AN: Sorry for the delay. School's a bit crazy this year, so I haven't had much time to write, but I'm still going to continue with the story if you guys want. This chapter's not that long (my standard chapter length seems to be somewhere around 1,000 or so) but right now I'm still kind of setting things up. Again, thank you so much for all the alerts and reviews! I love reading your suggestions, and of course the compliments are nice confidence-boosters! I never really expected people to read my stuff!
"Okay guys, food's ready!" Quinn announced, pulling the pizza out of the oven.
"Yay! I'm starved!" Brittany happily pirouetted into the kitchen, followed by the two brunettes. They all grabbed plates, cups, and soda and brought everything to the living-room area of Quinn's attic-apartment. The blonde head cheerleader set the pizza on the coffee table, and Brittany clapped excitedly.
The dancer's enthusiasm was infectious, and soon they were all happily digging in.
"Quinn, this is delicious! Thank you for taking the time to find and create such a wonderful, vegan-friendly meal. I—and the cows—appreciate it very much." The artist blushed under Rachel's praise.
Brittany beamed and nodded her agreement. "It's so good! And now the cows are happy too! Everything should be vegan!"
"I don't know about all that, but the food isn't as terrible as I expected," Santana added.
Quinn rolled her eyes at this, knowing that her best friend was already polishing off her second slice. The Latina grinned.
When the pizza was gone, Rachel offered to clean up the dishes, insisting, "It's the least I can do, since you made dinner and are allowing us all to stay at your house tonight."
"Just let her do it, Fabray," advised Santana when Quinn protested.
Brittany backed her girlfriend up. "Yeah Quinn, Tana always washes the dishes when we eat together. Besides, the dishwasher is confusing. You have to remember to put soap in, but if you use too much, bubbles get everywhere! That's why when Sanny isn't there, Lord Tubbington does my chores."
The other cheerleaders stared at her, not sure how to react. Rachel took this opportunity to gather their plates, humming to herself as she loaded the dishwasher.
A few minutes later, the singer was joined by her—girlfriend? Friends with benefits? Moment of teenage rebellion and experimentation? What am I to Quinn?
"Girlfriend."
Rachel spun to face the blonde artist. "What?" the brunette sputtered. Did she just read my mind?
"I asked if you wanted to be my…girlfriend," Quinn repeated shyly. "You don't have to say yes. We can just go back to before…" She bit her lip, and it was both the sexiest and cutest thing Rachel had ever seen.
The diva cupped the other girl's cheek and pulled her down for a soft kiss.
This really is an effective way to get me to shut up, the blonde thought.
When they parted, the brunette looked into bright hazel eyes and said firmly, "Quinn Fabray, I would love to be your girlfriend."
They kissed again, this time more deeply, until they heard a throat clear.
"Jesus, Q, get a room! Britt and I were only gone for a minute!" Santana snickered.
Quinn, flushed, snapped, "This is my room! It's not my fault you and Brittany invited yourselves over!"
"You're still almost as bad as Puckerman," the Latina retorted.
Rachel saw her girlfriend's jaw clench, and quickly stepped between the head cheerleaders.
"I didn't ask you to come!" muttered the blonde captain.
Santana scoffed. "Why? Were you planning on doing the nasty with Berry tonight? Baby-gate aside, I thought you were all chaste and innocent and shit."
Thankfully, Brittany broke the tension. She skipped into the room, oblivious to the argument between the best friends.
"Guess what I found in the car!" The blonde dancer held up a DVD case triumphantly. "Step Up! Can we watch it? Pretty please?"
"I don't know, Britt-Britt. Apparently Q doesn't want us here," Santana replied, shooting Quinn a glare.
Brittany's smile turned into a sad pout. "You don't want us? But I thought we were friends?"
Seeing the hurt in the other blonde's face, Quinn's anger dissipated.
"We are friends, Britt. I'm sorry for acting like jerk, and I do want you here. Sure, we can watch Step Up. We can even use the theater downstairs if you want," she offered Brittany.
The smile returned instantly, and the taller blonde tackled Quinn with a hug. The blue-eyed girl then pecked the other blonde on the cheek before grabbing Rachel's hand and leading her down several flights of stairs, chattering about how it was one of the best movies ever.
Santana started to follow them.
"S, wait!" Quinn called.
The Latina turned, arms crossed, but the blonde just stared at the ground.
"Were you going to say something, Q? Or just yell at me some more?" she demanded.
Quinn shuffled her feet. "Yes…no…um…I…"
"Just spit it out already, Fabray!"
"I'm sorry for snapping at you," admitted the hazel-eyed girl. "You are my friend, and I do like hanging out with you."
Santana rolled her eyes. "Oh, I know, Fabray. And I guess I was out of line too. You're not as bad as Puck, and you can do whatever—and whoever—you want."
"No, you were right. Well, sort of," Quinn amended. "Not about the Puck thing. But about the…" she trailed off.
"Sex?" prompted the Latina.
The blonde blushed, but nodded. "Yeah…about the sex. You were right. I'm not as innocent and naïve as I was sophomore year, and I don't necessarily think you have to wait until marriage, but I still want sex to mean something. When I asked Rachel over tonight…I don't know what I was expecting. I wasn't really thinking clearly, and I might've…rushed into something I wasn't ready for."
"Have you talked to Frannie about this?" the other girl asked tentatively.
Quinn shook her head vigorously. "No. It's not important. Besides, Frannie left me for a reason. Why would she care?"
The Latina's brow furrowed. "She left Lima, Q. She left to get away from your dad. She left so she wouldn't have to be around your mom. She didn't leave you. She loves you!"
"She did leave me! When she got on that plane, she didn't take me with her!" Quinn's shoulders sagged. "Look, I don't want to argue about this, okay? Let's not talk about Frannie."
When the other girl opened her mouth to protest, the blonde cut her off.
"Just…thank you, Santana. I'm glad you and Britt insisted on coming here, and thank you for preventing me from doing something I might regret." Quinn finally met her friend's gaze.
Santana's expression was uncharacteristically sympathetic and thoughtful. She looked at her understandingly. "Don't mention it, Fabray. We're partners. Not partners in that euphemism-for-gay-lovers way, but in the real meaning of the word. We understand each other. We're the head bitches. Co-captains. Best friends. Yeah, sometimes we fight, but other than Britt, there's no one I love more."
The Latina wrapped her tanned arms around the blonde, and Quinn squeezed back. Both may or may not have been blinking back tears. And it's possible that Santana's shirt would need to be dried—at least on the shoulder.
"And hey," Santana added, rubbing her best friends back. "If you ever need to talk, I'm here. I know how difficult figuring all this out can be. But for what it's worth, I think Rachel truly does care about you."
Quinn loved this aspect of the badass Latina, and truly appreciated when she let her guard down. The blonde knew that very few people ever saw this side of her best friend.
"Thank you, Santana. I'm sorry for before and…thank you," the artist said when they let go of each other.
Santana grinned and held out her hand. "Come on, Q. Let's go find our girls."