AN: Hey, I wrote the first half of this a week before I wrote the second, so sorry if it sounds a bit disjointed. Also, I was in a weird mood when I wrote this chapter, so the writing style might be different. I don't have a beta, so I don't know. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, but the next one should have some important events.
AN2: As always, thank you so much for the reviews and alerts. Hearing from you guys makes me smile and really appreciate it. It definitely encourages me to write more, and I hope you guys are enjoying the story.
Rachel followed Brittany through the sprawling mansion, praying that the blonde knew what she was doing, especially since she hadn't bothered to turn on any lights. It seemed like they would never reach their destination, when suddenly Brittany stopped and flipped a switched. When the brunette blinked the spots out of her vision, she realized they were in a private theater, complete with three rows of theater seats in addition to a few sofas against the side walls. In the front of the room was a small stage, and above it was a projector screen.
The diva gaped. This is even nicer than my own basement, she marveled. "Brittany, is this really Quinn's?"
The dancer looked up from where she was setting up the projector. "Yeah, it's all hers, now. It used to be Frannie's too, but…" Brittany shrugged and went back to her task.
Rachel frowned. "Who's Frannie?"
"Q's sister."
"What happened to her?"
The tall blonde fidgeted uncomfortably under the brunette's gaze. "I can't tell you," she admitted.
The diva did not like that answer. "Why can't you tell me, Brittany? What happened?"
"Quinn should be the one to tell you," Brittany insisted.
"Tell her what?" asked the hazel-eyed blonde as she and Santana came down the stairs.
"Oh, nothing," replied the petite brunette.
To Rachel's relief, it appeared that the best friends had made up. The singer liked seeing her girlfriend—girlfriend!—happy, and didn't want to ruin the mood by bringing up a potentially painful topic, so she resolved to find out about Frannie at a later time.
Quinn merely grinned and pecked Rachel on the cheek. Santana did the same to Brittany.
"So, is the movie ready?" inquired the Latina, one arm slung across her girlfriend's waist.
Brittany nodded. "Yup, we're good to go."
"Hang on a second, let me make some popcorn first," Quinn suggested. Rachel turned and realized that the back of the room had an old-fashioned popcorn cart, fridge, and fully stocked concession stand.
"Don't let the flies in, Berry," teased Santana, as the other girl continued to gape at this display of the Fabray's wealth. The diva promptly shut her mouth, but instead of getting embarrassed, she just laughed along, seeing the lightheartedness in the Latina's eyes. This must be Santana's way of showing affection. She does something similar with Quinn, and most of the people in Glee club other than Finn.
"You alright there, Baby Streisand?" Santana asked, raising an eyebrow at the singer. Why the hell is Berry smiling so much?
Rachel was beaming. "I'm perfectly alright, Santana. I'm just absorbing the fact that I'm actually spending Friday night here, with the three most popular girls in our school. I'm not covered in slushies, and while you still have yet to call me Rachel, at least you have refrained from the more insulting nicknames."
Hearing this, the Latina actually looked apologetic. "Yeah…about that. You know, the slushies and nicknames and stuff…it was stupid. Q and I will put the word out that you're off-limits from now on."
The diva's smile got impossibly wider at this, and with a nudge from Brittany, Santana added, "And I'm sorry for treating you like crap…Rachel."
Quinn almost snorted when she returned from the popcorn machine to see Rachel hugging Santana enthusiastically. The latter looked like a deer in headlights, awkwardly patting the shorter girl on the back. Quinn did snort when Brittany wrapped her arms around the both of them and somehow managed to lift them off the ground briefly. Apparently dance had given Britt crazy amounts of strength in her lean body.
"Hey, don't break my girlfriend, B. I need her in one piece!" the shorter blonde joked as she rejoined her friends, a tub of popcorn in each hand. Brittany set the other girls down and tackled Quinn in hug instead, spinning her around. Blonde hair and popcorn flew everywhere as the artist's shrieks were drowned out by the dancer's laughter.
Santana rolled her eyes playfully, smiling at their familiar antics. Nothing would ever beat that feeling of complete warmth that the Latina got every time she and Brittany were in bed—not having sex, just holding each other—and Brittany said, "I love you," but watching the love of her life and her best friend laugh together was a close second. They were currently partaking in a ridiculous popcorn fight, chasing each other around the basement. Still, Santana tore her eyes away from the blondes to glance at Rachel, and her eyes widened.
Holy shit. I know that look, Santana realized with a start. No one looks at someone like that unless they're at least starting to fall. And I know Q is seriously into Rachel...God, Berry better not be screwing with Quinn's head…
Feeling eyes on her, Rachel turned and met the Latina's stare. Her cheeks may have reddened slightly under the intensity, but the diva refused to look away. There was a challenge, almost, in that gaze, as if the cheerleader were searching for something.
After a moment, Santana nodded, breaking the tension, and Rachel couldn't help but feel that she had just passed some sort of test.
The Latina smirked to herself. Maybe something good is finally going to happen to Quinn. Maybe…maybe Rachel Berry will actually counter the head-fuck that is the Fabray family.
Several hours later, the four girls stretched and yawned as the movie credits played. Blinking as someone—Quinn, maybe?—flicked on the lights, all four surveyed the damage. Popcorn was strewn across the floor, pillows were thrown haphazardly, and there was a stain where Brittany had spilled her Coke when she had gotten up to dance during the movie. Even Rachel was impressed by the fact that the blonde knew every bit of choreography.
Santana ran a hand through her hair. "Uh, Q, do we need to…?" she asked, motioning to the mess.
Quinn shrugged. "Nah, we can always get it in the morning. I'm too tired to worry about it right now."
Brittany and Santana both covered Rachel's mouth when she tried to protest, earning a soft chuckle from Quinn, who extracted her girlfriend from her best friends' grip and placated her with a kiss on the forehead.
All four shuffled upstairs in the dark, trying to be stealthy and therefore managing to crash into what Santana was fairly certain was every single piece of furniture in the entire house. By the time they staggered into Quinn's little apartment, they were all thoroughly awake once more, and everyone but Brittany was nursing an injury of some sort. The ever-graceful dancer offered to get ice for her friends.
"I still don't get how you managed to hit your nose," said Santana incredulously as she rubbed her foot.
Rachel flushed. "I…I'm not entirely sure. I think I ran into you when you stubbed your toe, and then I fell backward and tripped and…" The diva trailed off as the head cheerleaders cracked up, Quinn holding her side gingerly because she had hit her ribs on their trek through the mansion.
The tiny brunette glared at the two of them, pausing only to thank Brittany for the ice. Quinn, seeing the pout on her girlfriend's face, tried to control her laughter.
"Aw, come on Rach, don't sulk [giggle]. We're not laughing at you [giggle]! Besides [giggle] you have to admit [giggle] it's kinda funny." Quinn and Santana glanced at each other and dissolved into giggles again.
"I don't find it funny in the least, Quinn Fabray. It is quite embarrassing, and I had thought that you would no longer make fun of me and my hideous nose and stupid face..." Rachel's voice broke off, causing the cheerleaders to sober instantly.
"Rachel, what are you talking about?" Quinn asked, stunned.
The brunette sniffed. "I know very well how ugly my nose is, Quinn. Finn and Puck tolerated it, at best. I know I'm not nearly as pretty as you; I know you are worthy of someone so much better. I didn't expect you to lie and tell me I was pretty, but I had hoped that you would at least refrain from mentioning my looks."
Quinn thought her heart broke when she saw a tear escape Rachel's eye.
"You are pretty, Rachel," she insisted, cupping her cheek and forcing the Jewish girl to look her in the eye. "You are beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, radiant, luminescent…"
"Totally hot," Brittany suggested.
Quinn nodded. "That too. Listen to me, Rachel Barbara Berry: You are the prettiest girl I have ever met. Don't ever think anything about you could be ugly."
Rachel gulped. "Do you really think that?" she whispered, unsure.
Quinn leaned down and kissed her softly but firmly. "I do," confirmed the artist-cheerleader.
The diva smiled weakly at this, but had to ask, "So then, if you weren't laughing at the way I look…why were you laughing?"
"We were laughing at the situation, Berry. I mean, you flipped over backwards and somehow hit your nose. I hit the same toe three times. Quinn hit her ribs when she knocked over a coatrack, and we didn't even know she had a coatrack. We're all a mess!" Santana explained, gesturing to them each in turn.
"Except for Britt," Quinn noted. Suddenly, everything seemed hilarious again, though this time, all four girls ended up clutching their sides and each other, gasping for breath as they reveled in the joy of being a little ridiculous with people they loved.
Sometime after they had calmed down enough to change into pajamas, the girls pushed aside the coffee table and set up their sleeping bags on Quinn's floor. They stayed up a few more hours, talking the way girls do during sleepovers. Something about the darkness, and probably also the sleep deprivation, made it easier to share things. They didn't give their entire life stories or anything, and not all the conversation was serious, but that wasn't necessary. And though the girls had started out at right angles from each other, by morning they were all overlapping; Quinn's arm was around Rachel's waist and Santana's face was nestled into Brittany's neck and Britt's legs overlapped with Quinn's and it was hard to tell what limbs belonged to which person.
AN3: Do you guys think I need a beta? I try to catch typos and such, but I don't know if I get them all. Is the story ok as-is?