so badly to ease the pain for her friend but there was nothing she could say or do to change things for her. So they sat in the relative silence and listened to Santana empty herself into the basin.

After a time, the poor teen was finally spent and her body went slack as she slid from the toilet. She curled into the fetal position and wrapped her shaking arms around herself. Her dark eyes closed and she sighed heavily. Quinn pushed off the floor to reach for the towel on the rack above her head. She ran it under the faucet for a few seconds and then passed it to Brittany to clean Santana's face. Her companion accepted the cloth with an appreciative nod. She dabbed carefully at the other girl's chin and cheeks, her fingers lingering perhaps a little longer than necessary at the corners of her lips. Then she put the towel down on the linoleum beside her and met Quinn's gaze for the first time since she'd come into the bathroom. Her eyes rimmed with grateful tears as she mouthed to her friend silently.

Thank you.

… …

It took a quarter of an hour before Santana was finally recovered enough to leave the bathroom. Once she was able to rise - albeit unsteadily - to her feet, the first thing she wanted was to be taken home. Brittany and Quinn led her back to the party by supporting her weight on either side. Without a word to anyone, they made their way awkwardly toward the stairs. They couldn't all three make it up the passage as they were, so Quinn fell a step behind and allowed Brittany to lead the way.

Soon, they were out in the night air once more and it finally occurred to them that they might have difficulty getting home. Santana wasn't sixteen yet and was obviously in no fit state to sit behind the wheel anyway. Quinn could feel a strong buzz that was making her a bit wobbly on her legs.

"I'm going to drive," Brittany stated decisively when Quinn voiced her concerns, and her friends looked at the girl as if she'd lost her mind. "Look, I know I haven't gotten my license yet but I can do it. I'll just be sure to take it easy. It's only this once. What else can we do?"

They had to admit that she was right. So, the three of them climbed into the waiting car with Santana stretched out in the back and the other two seated in the front. As they closed their doors, Brittany held out a hand expectantly. Quinn's brow furrowed. Now came the hard part. She fished into her purse and withdrew her keys to place them hesitantly on the outstretched palm before her. Brittany nodded and turned to look straight ahead with her jaw set in determination.

Backing out of the driveway went better than Quinn had anticipated. The Puckermans' mailbox was still in place as they pulled away, so things were certainly off to a good start. The rest of the drive passed almost without upset and she had to concede that this wasn't as bad an idea as it had initially sounded. The only disturbance was when they passed a cop on the street right before Santana's, at which point Brittany grew visibly nervous. She gripped the wheel with white knuckles then. Her back went rigid and she held her head held unnaturally high as she tried to look inconspicuous. Aside from this adorable and unnecessary charade, however, the incident amounted to nothing.

They rounded the corner and their destination was finally visible in the distance. The homes on either side loomed over them imposingly. Brittany frowned a little and eased up on the gas as she crept into the driveway at the Lopez residence. She parked and the three girls climbed out of the car. They closed their doors as quietly as possible, hip-checking them into place to prevent the sound from carrying. Santana insisted on walking on her own, so Quinn and Brittany stayed on either side of her as buffers in case she should lose her balance.

The girls had left the party so quickly that Santana didn't grab any of her things from upstairs, which meant that her purse and key ring were still where she had left them at Puck's house. Thankfully, the spare was in place behind the porch light. Santana stood on tiptoe with one hand pressed against the brick to support herself. After fetching the key, she let herself in and turned back to her friends.

"Thanks, guys," she whispered and pushed her hair back off her forehead. "For everything."

She gave Quinn a small smile before her gaze flicked over to Brittany. The girls' eyes locked for a moment. Santana broke the contact first and exhaled sharply before entering the house with a final wave.

Quinn and Brittany stepped off the porch and went back to the car. Neither spoke as Brittany backed out of the drive and turned in the direction from which they came. Quinn had never been more grateful that she and Santana lived so close to one another. It had been a very long night and she was suddenly exhausted.

They reached her home in Lima Heights in a matter of minutes. Brittany parked the car and handed the keys back to her companion. Mr. and Mrs. Fabray were already in bed, so their daughter and her friend were careful not to make too much noise as they entered the house. They deposited their shoes in the entryway so they wouldn't clack on the floor. Quinn flicked on the lights and led the way into the living room. They both flopped onto the couch with a groan.

"Well, I'm glad that's over," Quinn said.

"Me, too," Brittany agreed.

"Do you want to sleep?"

"Not yet."

"Neither do I."

"I kind of wish I'd had something to drink now," Brittany said as she rubbed her shoulder. "My nerves are all frazzled."

"I can get you something," Quinn offered. "My parents have me mix drinks for them all the time. Trust me; it tastes way better than anything you could have gotten at Puck's party."

"Okay."

Quinn rose to her feet and crossed the room to set to work. Her companion stretched her legs and covered her eyes with her arm. When Brittany felt the other girl sit back down beside her, she peeked out and looked at the glass being held in front of her face.

"What is it?"

"It's called a White Russian," Quinn replied.

Brittany sipped tentatively.

"Not bad, I guess. It's sweet. You're having one, too?"

"Might as well," Quinn shrugged.

They both lapsed into silence and drank. Brittany stared down into her glass thoughtfully. She licked the foam from her lips and looked at Quinn.

"Thanks again for being there with Santana tonight," she said. "It was good to have someone else with me, for once."

"It's what friends do," Quinn told her dismissively. "Do you think she's going to be all right?"

"Yeah, probably."

"Will you?"

"Me?" Brittany asked with surprise. "What do you mean?"

"That can't have been easy for you. If I had to watch Finn acting that way, I don't know how I'd react. It would tear me apart."

"Yeah, but he's your boyfriend. Santana's my best friend. It's different."

"Is it?" Quinn asked softly and looked directly into the other girl's eyes. "You two are closer than any best friends I've ever met."

Brittany didn't answer. Her eyes widened and her body stiffened. She did not have a ready response for the turn that this conversation was taking. She respected Quinn enough not to lie to her but her adherence to Santana's orders kept her from speaking the truth.

"You love her, don't you?"

It was not really a question.

Brittany's lip protruded for the second time that night and she looked stricken with guilt. Her mouth feebly tried to form a vague reply but she couldn't think of the right words.

"It's okay," Quinn assured. "You don't have anything to feel ashamed of. You didn't give yourself away just now. I've had it figured out for a while."

"Santana made me swear..."

"She doesn't have to know that I know. I'm not going to tell her. I do think you should talk to her, though."

"About what?" Brittany asked.

Quinn took the girl's hand with a pitying expression on her face.

"About how you feel. She shouldn't always expect to have you on reserve like this. You do more for her on a daily basis than Puck has done in their entire sham of a relationship."

"It doesn't matter," Brittany countered. "She wants to be with him. I mean, I wish she had more time for me like she used to, but that doesn't change anything. We could never... There's no way. How things are now is how they have to stay. She told me so. It's just hard for me sometimes and Santana..."

"Santana is so far in the closet that she's in Narnia," Quinn finished for her.

Brittany threw back her cocktail to avoid commenting. Her friend watched her and admired her unwavering loyalty. Brittany had promised that she wouldn't tell anyone their secret and she was remaining true to her word. Whatever Quinn surmised on her own was out of her control, but she wasn't going to utter a syllable.

"You're a really good person, Brittany," Quinn told her as she finished off her own glass.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You're a way better person than you give yourself credit for and a lot better than the people you love deserve, honestly. They don't realize what they have. I feel really bad because I know that I took it for granted, too, until tonight. You're always there for us, even when no one notices you."

"I take care of the people I care about," Brittany shrugged. "That's how it's supposed to be."

"But what about you? Who helps you with your problems?"

"My family does. I talk to them every day and Santana always steps in if someone says something mean to me," she replied.

Quinn waved an impatient hand.

"Not like that. I mean the important things. What happens when you have a major problem and you're too proud or ashamed to ask for help? Who knows you well enough to intervene anyway? Who takes care of you?"

Brittany downed the last of her drink as she thought. When she finally answered, her voice was scarcely audible.

"I guess I do."

A few miserable tears slid down her cheeks. Quinn cupped her friend's chin in her hand and made Brittany look up at her. She didn't know the right words to say but she tried to communicate her thoughts with her eyes: her apology for making the poor girl cry and her willingness to listen whenever she was ready to talk. Brittany seemed to understand and did her best to smile as her mouth trembled sadly.

Then, for reasons Quinn herself wasn't sure she understood, she kissed Brittany.

It was half impulse and half inexplicable need. Her friend shuddered at the touch but didn't pull away. For the first few seconds, Brittany held still and allowed Quinn to press her lips against her mouth. Then Quinn raised her free hand to the other girl's cheek and used the pad of her thumb to wipe away the tears. This brief gesture, a simple sign of her sympathy and care, broke through Brittany's reserve. She returned the kiss with an unexpected urgency that caught the other girl off-guard. They both set their drinks aside on the end tables that flanked the couch. Brittany's mouth was laced with the taste of coffee liqueur and cream. Quinn savored the bittersweet flavor on her tongue as she licked it away.

Without making a conscious decision to do so, she felt herself fall back against the couch. Brittany straddled her immediately and for the first time Quinn found herself balking at the progression of events. She tried to pull away a little but this only caused her companion to deepen their kiss. Quinn pressed her palms against her friend's chest as she tried again to disengage. Brittany paused and her eyebrows drew closer together as she studied the girl's anxious face.

Quinn didn't have to ask the question. She had only to bite her lip and give Brittany a pleading look with her wide, vulnerable eyes to communicate her concern. Her friend shook her head slightly in an unspoken vow of silence and then kissed her again. Things moved even faster after that, and it was both thrilling and terrifying for the inexperienced teen. She could feel her dress being hitched up her legs and past her knocking knees. She gasped against the mouth pressed to hers as the folds of cloth reached her waist. Feeling Brittany pressed to the insides of her thighs, a private place that even Finn had yet to touch, made Quinn's head spin with giddy uncertainty and fear.

It struck her then that she was allowing the girl an overwhelming advantage, and she decided to even the score a little in her favor. She wrapped her arms around Brittany's sides and skittered her fingers along the myriad ties at her back. Her hands were trembling uncontrollably, and it seemed to take an eternity to make them obey her commands, but Quinn managed to undo the knots one-by-one. The powder blue top was sleeveless and, as the last tie at her neck came loose, it fell from Brittany's torso and onto Quinn's stomach. A strange shockwave exploded through Quinn's veins and her arms and legs were covered with bumps as her hairs stood on end. The girl was stunning. Her skin looked impossibly smooth and soft and it proved too tempting not to allow herself a brief exploration of this newfound territory.

Brittany grunted as Quinn pulled her closer and she pushed away gently. Her objection became evident when she tugged her companion's dress up to armpits. Compliantly, Quinn raised her arms and allowed Brittany to remove it the rest of the way. After she dropped the outfit to the floor, Brittany unbuckled her white capris and added them to the pile.

They both sat up for a moment and looked at one another. Brittany appeared comfortable in her near-nudity and allowed her companion full view of her body clad in a lacy white bra and underwear. Quinn was far less casual. She had never been in such a state of undress in front of someone else - outside of the showers after Cheerios practice or perhaps the doctor's office- and she felt suddenly cold. Brittany saw her shiver and reached out for her hand. She squeezed it reassuringly. Quinn gulped.

Here goes nothing.

She took Brittany by the shoulders and pushed her back against the couch. Her legs swung to either side of the teen's hips and pinned her into place. As she kissed her companion again, Quinn's heart was pounding in her ears and drowning out the sound of her own heavy breathing. She had no idea what she was doing but that didn't seem like it was going to stop her from trying. She figured that she knew enough about the basics to make educated guesses as she went along. Surely, Brittany would guide her through the motions when she was unsure of herself, just as she had when they danced earlier that night.

She slipped her mouth from Brittany's and moved it along the girl's jawline. Then she dragged her lips down the underside of her chin and to the hollow at the nape of her neck. She flicked her tongue over that small spot and smiled to herself when she felt Brittany quiver beneath her. Quinn didn't allow herself to linger. She lowered her head to the other girl's heaving chest and breezed over the exposed skin, planting feather-light kisses over every inch. Her teeth pulled playfully at the border of lace and Brittany whimpered as the tug of the material grazed against the tender flesh beneath. Quinn left her wanting more and neglected to uncover her in favor of sucking on the glistening skin over her abs. The muscles beneath Quinn's mouth contracted and loosened in response to her touch. Brittany arched up against her as a breathy sigh slipped from between her thin, parted lips.

Quinn scooted down the couch and freed Brittany's legs to spread apart. She moved her body into the open space and lowered her pelvis to rest against the cotton below. Brittany's hands rose from the couch and slid behind her. Quinn felt them push firmly against her rump and the manicured nails dug into her skin through the fabric. Here, she faltered.

Brittany took over then. She guided one of Quinn's legs back to the opposite side of her thigh and helped her readjust before roughly pulling her forward with alarming force. A light switched on inside Quinn's mind as they collided. Her ability to form coherent thoughts flew far away as she cried out. Brittany pressed her fingertips against the girl's mouth to muffle the sound. Her own face was growing red, showing that she was suppressing her shouts as well. Quinn was glad she'd had the presence of mind to do so; in the heat of this discovery, she had nearly forgotten the danger of waking her parents.

Quinn fell forward. She shuddered uncontrollably against the expanse of skin beneath her trembling form. Her friend held her close and wrapped her in a calming embrace. When she caught her breath, Quinn pushed away from the harbor of Brittany's arms. She backed toward the furthermost end of the couch. Her heart was positively hammering now as she looked down at the young woman spread out in front of her. She wanted so badly to be bold and self-assured, but she had to admit that she was petrified. It did not help that Brittany's eyes seemed to hold a similar emotion and her shoulders were clearly tensed.

Quinn took a steadying breath. She cautiously extended her right hand and traced her index finger along the girl's inner thigh. Brittany inhaled sharply but held relatively still. The tentative teen finally reached the elastic band that she sought and tugged at it slowly. Her companion was shaking violently now and Quinn could see the tremors in her own hand as she slid the underwear down further. She caught a glimpse of the soft hair beneath, but then smooth thighs closed on either side of her hand and stalled her movement.

"Wait."

She lifted her gaze to find that Brittany was looking down at her with an unidentifiable expression in her eyes. Quinn withdrew her hand.

"I...," Brittany began.

The girl's voice cracked and a small sob tore from her.

"I can't. I can't do this."

Quinn sat stunned for a moment. Her breathing slowed while she let this statement sink in.

"I'm so sorry, Quinn. I'm so, so sorry," Brittany cried as she sat up to throw her arms around her friend's shoulders. "I just can't. It wouldn't be right."

She clutched onto her and Quinn hugged her back consolingly. Now that the haze of passion had cleared, she was caught under an unbearable onslaught of remorse as she realized what they had nearly done. She had almost lost her virginity and Brittany... Poor Brittany. She understood perfectly why the girl had put a stop to it. If she had slept with Quinn, she would have irreparably damaged her relationship with the girl that possessed her heart. What she and her best friend had was special on its own, but made all the more so by the fact that they had only shared that with each other. If Brittany had surrendered that experience to someone else, she would have relinquished the one and only act of love that had ever been Santana's exclusive right.

"Oh, shit," Quinn swore guiltily. "Brittany, I'm the one that's sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. I didn't mean to do this. I'm so sorry. I just..."

She began sobbing before she could finish her sentence and Brittany stroked her hair. She shushed her comfortingly and rocked from side to side.

"It's okay. Don't blame yourself; it just happened. This wasn't your fault."

It was tempting to allow those soothing statements to ease her doubt, but Quinn wasn't quite through berating herself.

"Even so, I'm such a freaking hypocrite. Here I was talking about how everyone takes advantage of you and then I turn around and do the exact same thing."

"Well, I didn't exactly shove you away," Brittany reminded her. "I needed you, too, just then. Sometimes it's nice to be noticed."

Quinn had to agree. Anymore, her private exchanges with Finn were always tainted by his complaints about the restrictions she placed on them. This was the first time in a long while that being touched by another person had made her feel special.

Brittany nudged her friend with her shoulder. She held out her hand with a sweet smile.

"Friends?"

"Yeah," Quinn agreed and accepted the handshake.

"Okay, then."

The two girls tidied the couch and disposed of their empty glasses. They stood side-by-side while they put their clothes back on and blushed a little when they became aware of how much they had exposed.

As quietly as they could, the friends crept up the stairs to bed. Brittany grabbed her bag and went to the bathroom. Quinn took advantage of her absence to change into her nightgown. A while later, she heard a quiet knock on the door. She found herself smiling at her friend's endearing attempt to respect her privacy.

"You can come in."

Brittany slipped inside and shut the door. She made a beeline for the bed and crawled under the sheets. Quinn circled around and climbed in on the opposite side. She switched off the lamp and pulled the cover up to her chin. They both remained pensively silent for a time. Eventually, the fatigue from all that had passed took hold and they began to drift off slowly.

"Good-night, Quinn," Brittany murmured and turned over onto her side.

"Good-night, Brittany."

… …

The following morning, Quinn awoke as the pale light of day fell across her face. She groaned and rolled onto her hip to escape its rays. The space beside her was empty.

"Brittany?"

There was no answer.

She climbed out of bed and shuffled down the stairs. Her parents were both already gone for the day so the house was even quieter than usual. Then she heard a faint clinking in the kitchen and followed the sound. There, perched atop a stool at the counter, sat Brittany. She was stirring cream and sugar into a cup of coffee.

"Good morning," she greeted when she saw her friend standing in the doorway.

"I thought maybe you left."

"No, I just got up kinda early. I made us some coffee. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, absolutely."

She joined Brittany at the counter and poured herself a serving. They both took a few minutes to savor their drinks and collect their thoughts.

"Quinn?"

She looked up at the sound of the other girl's voice.

"About last night..."

Quinn looked back down at her mug. She trailed her finger around the rim while she waited for Brittany to continue.

She didn't.

Green eyes met blue as she looked up a second time. She saw that her friend was struggling to find the words to form the question she needed to ask. Quinn knew what she wanted to say, regardless.

"Brittany, I swear to you, I won't be the one to tell Santana. If you decide one day that you want her to know, that's up to you, but I'll keep it a secret until then."

"Thank you," Brittany said with an appreciative smile. "I won't tell Finn, either. Or anyone else."

"I don't think we really need to worry about Finn. My boyfriend has many great qualities but keen observational skills are not among them."

Brittany chuckled and finished off the last of her coffee. Then she hopped down off the stool and slung her backpack over her shoulder. Quinn noticed for the first time that the girl was already dressed and wearing her sneakers from the previous day.

"I can drive you home, if you'd like," she offered.

"That's okay. It's nice outside today and a walk sounds really good."

"All right, if you're sure."

"Yeah, I am."

She strode over to Quinn's stool. Her long legs made it possible for her to wrap her arms around her friend without standing on tiptoe.

"Later, Quinn. I'll see you soon."

She turned to go but the other girl's voice stopped her halfway across the room.

"Britt?"

She turned back.

"Hmm?"

"Are we okay?"

"Of course."

Her nose wrinkled at the bridge as she grinned. Quinn studied Brittany's eyes and found that she believed her. There was no resentment or pain hidden there, only sincerity.

"I'm really lucky to have you for a friend," Quinn mused aloud.

"Same here," Brittany replied and swayed from side to side while holding onto her backpack straps. "Bye, Quinn."

She left the Fabrays' house and closed the door quietly behind her. As silence settled around the house once more, Quinn sipped from her mug and looked out the window at the clear blue sky.

… … …

A light knock sounded at Santana's bedroom door.

"What fresh hell is this?" she grumbled and draped an arm over her eyes.

Another knock followed the first.

"Matyas, if that's you, I swear to God I will rip off your family jewels and feed them to the neighbor's cat!"

"It's your mother," Mrs. Lopez replied as she opened the door. "And I don't think your brother would want to be parted from that portion of his anatomy."

"Oh," Santana murmured and sat upright. "Sorry, Mamí. What is it?"

"I just came up to tell you that Brittany's here," her mother explained and stepped aside to let their visitor pass.

Brittany smiled at Santana and paused when Mrs. Lopez put a hand on her arm.

"See if you can help her find her sunnier disposition, would you? She seems to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed without ever actually leaving it."

Santana overheard the comment and scowled but Brittany giggled.

"I'll see what I can do."

Mrs. Lopez patted Brittany's shoulder gratefully and closed the door as she left.

"Hey," Brittany said softly and sat down beside her friend. "How're you feeling?"

"Like the living dead. You?"

"A little tired," Brittany shrugged. "You had a pretty rough night last night."

"Yeah," Santana concurred and rubbed at her bloodshot eyes. "Did I make a complete fool of myself?"

"No, sweetie," Brittany soothed her and brushed back her hair. "You had every right to be upset."

"Am I being too demanding? I mean, am I so worthless that he can't even pay attention to me when I'm right there?"

Brittany stretched out beside Santana and wrapped the girl in her arms. She kissed her companion's forehead before resting her cheek on her hair.

"You're not too demanding," Brittany mumbled. "And you're definitely not worthless."

"Then what is it?"

"Puck is kind of a jerk," Brittany replied gently. "He doesn't know how lucky he is."

"Do you think he ever will?"

"Maybe not," Brittany shrugged. "But if he doesn't, somebody somewhere is going to. I know it."

Santana held onto her friend's arm and rested her head against the girl's chest.

"I hope you're right," she sighed quietly. "What would I do without you?"

… … …

"Quinnie!" Mrs. Fabray called up the stairs. "I think your new uniform is here!"

Quinn bounded down the steps with a smile already on her face. She accepted the box from her mother and pecked her cheek.

"Thank you, Mom," she said and turned to go back upstairs. "I'll go try it on and make sure it fits."

Coach Sylvester was still using the same uniform as the previous year, but Quinn's growth spurt over the past few months had made it necessary to order a new one to maintain the appropriate skirt length.

She placed the box on her bed and used a small knife on her key ring to cut through the tape. Her hands fished through the packaging and carefully lifted the crisp, vibrant material out to drape across the covers. Quinn pulled her shirt over her head and shimmied out of her jeans before reaching for the uniform. The shirt slid on easily and zipped cooperatively over the bottom of her ribcage. As she walked toward her mirror, she guided her skirt up her thighs and prepared to secure it in place. However, the zipper resisted the movement of her hand and remained motionless. With a deep frown, Quinn tried again. Still nothing. Finally, inhaling deeply, she gave it one last tug and the zipper moved along the teeth to its proper place beneath the button.

Quinn sighed unhappily and examined her reflection in the mirror while she tied her hair into a high pony. Had she been too slack in her exercise regimen over the summer? Was she gaining weight in the absence of daily Cheerios practice? Her hand rested over her abdomen and squeezed critically. Perhaps she had.

She crossed the room and shoved her feet into a pair of sneakers before dashing down the stairs toward the door.

"Going out for a run?" Mrs. Fabray asked. "Be careful not to stain anything. That's brand new!"

"I will!" Quinn called and continued her pace out into the street.

Her feet pounded against the pavement and she pushed herself until her muscles ached. By the time she looked up, she was in the outermost reaches of the park and the sun was beginning to dip in the sky. She staggered over to a tree and leaned against it to catch her breath.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

Quinn's head snapped up in the direction of the sound, and she saw Puck sitting on a bench and lighting a cigarette.

"You look like you're running from the zombie apocalypse," he remarked. "Is somebody bothering you?"

"No," Quinn shook her head.

"Something's got you upset," he noted and flipped his lighter closed. "Running from your problems? Doesn't work; trust me."

Quinn sat down heavily beside him.

"Need to get it off your chest?" he offered.

"I'm just doubting myself today," she mumbled wretchedly.

"Why?"

Quinn shifted and looked him directly in the eye.

"Do I look fat to you?"

He snorted, but his eyes widened when he realized she was serious.

"No," he asserted adamantly. "Not even close. What put that idea in your head?"

"I had a little trouble fitting into my skirt," she sighed.

"Well, not to be a total dude right now, but you do kinda have some junk in the trunk – in a hot way. Maybe that uniform just wasn't ready for your bodacious bod."

Quinn laughed and shook her head.

"I don't think that's it," she murmured.

Gloom settled over her again and her shoulders slumped. Puck observed her worriedly and nudged her with his elbow.

"Hey," he said quietly. "You know what I do when life gets me down?"

"What?"

"Drink. I've got some wine coolers back at my place. You interested?"

She sniffled a little and nodded.

"O-okay."

Puck stood and crooked his elbow. Quinn slid her arm into the space and walked beside him, leaning against his bicep. They walked in relative silence until they neared his neighborhood and left the shelter of the trees.

"Thanks for doing this, Puck," Quinn said when they entered his house. "I could definitely use the distraction.

"No problem," Puck shrugged and left the room to fetch the drinks.

He returned, handed one to Quinn, and held onto another for himself.

"Drinking by yourself is depressing. Add another person, it's a party," he said genially and tapped the wine coolers together.

Quinn lifted her drink in cheers and downed the liquid eagerly. They settled on the couch and went through the entire ice bucket in one sitting. Puck ran a hand over his Mohawk and surveyed the scattered empty bottles through bleary eyes.

"Shit," he remarked quietly. "That went by quickly."

Quinn laughed and bobbed her head in agreement.

"Tell you what," he offered. "I've gotta piss but, when I get back, I'll take you home."

"Mm-kay," Quinn nodded and leaned against the armrest to play with the lampshade.

He staggered along the hall to the bathroom and walked in to relieve himself, not even bothering to shut the door. With difficulty, he managed to turn on the sink and run his hands under the faucet, although his forearms got terribly wet in the process.

"All right," he said when he finally made it back to the living room. "Ready, Freddie?"

Quinn rose unsteadily and grabbed his shoulder. They made their way outside and headed for the park again.

"Which way's home?" Puck asked.

Quinn swung her arm up and to the left.

"That way."

Puck nodded and wrapped an arm around her waist to catch her in case she stumbled. They walked along the winding park path and tried to avoid the trees. Quinn's crooked steps led her off the trail and she tripped over a root. Without thinking, her foot kicked out and struck the trunk.

"Stupid, hulking tree," she growled. "It broke my freaking foot!"

Puck guffawed and held out a hand for her.

"I think I like the drunk version of you," he decided. "She's feisty."

Quinn glared at him for a moment before smiling.

"Yeah, I guess she is."

After a time, Lima Heights came into view and Quinn heaved a relieved sigh. They tottered toward the Fabrays' residence in the distance, laughing and tripping as they meandered up the street.

"Are your parents home?" Puck slurred. "Should I be making peace with my maker?"

"Doesn't look like it," Quinn replied while she reached among the leaves of the potted plant for the spare key.

They lurched through the door and into the foyer. Puck gave a low whistle.

"Living the life of Riley," he commented.

Quinn shrugged embarrassedly.

"It's okay."

She moved over to the small table against the wall and picked up a note that had been placed there.

"'Quinn, Went to a party at the Tauriellos'. See you later tonight. – Mom," she read aloud just before her ankle gave out and she nearly fell to the floor.

Puck rushed forward and caught her. She smiled thankfully and looked up into his eyes.

"Hey," he murmured and smiled slightly.

"Hello," she mumbled back.

Tentatively, Puck cradled her closer and bent his head to kiss her lips. Quinn sighed and kissed him back. She freed her arms to wrap around his neck as the kiss deepened and they both shuffled toward the stairs.

"Room?" Puck panted as he broke away from her mouth.

Quinn grabbed his hand and falteringly ascended the steps. They reached her bedroom and she shoved the door open. Puck closed it behind them and locked it before following her to the mattress. She tumbled against the pillows and he was on top of her in the blink of an eye.

His mouth found its way to her neck and began sucking the skin passionately. Quinn tried to find him in her peripheral vision. Her heart pounded painfully as she realized what was happening and a few words managed to make it past her lips.

"Say it again," she pleaded.

"You're not fat," he responded reassuringly.

Quinn shut her eyes and held onto his back.

"Do you have anything?"

Puck released his hold on her to pat his pockets. He sighed and hung his head in disappointment.

"No," he admitted finally. "They're in my wallet back home."

Quinn chewed on her lip and grabbed his shoulder fretfully. He abandoned his attentions to her neck in favor of running his hands over her hair and looking into her eyes. She shivered and met his gaze. Puck smiled reassuringly and caressed her face. His mouth lowered to her ear and whispered:

"Trust me."

… … …

Quinn heard Brittany on the stairs moments before a light knock sounded on her bedroom door.

"Psst," hissed the hushed voice, so comforting in its familiarity. "It's me."

She opened the door just wide enough for her friend to slip inside. Then Quinn pushed it back into place and turned the lock.

"I got what you asked me to," Brittany told her. She slipped off her backpack to unzip it and reach for the bag within.

"Thank you," Quinn said as she accepted the long, thin box the other girl handed to her. "I really appreciate you going through that for me."

"It was nothing," her companion shrugged. "It's not the first one I've bought from there, so they weren't exactly surprised to see me."

Brittany tucked a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously. Then she noticed the dry, salty trails down both sides of her friend's face. Without another word, she pulled Quinn in for a tight hug. The frightened teen whimpered and gripped Brittany's shirt in her fists. She sobbed against Brittany's collarbone as the last of her restraint broke in the warmth of the embrace.

"Shh," Brittany whispered while rocking back and forth on her feet. "Everything's going to be okay."

Quinn wanted more than anything to believe her but, at that moment, she could not. In a matter of minutes, her whole life might change forever. Before she could give voice to any of those doubts or fears, Brittany took her by the hand and nodded toward the door and the bathroom in the hall beyond.

"C'mon," she said gently. "Let's go find out what the test says."

… …

Another knock, this time heard from where she sat on the edge of the tub.

"Quinn, can I come in?"

She continued to stare at the stick of plastic in her hand and did not answer.

Again the voice outside spoke in an undertone.

"What does it tell you?"

She opened her mouth but couldn't seem to find her voice.

There was a pause in the questions from the hall and she thought that she heard Brittany walk away. A moment later, the footsteps returned. There was a rattling at the door and then it creaked slowly open. As her friend entered, Quinn saw that she had picked the lock with a quarter from her purse.

"Hey," Brittany said softly.

The still-seated girl couldn't bring herself to meet her companion's gaze.

"Can I see it?" Brittany asked as she pointed to the stick.

Quinn handed it over and rubbed at her burning eyes with the heels of her hands. She sniffled loudly. The other teen walked over to the mirror and held the pregnancy test under the lights above the glass.

"Oh," she whispered quietly when she read the result.

She turned back to the tub only to find that its edge was now empty.

"Quinn?"

From where she stood in the bathroom, the sound of her companion rushing down the steps carried to her ears from the stairwell. Brittany stuck the test in her pocket and raced after her.

"Hey, wait up!" she called as she took the steps two at a time. "You won't want to go outside. It's started raining out there!"

Her friend ignored the girl's warning and allowed her legs to propel her ahead, out the front door and around the house, headed for the trees that bordered the back edge of the Fabrays' property. Brittany followed with her arms crooked at her sides and jogged as she tried to close the gap between them. Quinn ducked under the branches and continued onward. With long strides, she raced into the field of the large estate that stretched out behind the imposing residences of Lima Heights.

At last, her lungs ached and her pace slowed until Quinn dropped to her knees in the grass. Brittany had been right; it was indeed raining. Already, her clothes were soaked through but she scarcely noticed. The clouds rumbled angrily overhead and, as lightning flashed briefly across the sky, she found herself half-expecting it to strike her where she knelt. Another roll of thunder came and Quinn doubled over with her palms pressed hard against her temples and screamed.

The noise from the storm kept her cry from carrying beyond that field but Brittany could hear it as she stood watching from a respectful distance. The sound was manic, bordering on bestial, and it sent a shiver of fear down her spine. Unable to think of anything else to do, she cautiously approached her friend - who was now rocking back and forth - and crouched at her side. She tugged the shaking teen into her arms and they both shivered against the chill as the darkest storm clouds continued to gather along the horizon.