The rest of the day goes on without problems. Mercedes had only called in once to say the crisis had been slightly averted, but the picture still remains. If Quinn wasn't careful, she would be facing Frannie's wrath at going to the public about their family. Not that Frannie would ever out their family's dirty laundry but Quinn wouldn't put it past her sister. After all a Fabray is a Fabray.

But even with the lockdown and the aversion of the press getting ahold of family dirt, Quinn still wishes she were able to go and walk around the city she lived in. She can only walk around her new house so many times before the walls start to become boring and every little thing wrong with the house becomes something just a little bigger.

Her doorbell rings and she hopes it's Tina so she can at least talk to another human being. After getting married, she seemed to have notice the lack of friends that came to her aid. It's like when someone hears the word divorce in Hollywood he or she must be shunned until they learn their lesson. Whatever lesson that may be, Quinn doesn't know. She wonders if it is her own fault that her lack of friends is due in part to her only really hanging around her husband. The parties, the galas, the events and the premieres all had her next to him. It hurts to think about him, the thought that he was her only friend because she had tried her best to avoid attachment with anyone else. She could call the numerous cast and crew she has worked with over the years friends but would she invite them over for a dinner? Probably not. When she really thinks about it, Mercedes, Puck and Tina are her only real constants.

What a sad life she must portray if people see that the only friends she really has are her manager, bodyguard and stylist. The only real people who know her inside out. At least the only real people who know her now. The last being...well, an asshole.

She opens the door in hopes of finding her bubbly stylist, but it surprises her when she sees Santana in a hoodie and sunglasses with bags in her hands. It's ridiculous because the sun is no longer out and the only light that shines are the ones on the street and even those don't warrant sunglasses. Of course if Quinn hadn't known Santana in just about every outfit known on earth, she would have called the police but it's the hair that peeks out from the sides of the hood that give her away. Or maybe it's Santana's figure in unnecessary large clothing. Either way, Quinn is impressed with herself for not closing the door.

"You going to let me in or are we going to keep this staring contest up because I'm going to tell you right now, Q, I play dirty."

Quinn stands aside while Santana rushes in, bags rustling with her movements, "Sorry, I thought maybe you were at the wrong address?"

"Right, because I would ring my own doorbell."

"Kurt might have locked you out?"

"Like I would let that princess run my own house or give him a key for that matter."

The hood drops and Quinn can't help but stare at Santana's natural beauty. How effortless it is for someone to pull off something so simple. No makeup, no hair products, not even a lip gloss. She is reminded of her younger days when she would think the same of her sister. Back when she actually adored Frannie and not hated her.

"Jeez, if I knew I would look that bad without makeup I would have totally touched up a bit." Santana tries to put her hood back on but Quinn is shaking her head in a rush.

"No, no. I'm just jealous is all."

Santana snorts and the sunglasses disappear somewhere into a pocket, "Right says the woman ranked in Sexiest Women in Hollywood."

"Are you kidding me? I'm ranked like 87."

"Are they ranking you from the waist up? Because..." Santana does a lewd action of gazing at Quinn's figure, which is clad in anything but sexy, unless pajama pants and a sweater were the new must haves to make the list.

Quinn swats Santana on the shoulder, a slight blush creeping up onto her cheeks as she does so, "Stop it. What are you even doing here?"

"I heard you went apeshit in a hospital. Went all slapfest with some chick on the fifth floor. Heard you won, too."

"I didn't go apeshit. It was a family feud of sorts. And that 'chick' is my older sister."

Santana shrugs, her hand digging into one of the brown bags and procuring a bottle of wine, "Minor details, either way, I came over to celebrate your win. It's about time you took a badass role, lord knows you are due for one."

Quinn has to smile at the slip because she had never taken Santana to be a person to admit to watching her co-stars movies, "You've watched my movies?"

"Duh. I had to see what kind of person was going to be my love interest. I was actually surprised you took the role with your history of…" Santana pauses and Quinn can tell she is trying her best not to offend, but Santana would not be Santana Lopez if she didn't, "Playing women needing to be defined by men."

"Ouch."

"Hey, your last one with the guy and the pregnancy was super emotional and I see why you got the nom but she went back to him, I find something severely wrong about that. She could have done it without him. He was a loser."

"And she was in love."

"Whatever, point it is, I was super convinced it was going to be awkward and I was glad that you were only going to guest star for like four episodes. But then you walked through the door and blew everyone away with your A+ acting and bottle blonde hair. And-" Santana seems almost taken aback by her own confessions that her voice lowers to nearly a whisper, "And you stayed."

Quinn almost wants to push for more but she knows it would be unkind to make Santana feel uncomfortable, "Got anything stronger than that?" She points to the bottle of red in Santana's grip.

"Does kung pow chicken count?"

It's surprising to Quinn how easy she slips into a friendship with Santana Lopez. For someone who had kept people at a certain distance for most of her acting career, she certainly has no problem having Santana around her. The feeling of having someone around her that isn't Mercedes or Puck, almost foreign but a breath of fresh air. She isn't hearing things about her schedule or what game is going on. She talks instead about the diets that she hates to go on, or the wardrobe that people think she'd wear at events. They laugh at on set stories that have become inside jokes.

They laugh and Quinn doesn't feel so broken for once. They don't talk about her marriage or her family, even though Quinn knows that Santana would listen without judgement if it were brought up. But she also knows that Santana would have a few choice words to add.

The remainder of the red wine is in their glasses. Chinese take out spread out on the carpet in the living room. Quinn remembers other nights she would spend like these but never with chinese take out. Her husband would never order anything so unhealthy. Neither would Mercedes for that matter.

"My trainer is going to kill me for having chinese right now." Quinn is holding a take-out container full of noodles and ordinarily it wouldn't be a problem but it turns into one when there is already an empty container next to her. Even with all the talk about horrible diets and having to keep an image that she herself isn't too fond of keeping, she knows that she will have to hit the gym sometime this week in order to balance her food choices. Because as much as she loves her job, the need to please the world with her body image is by far one of the most uneasy feelings she will ever have. She remembers when she was little and not caring what she ate or what she wore but around the time Frannie had started fat jokes was when her parents had stepped in and told her to watch her diet. She was 10.

"You and me both. " Santana stretches her legs in front of her from her position on the floor. Movements, slow and almost too sensual for Quinn not to stare. The envy grows more than just movements but with body as well. She knows fully well Santana's workout schedule. She remembers catching her at the gym near the lot. She also knows that Santana could eat anything and not gain a single ounce of fat. She knows because she's heard her trainer talk about Santana's trainer not having much to do over different periods of time.

"Please, you could eat an entire food truck's worth of food and still maintain the figure you have now without stepping into a gym."

Santana doesn't miss a beat, "That's because there are other things you can do that don't require a gym." Her eyebrows rising suggestively.

Quinn picks up a fortune cookie from the coffee table and chucks it at Santana's head. She misses completely, which in this situation is a feat with Quinn no more than a few feet away from Santana.

"God, they never chose you to play on teams in school did they?" Santana laughs as she says this, her hands trying to hide her widening smile.

Quinn opens her mouth in shock, "Excuse you, I was in drama." A laugh of her own escapes at the attempt to make her younger self seem cooler than she was, "I didn't need to be on teams."

"Of course you were."

"I did other things too!" Quinn tries her best to defend herself.

"Like what?"

Quinn mutters something underneath her breath and it is so inaudible that Santana has to lean forward hoping for Quinn to repeat it. She doesn't.

"I'm sorry what was that?"

"Cheerleading."

Santana's eyebrows shoot up and not in surprise or shock but in interest.

"I can picture that, Q. Short skirt, high ponytail, spanks-"

Quinn chuckles to herself because she wishes she could see the picture painted in Santana's mind. She wishes this because she knows it is no where near the reality.

"I only made it because my sister was captain the year I tried out. And I wasn't all good, I can't do a cartwheel to save my life. By the second week of fumbling my way through routines," The memory still fresh in Quinn's mind as she relives it, "My sister handed me my uniform for the year. I wish I could say it was sexy but there is only so much you can do with the school mascot uniform that they never washed."

If the story makes Santana uncomfortable, she doesn't show it.

"Well that explains why you had the guts to slap her."

"Oh you know, good ole sibling rivalry." It's a joke but Santana shakes her head.

"I wouldn't know, actually. Only child."

"Of course you were." Quinn smiles thinking of a life she only wishes she had, "Birthdays and Christmas must have been amazing for you."

"If being alone for most of them counts as amazing, then sure, I guess it was amazing." Quinn frowns at Santana's admission. The mood shifting quickly by the tone of Santana's voice and the way her brown eyes cast down, "My parents weren't around much and my grandmother hated having me near her, sometimes I wish I had sibling just so I could talk to someone."

"And now look at us-"

"Still having sibling fights and my grandmother still hates me. I think we're doing great." The joke lightens the mood. Both of them smiling at each other's predicament.

"If it makes you feel any better, my teenage mascot self would have talked to you."

"And that's really sweet, Q, but highschool me was the biggest bitch ever. I would have given your sister a run for her money and her captaincy."

"You were a cheerleader?"

"National Champions three times in a row." There is a sense of pride in Santana's voice that Quinn has never heard before. Quinn wonders if she could ever have that kind of pride in her younger self. She wishes she could but she knows she hated her younger years as much as she hated her family.

"Do you still know the choreo?"

Santana smirks with the tilt of her head, "Why? Want me to dance for you?"

Quinn reddens quickly at the implications of her words and has to look away, "No, I-I just. I was genuinely curious is all. I wasn't-" She gets tongue tied and her mind can't keep up with what words are being vomited out of her mouth. She honestly hadn't meant for it to sound so suggestive. She should have known that Santana would gone for the window. "I was going to say it would make uhm sense that-that you did with that one scene...you did."

It's pathetic and if it weren't for the fact that she was already embarrassed she would face palm herself.

"Half naked with you for almost a whole season and this is when you turn red."

"Hush." Quinn can feel her cheeks burn and the wine isn't helping, "I didn't mean for it to sound so suggestive."

Santana laughs this time. A full laugh, the kind that has her hands around her stomach while she tries not to fall over. All the while Quinn tries to hide herself behind her hands. Who knew that after everything Quinn has endured in the past 36 hours, all it would take to make it better was cheap wine and chinese take out. And, of course, Santana Lopez.

In the midst of their laughing, a thought comes to mind.

"You should come to the premiere."

Santana has a few more chuckles before settling down, her eyes locking with Quinn's, "You're serious?"

"Why not? You can tell me what you think of my latest role."

"This isn't you asking for a personal cheerleader?"

Quinn smiles as she stands from her place on the carpet, her hands grabbing the empty glasses of wine. Her feet pad on the hardwood floor towards the kitchen. She is out of sight and all Santana can hear are the sounds resembling a bottle being opened. It is then that Quinn's voice carries into the living room.

"I'd only ask you if you still had the uniform."

Surprisingly enough, both girls' respective managers agree to the invitation. Mercedes giving the okay the night Quinn had asked. Kurt took a couple more hours but eventually said yes. Their first night of wine and takeout had been unplanned, yet a success. A story that Mercedes had heard through the grapevine or, rather, Tina had heard. And a conversation that Quinn had to sit through her morning coffee for. It was only after Quinn had convinced her disgruntled manager that both girls had stayed away from the press and the media did Mercedes concede.

All in all, after the events at the hospital, Quinn had thought she might have gotten away for once. It wasn't true of course because she had gone to see her mother again the next day only to have Frannie come in five minutes later. Her mother's attention completely diverted to Frannie's slightly swollen cheek. Quinn no longer a figure of interest in the room.

Frannie always was the favourite.

It didn't matter of course, no matter how much Quinn wanted it to matter. She knew that her mother would never see her the way she would want anyone in her family to see her as. Successful. Driven. Talented. A daughter to be proud of. No, that is all Frannie and god did she make it known.

She didn't stay long after Frannie's arrival. She figured she would avoid another fight by just leaving. Not that either family member would care or notice. This is what happens of course, when Quinn chooses her career over family. Not that it was much of a decision but she knows she could have made an effort earlier on. She didn't and it's why she can't be angry. She chose to have her family hate her. What else was new?

"You look sick. You sick?" Mercedes has hand on Quinn's back and it's cold. And It's enough for Quinn to shiver out of her memories and remember she is on her way to another premiere.

"I'm fine. I'm just tired." It isn't untrue, but it certainly isn't the entire reason either.

"Well you better untired yourself. I got enough to worry about, I don't need you to be passing out on the damn red carpet."

"I'm fine, Mercedes. I just didn't sleep much last night."

"Oh, I know. I was right next to you and your new best friend looking at dresses for this damn premiere. I don't know why you chose to go with a different dress at the last minute. Probably got the idea from Santana if I didn't know any better. Couple of teenagers getting ready for prom is what you two looked like last night."

It's true.

And even though Quinn almost feels like she is being told off by a parent, she doesn't really mind. Because it was this kind of parenting that her mother never had the 'time' for when it came to Quinn's time in school. It's ridiculous to think Mercedes as her 'mother' when in reality Mercedes is no older than Quinn, but there are many times Quinn can't help but feel it. Maybe it's because Mercedes comes from a loving family, that she can't help but be motherly to everyone else, or maybe Quinn is in that bad of a need of a mother figure in her life that Mercedes has no choice but to step up. Whatever the reason, Quinn doesn't care.

"It's a damn miracle you two didn't pick the same damn colour."

"Merce-."

"I know. I know. I said okay to her coming. I didn't know it meant I would have to spend most of my weekday nights listening to you two giggle like a bunch of highschoolers every two seconds. Gonna lose my damn mind with all the giggling and whispering. You both lucky I ain't my momma because I sure as hell would have told y'all to shut up."

The car pulls up to the event parking area and Quinn is near tears with Mercedes' rant, "You did tell us to shut up, though."

Mercedes drops her mouth open as Puck opens the door. Thankfully, Mercedes is too far into the car to be photographed and Quinn has her back facing the photographers. They stare at each other no more than a couple milliseconds before Mercedes is rushing her out of the SUV, "Get out the damn car before these photographers have an aneurism." Quinn laughs and struggles with the tail end of the dress but with the help of Tina, she is free to move by the time she takes her first step out, "Too busy talking back, look at chu can't even get out the damn car."

She is still laughing by the time she can fully stand. The dress trailing effortlessly behind her as she begins her walk down the line. A few other actors already talking to various people and posing for photographs. She spots Cooper in the distance, his gelled to perfection hair a beacon to anyone looking for him. He notices her too and waves, Quinn can hear the fans' excitement as he walks towards her. The cheers and screams drowning even that of the photographers asking for a pose.

"Grace Kelly!" Quinn tries not to roll her eyes at the nickname. She doesn't feel worthy of it, but he chose it the moment he saw her. She hasn't gotten him to drop it since. Or her for that matter because he has his arms around her and he is twirling her. He gives the photographers a show, that's for certain. But the dramatic display of affection is enough to have Mercedes clear her throat and glare at Cooper.

A small whisper with words resembling close to 'you better put her down' coming from behind Mercedes' smile.

Cooper doesn't push his luck and has Quinn set on her own two feet in no time. His eyes sending a silent apology to Mercedes before posing appropriately with Quinn.

"Why do I get the feeling your manager hates me."

"She's just protective."

Cooper doesn't disagree and moves them down the carpet, "I hear you brought a date."

"You heard wrong." Their tones low and behind wide smiles. A talent they had both mastered on set and in front of cameras. Sometimes to make jokes, other times to catch up without anybody really listening.

"Really? I hear a certain brunette is here and under your guest list." He holds her close for a crowd of photographers, an arm around her waist.

"And why are you so interested?" She puts a hand on his chest and she can hear the fans go wild.

"It's not every day Quinn Fabray brings someone to a premiere." He steps away with a smile, his hands taking hers, "I'm expecting an introduction later."

Cooper waves to the crowd before stepping away towards his own manager who is ushering him toward an on carpet interview. One that Mercedes shakes her head at when Quinn silently asks if she, too, should join.

It isn't long before fans are yelling and photographers are begging for a picture, but it isn't her they are pleading with. She turns her head toward the beginning of the carpet and she can't help the smile that reaches her eyes. In the distance a figure steps out of a vehicle. The hair just like they had agreed on, the dress ten times better than Quinn would have imagined now that Santana was actually in it, and everything else perfect.

Quinn takes a step but hears disagreement from Mercedes behind her.

"You better not, Quinn Fabray. You can talk all you want later." It isn't loud but the warning is clear. Quinn agreed to play by the rules of her manager with the invitation. Stepping out of line would only mean for Mercedes to tell her it was all a bad idea.

An idea comes to mind as a microphone is waving at her from the crowd of photographers and reporters. The logo, a good sign she knows she won't be reprimanded for choosing to speak with them.

"Quinn?" Mercedes is behind her but can't stop the words that come out of Quinn's mouth.

"I thought that was you, Alex!" Quinn is shaking hands and smiling, all the while keeping an eye on Santana's progress down the carpet, "I saw you through the crowd and I thought, I owe you a small Q&A."

The reporter doesn't look a day over 25 and is clearly shocked at a celebrity's memory of them. So shocked that the 'interview' is mostly Quinn giving a long winded answer to a question about the movie. Mercedes feels a presence next her, thinking it is the next group of actors in line for an interview but is surprised to see an equally disgruntled Kurt take place at her side.

"You got played." Is all he says, arms crossed and features set with no indication of malice toward her, unlike their previous encounters.

Mercedes looks at the distance between the two actresses and realization hits. Her eyes begin to narrow and her lips purse. She should have known Quinn would try something to bend the rules they had set. If she wasn't mad, she would be impressed at Quinn's on spot thinking.

Kurt and Mercedes watch silently as the girls dramatically act like they didn't plan on walking the carpet together. Their voices just loud enough for everyone around them hear. Both managers have to fight the urge to roll their eyes when Quinn talks just a little too sweet for the cameras and while Santana nods and agrees to whatever it is.

It's a show.

A show that fans love and the cameras adore. A show that Mercedes had tried to avoid but can't be upset at. No one is asking vulgar things, no one is asking about the marriage or the hospital incident. If anything, the little show makes her job a little easier when dealing with celebrity news.

"Don't worry, they won't try anything stupid. I have Santana's entire collection of Amy Winehouse CD's held hostage. She knows better." Kurt smiles as he says this, waving at Santana when she gives him a look.

"And I told Quinn I'd throw away all the bacon in the house."

"Really? Bacon?"

"Oh, boy, you don't know? Girl is like a baby dinosaur when it comes down to it. She'd be a damn fool to try something."

A few more cheers at the beginning of the carpet indicate the girls needing to move on so both managers take their respective 'children' and guide them farther down. Kurt and Mercedes making sure to have them stop at different reporters and never in the same interview.

The girls keep to their word, for the most part. They don't paint a picture for the press any different than just friends which is a relief for Mercedes. It had been her biggest concern when the invitation was presented to her. But after the moment on the carpet, Quinn had stayed in line. So in line that she had asked Mercedes about the after party. An answer Quinn had been expecting to be a flat out 'no' but after a little huddle between Mercedes and Kurt, both managers came out with the agreement that the girls could attend.

In a way, it had felt like Quinn had been asking permission to prom itself. Santana, of course, has joked about the two managers being paranoid over the silliest of things, but Quinn had managed to keep most of Santana's comments at bay.

Considering Quinn had not finished the last after party, she had wanted to make sure to make this one.

"Okay, seriously, the fact that we have to ask to go to a party? Who do they think we are?"

"They're being careful. Let them. We pay them for this."

"You would think they would at least dress better. For the amount I pay Kurt, he still dresses like he's on the Broadway a revival of Rent."

Quinn ignores Santana's commentary and begins to look around the party. Her eyes searching for a perfectly gelled head of hair. When she doesn't find Cooper in the throng of people mingling together, she turns her attention back to Santana who is bickering with Kurt about their deal. The deal, of course, meaning the situation with Kurt keeping Santana's Amy Winehouse CD's hostage in the trunk of his car.

"I want those back on the wall, Lady Lips, or so help me god I will go Naomi Campbell on your ass." Quinn witnesses a sharp elbow to Kurt's ribs and the boy can only glare.

A set of hands find themselves on Quinn's hips and she is being turned around to face bright blue eyes and a drunken smile.

"GRACE KELLY!"

The nickname doesn't go unnoticed by Kurt or Santana who watch the interaction with interest. Both forgetting their squabble, for the moment.

"Coop, again with the nickname." He smiles and it's charming, but Quinn knows better, "Why are you always drunk at these before I am?"

"How else do I deal with everyone? Open bar, Quinn. Live a little." He gives her hips a light squeeze before letting her go. His eyes glazed over but with the dim lighting not many could probably tell. "And you must be the famous Santana Lopez!"

Santana extends her arm to shake his hand, but he is already hugging her and Quinn doesn't have the time to explain boundaries because it's Cooper Anderson and Cooper Anderson is as good with boundaries as a curious child.

To Santana's credit, she doesn't push him away, if anything, she stares at him with shock but replaces it with a smile so fake it makes Quinn wince.

"Well, I don't know about famous, but-"

"Oh, but you are! But don't mind those nasty rumours. They go away eventually. If mine can, so can yours. At least you guys are pretty to look at when it comes to paparazzi photos. They always seem to catch me coming out a grocery store or something on a day off when I'm hungover. While you two, come out of a grocery store looking like models."

Quinn has to look over at Mercedes to clarify and all her manager can do is shake her head. The confusion lies with whether or not Mercedes is shaking her head at the fact that Cooper is drunk and saying this or if Mercedes is silently telling her to not worry about it.

"It's amazing how they come up with that stuff, though, right? You go to the store to buy food and all of a sudden people think you are in some horrid love affair and it's been going for months. Media right?"

Someone is calling Cooper in the distance and he is stepping away with a smile.

"What the hell is white collar talking about?" Santana whips her head to Kurt who is has his phone out and searching. Mercedes is doing the same but waves it off seconds later.

"It's just people spinning your grocery shopping adventures out of proportion. It'll die down."

"Out of proportion? Some people are calling Quinn-"

Mercedes sends a glare to Kurt and he shuts up.

"Calling me what?"

Santana, impressively and magically, has her own cellphone out. Where said cellphone had come from is (and should probably remain) a mystery, but Quinn can't help but take a look at Santana's dress. Her mind wondering about all the hiding spots the phone possibly could have been concealed. And there aren't many.

"Well Perez is calling you a 'liar and a hypocrite' and me a 'homewrecker'. Which I'm mad that they could only come up with that kind of statement. Whatever happened to the good shit?"

Kurt stays silent as Mercedes rolls her eyes, "It'll die down."

"But, hey, look, Q. They say I'm your secret lover." Santana rolls the 'r' at the end with a wink and Quinn can only push her lightly. "Hey, careful with the goods."

Hands make a lewd act of holding breasts but Kurt is quickly grabbing at Santana's hands and bringing them down like a pestering mother.

There is so much more I would like to share but I feel like I am not doing anything right. I don't know the entertainment world very well so please excuse any inadequacies in this story. There are many...=/