A/N: Oh, hello. Long time, no see.
Does anybody still even care about this? *crickets* Well, I do, so here we are.
It's been almost a year. How ridiculous. But I take a long time to write because I'm a perfectionist and I get very sidetracked and life. Quite a number of times (all the time), my characters decide to run off and join the circus. And where the characters go, you follow.
(They didn't literally join the circus, to clarify, all right.)
She stood in front of the entrance to William McKinley High School on the morning of her first day of freshman year, staring at the place she would hopefully run for the next four years of her life. She'd been standing in the same place, her eyes flicking from window to window, letting the chipping paint, the dirty glass, and the slightly overgrown shrubbery sink in.
This had to be hers.
Or rather, it had to be Quinn's.
She hadn't been Quinn for long. Two months or so at the most. She didn't know who Quinn was. But whoever she was, Quinn wasn't who she wanted to be.
But Quinn was who she needed to be. And all she knew about her was what she needed to be.
She didn't want this, this school, to be Quinn, any of it.
But she needed it.
Because she couldn't be that girl anymore. She couldn't be the girl she was just a few months ago. The girl who had no friends, who no one would even get close enough to to be lab partners with, who more people knew the demeaning nicknames of than her actual name. The girl who could feel the disgust radiating off of anyone that looked in her direction.
She squeezed her eyes shut and took three deep breaths. "Hold it together, hold it together."
She hated that girl. She hated her. She was repulsive and ugly, and she hated her.
Everyone else did, so why shouldn't she?
It's not like she was kind. It's not like she would have done anything for anyone. It's not like she was generous. It's not like she wasn't caring, loving, and good.
It didn't matter that she was any of those things. Because she was never given the chance to show anyone who she really was.
She could be that person now. Now that her outsides finally matched her insides. She was beautiful and she knew it.
But being a beautiful person on this inside would never get her where she needed to be.
She couldn't be who she used to be.
She had to be the exact opposite of that girl she hated so much.
Suddenly she was jolted from her thoughts as someone slammed right into her from the back and her books dropped to the ground. Her first instinct was to apologize, regardless of the fact that she wasn't at fault, but she caught herself, remembering that Quinn Fabray didn't do that. "Oh my god, watch where you're going much?" She bent down to pick up her books, not even bothering to see who she was talking to. "Do you see what you just did?"
"Oh, oh my goodness. I apologize," a small brunette girl replied, walking to the left side of the entryway to gather two of Quinn's notebooks that had slid across the floor. "It- it's my first day. I'm just rather nervous. It was an accident. I'm really very sorry."
Quinn forced a loud sigh as she picked up the last book that had landed next to her. "It's my first day too and you don't see me running into anybody, do you?" She stood up as she saw the girl facing the other direction, picking up the second of the two books.
"Well, there's no one else around to run into," she said as she stood up. "There are still 45 minutes left until school even starts. I'm sure most of the campus is deserted. There probably aren't even that many teachers here yet." She turned around before continuing, walking towards Quinn holding out her books. "I'd say your chances of running into someone are actually very slim."
Quinn opened her mouth to make a smart comment back, but shut it as soon as she made eye contact with the girl.
Because in that moment, everything changed.
She completely lost track of where she was and what she was doing. All thoughts of the girl she used to be and the girl she needed to be disappeared and were replaced with this girl.
All of a sudden, nothing mattered to her. Not the school, not her parents, nothing. Only her.
She felt things she didn't even know she could feel. A million things at once, exploding in every direction.
All sorts of emotions she didn't even know she had came rushing to the surface, burning her as they pushed to get out.
All the walls that she'd worked so hard to build up, making herself virtually impenetrable, came crashing down around her.
All because of the girl standing in front of her.
She knew in that moment, that there was something different about this girl. That there would always be something different about this girl.
Finally, the silence was broken by the girl as she tilted her head, smiling. "Would you like me to carry your books, or are you going to take them?" She gave Quinn a small smile as she lifted the books up in the air a bit, gesturing towards them with a nod of her head. She laughed lightly.
Quinn didn't know how long she had been standing there, and she panicked at the sound of the girl's voice. She was shaken from her thoughts by it, and it resonated in her head, echoing over and over again as her thoughts kept multiplying, and becoming more and more overwhelming. The thoughts that she'd been trying to ignore for years already were being made into nothing compared to what she was feeling right now.
This girl…this girl, who had been in her life for no more than five minutes…had completely flipped her world upside down.
If she thought she knew nothing before. She really knew nothing now.
This could not be happening to her.
Quinn Fabray could not care about this girl.
Quinn Fabray could not feel this way about a girl.
Quinn Fabray could not feel this way about this girl.
She couldn't.
She would be disowned.
Her reputation.
Her home.
Her life.
Her everything.
Gone.
Quinn quickly reached out and yanked the books from the girl's arms. "No, I do not want you to carry my books," she said with much more anger than she'd intended.
The girl dropped her arms to her sides, clearly startled by the emotion behind Quinn's voice. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. I was only joking. You don't have to be upset."
Quinn forced herself to glare at the girl. "What is your name?"
"Rachel Berry," the girl answered quietly.
Quinn inhaled sharply, swallowing her emotions, burying everything that had just come to the surface. She made a promise to herself that moment that she would never allow these feelings to come out in the open and she would never admit to anyone she felt the way she did for Rachel Berry. These feelings would be locked away with the girl she used to be. She put up her best bitch front as she pushed the final of her thoughts away. "Well, I suggest you forget this interaction ever happened," she snapped. "Do you know what a slushee facial is?"
Rachel looked taken aback from the forcefulness in Quinn's voice. "No…"
"You'll find out soon enough," she said sharply, before stealing a quick glance at Rachel's tiny hands balled up in nervous fists at her sides. Her eyes shot up again. "Now run along Man Hands, before I personally deliver one to you myself." She lifted her eyebrow at Rachel, and gave her one last hard look before she walked up to the door to the school, yanking it open, and walking through it and away as fast as she could, trying everything to keep the emotions that were trying to bubble over down and her tears in as she did.
Quinn Fabray could not love this girl.
But she did.
Santana sat at the foot of Quinn's bed, huffing out of annoyance as she looked up to see Quinn unmoving. She rolled her eyes. "What is taking you so long to call her?"
Quinn continued to stare at her phone for a few moments before looking up, slight sadness in her eyes. "I- I was thinking about…some things."
"Well, stop it," Santana replied sharply. "It probably had something to do with Berry. So, turn your thoughts into actions and call. I don't have all summer to wait for you, so come. on." She waved her hand in a 'speed it up' fashion.
Quinn remained silent for a few moments before speaking. "I was thinking about the day I met her." She looked up to see if Santana would object, but Santana only looked down and began filing her nails. Quinn took that as a go ahead and began to tell the story of that first meeting, with the exception of what happened after she walked away from Rachel. Because she wasn't ready for anyone to know quite how much of an effect Rachel Berry had on her.
Santana didn't look up from what she was doing when she answered. "That was an interesting story, Q. Who knew you literally smacked into the love of your life," she commented sarcastically. "Now, just friggin' call. You're aggravating me."
Quinn scrunched her eyebrows together as she looked down at her phone. "What if she doesn't answer?"
"She will," Santana replied, not looking up.
Quinn unlocked her phone and stared at the contact that was open. "What if she hangs up on me?"
"She won't," Santana responded, again not looking up.
Quinn allowed her index finger to hover over the screen. "What if-"
"Just shut it, Fabray," Santana snapped as she jerked her head up to look at Quinn. "Why are you so nervous?"
Quinn exhaled loudly, dropping her shoulders. "Because, Santana, this is real. This matters. And I don't want to mess it up."
Santana rolled her eyes. "You're not going to mess up. And if you do, look at all the times she's forgiven Finnsey."
"But I don't want to be like Finn," Quinn said, her voice elevating. She paused, and continued more softly. "I want to be different for her."
Santana nodded once in understanding. "Okay. Look. You spent the last three years torturing the poor girl relentlessly. And despite that, she still wants to be your friend." Quinn went to speak but Santana put a hand up to stop her. "And don't tell me you can't see that either. Hello, prom. Anyway, that's without you even trying. Just imagine what it will be like if you actually put a little effort into it."
"How do I even have her number?" Quinn asked, obviously not paying attention to anything Santana was saying.
"Por el amor dedios!" Santana exclaimed as she slammed her file down and climbed up to the top of the bed.
"Don't speak Spanish at me!" Quinn sputtered, pushing her back up against her pillows away from Santana, who was now on her knees right in front of Quinn. "What are you-"
"Give me that damn phone." Santana jerked the phone from Quinn's hand, pushed the call button, and put it on speaker. "See? That wasn't difficult." She smiled as she handed the phone back to Quinn, and fell back onto her butt towards the end of the bed.
As it began ringing, she looked down at the screen of the phone in her slightly shaking hands, back up to Santana with wide eyes, and mouthed, "What did you do?!"
Santana rolled her eyes, rolled onto her back on the bed, and went back to filing her nails. Quinn sat up against the pillows trying not to move as the phone continued to ring. It rang six times when the familiar voice rang through Quinn's bedroom.
"Hello! You have reached the voicemail of Rachel Berry! I apologize I was unable to answer your call! If you leave your name, number, the time and date that you called, and a brief message, I will get back to you at my earliest convenience. Have a 'Berry' wonderful day!"
Quinn froze.
Suddenly the girl who had stood in front of the school with Rachel Berry a little less than four years ago came rushing to the surface. She showed up nearly every time there was any interaction with Rachel. There hadn't been many times Quinn had let herself come in contact with Rachel, but every time, try as she might, she could never cover that girl up completely.
Not with her.
It was like Rachel knew who she really was. She saw the girl underneath the at-one-time president of the celibacy club and captain of the Cheerios, whose biggest goal was to be prom queen, to be the most popular girl in the school, the HBIC. Everyone else saw Quinn, but not Rachel.
Rachel saw the real Quinn, who wasn't even really Quinn at all.
Quinn looked down at the phone again, up to Santana, who was gesturing with her hand for Quinn to talk, and back down to the phone, which now read 0:39 seconds into the call.
Quinn did the only thing she could think of and hung up.
"Damnit, Q," Santana said, slamming her hand holding the file down on the bed out of annoyance. "What the hell just happened?"
Quinn silently shrugged.
Santana rolled her eyes. "You are ridiculous." She looked back down to her fingernails, observing her right ring finger closely before dropping her hand back down and looking up at Quinn once more. "I don't like what this girl does to you. One day you're happy and like planning your wedding with her, and the next you're nervous about calling her. Let me let you in on a little secret, Quinn. You're not going to marry the girl if you can't even make a damn phone call!"
"Excuse me that I am not used to feeling anything, Santana!" Quinn snapped. "Excuse me that this is important to me! Excuse me, that for once, just once, I'd really, really like to not mess something up in my life!"
"IT'S TIME TO TRY DEFYING GRAVITY!"
Quinn was so startled by how loud the song coming from the phone was and the vibration against her palm that she nearly flung the device right out of her hand. She looked down as she gripped it tighter to see one of her favorite pictures of Rachel looking back at her. It was Rachel's sophomore yearbook picture. She had on the light blue dress with the ruffles on her shoulders, and the very top of her hair loosely pulled back, with a huge smile on her face.
"I THINK I'LL TRY DEFYING GRAVITY!"
"Answer that phone, Fabray. Right. now," Santana hissed.
Quinn didn't look up, but continued to look at the picture of Rachel as her thumb hovered for a moment over the little green phone that would answer the call, before she pressed down, per Santana's "request", she put it on speaker. She brought it up closer to her mouth as she took a deep breath in and out before speaking. "Hello?"
"Yes, hello. This is Rachel Berry. Someone called me from this number?"
"Oh, I did," Quinn replied before rolling her eyes at herself. Santana shook with silent laughter. "It's me," she added, before rolling her eyes again. "I mean…it was me who called you. It's Quinn." She shook her head slowly at her own stuttering as Santana continued to snicker.
"Oh... Quinn... I'm afraid this isn't the number I have you saved in my contacts under."
"I know..." She hesitated before continuing. "I didn't give you the real one."
"Oh."
A few moments of silence passed before Quinn responded. "I just-"
"At least-"
Both girls stopped what they were saying, having spoken at the same time. Rachel was the first to speak again. "My apologies. What is that you were you going to say?"
"You can go ahead with whatever you were going to say; it's fine," Quinn replied.
"You're being uncharacteristically nice, Quinn. Is there something you need from me? Because really, I'd be much less offended and much more appreciative if you were just honest with me."
Quinn pulled her body away from the phone as if Rachel's words had infected it with some sort of disease, having been caught off-guard by the accusation. Unable to stop herself, the tone of her response was laced with irritation. "I don't need anything from you, Rachel."
"Then why is it that you called?"
"Perhaps I actually wanted to be nice to you. Perhaps I wanted to see how you were doing, how your summer was going," she answered borderline sarcastically.
"I don't really know what you expect of me, Quinn. It strikes me as odd that you just seemingly out of the blue decide to call me, and one of the first things you tell me is that the reason it was unknown to me it was you who called was because you had given me an inaccurate number. And, might I add, that you still have the rude tone you always do with me? Because you do. And tell me, what am I supposed to do with that?"
Quinn looked at Santana, who shared the same surprised look on her face that Quinn did. She took a short breath before answering. "I didn't give you the right number because I didn't know if you'd call me every five seconds to remind me to work on my pitch or my occasional sharpness and I just didn't want to have to hear 'Defying Gravity' playing from my phone all the time."
"You have my number set with a personalized ringtone?"
Quinn literally face palmed herself, keeping her hand covering her face so not to look at Santana. But she didn't have to see her to know that she was silently laughing again. She could feel it by the shaking of her bed. "Yes, so I can know not to-" Quinn's words were cut off as a nail file was thrown at her face. She squeaked in response.
"Quinn, are you all right?"
"What?" Quinn asked, picking the file up off her lap and glaring at Santana. "Oh, yeah. I was just saying, so I can know not to answer in the same way I would one of the Cheerios. So I wouldn't scream at you... or anything." Santana held her hand out for her file and Quinn threw it back at her.
"All right, Quinn. I don't know what you're playing at, but the amount of things wrong with your most recent statements, I just… Since when have you been concerned about yelling at me? It's not like you've ever been hesitant about it before." She paused. "But more importantly, if I didn't even have the correct number for you, how would I call you in the first place?"
As Santana reached for the file that landed at the corner of the bed opposite where she was, she collapsed onto the bed and began silently laughing again. Quinn looked down at her phone, quickly trying to think of something to say. "Oh, umm, well, I…"
"You know what? I'm not even sure I want to know. So, how about we leave it be? I'm sure you'll give me a perfectly logical explanation one day when you're ready, or when you have it. But…if you'd please tell me why you called." She took a breath. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Quinn sat trying to contemplate everything Rachel had just said. Her shoulders dropped slightly, and she leaned back into the pillows behind her. "I just wanted to see… Well, I just wanted, umm, how are you?"
"Quinn? Is something wrong? Are you in trouble? Are you being held against your will? Are you strapped to a bomb? Is that why you're acting so strangely? Oh god. It is. There's no other explanation. Quinn, what can I do? Do you need me to call 911 or the ACLU?"
The biggest smile grew on Quinn's face at the concerned tone in Rachel's voice. "Yes, I'm fine," she answered. "You don't need to call anybody. I'm perfectly safe. I promise."
"That's of course what you would have to say if you were in any of the situations I mentioned. And how did you get yourself in that predicament in the first place? Did you not get the rape whistle I left in your locker sophomore year?"
In the middle of Quinn trying to contain her laughter, she asked, "That was you?"
"Of course it was me, Quinn. Who else would it be? Do you not remember my power point on the importance of safety for young girls in Lima? When you walked out without picking up your whistle, I took the liberty of putting it in your locker."
"And you got my locker combination how?" Quinn asked, with no malice in her voice, only curiosity.
"That information is on a need-to-know basis, I'm afraid." A few seconds passed. "Oh my, oh my, oh my. Quinn Fabray, how am I supposed to know for sure that you haven't been kidnapped? Oh, I've got it! If you really are safe, tell me a song we sang in glee club any time over the last two years, and if you aren't, tell me a song we haven't."
"Rachel…" Quinn laughed.
"I'm serious!"
"I know you are. That's what makes it so funny." Quinn dropped her head and continued to laugh. She refused to look at Santana.
"I'm concerned for your safety and you think it's funny."
"Rachel, if you could only hear yourself," she said, trying to stop herself from laughing.
"So did I play into whatever joke you had planned for me well enough? Or did I just make myself into an even better joke for you to laugh at with all your friends?"
All humor was washed from Quinn's face. "You are not a joke. That's not what this is." Quinn looked down at her phone and turned the speaker off as she stood up to leave her bedroom. She brought the phone up to her ear, not turning around to acknowledge Santana as she walked out the door. "I'm not like that anymore, Rachel. I won't ever do something like that to you again."
"I don't know what to say to that, Quinn."
Quinn let the full weight of Rachel's words sink in as she took a seat on the top step of the staircase at the end of the hall. "That's okay," she said softly, her sadness showing through. "The reason I called… I was going to ask if maybe I could take you to dinner?" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I've been terrible to you for a long time, and I know it's going to take me even longer to make up for everything I've done. I know that I can't take any of it back, but if you'll give me the chance, even though I don't deserve it, I will do anything I can to try to make it up to you."
The line was silent for about a minute before Quinn asked, "Rachel?"
"I apologize for my silence. I'm trying to process everything you just said to me."
"Okay," Quinn replied, nodding confusedly. She waited for a few moments for Rachel to speak, and when moments turned into more than a few seconds and that turned into a number of minutes, her nerves couldn't take it anymore. She waited five more seconds before speaking herself. "You C-"
"I've c-"
Quinn couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "We keep doing that."
Rachel returned the laugh, though Quinn could tell it wasn't the most genuine. "Yes, it would seem so. And now you may speak, since I spoke the last time."
The sudden stiffness of Rachel's voice brought a frown to Quinn's face. She sighed silently as she looked down and began tracing patterns on the hardwood floor beside her. "I was going to say, 'You Can't Always Get What You Want'."
"I beg your pardon?"
"The song," Quinn clarified. "You asked for a song. There's my answer."
"You were very pretty that day."
Quinn abruptly stopped her movements on the floor, flattening her palm to it and pushing down, gripping the stair she was sitting on. She considered for a moment before replying. "You were amazing that day."
There was silence on the line for nine seconds. Quinn counted every one.
"Honestly, it was nothing. I'd had that number prepared for a very long time, should an emergency situation arise. I could have-"
"Rachel…" Quinn interrupted.
Rachel cleared her throat annoyedly. "Yes, Quinn?"
"I'm sorry to interrupt you, and I would love to hear you talk all about sectionals and every performance we've ever had and musicals and Barbra Streisand and gold stars or really anything you wanted, but it just took a lot for me to ask you what I did." Quinn snapped her eyes shut quickly, realizing her mistake. "But it's not in the way you might think, okay?" She took a deep breath, having not done so the entire time she was just speaking. "But I would like it if you would meet me at BreadstiX at 7 o'clock on Friday night for dinner…Please."
Eighteen seconds this time. If it weren't for Quinn's nervousness about this length of silence, she would have smiled about the fact that it was the date of Rachel's birthday.
"Quinn, I- I'm incredibly surprised by this invitation from you. I'm not- I'm not sure exactly how I'm supposed to feel, because I certainly never saw this coming. I wasn't prepared for this, and that should- I'm prepared for everything. I- I've worked very hard to be your friend for a long time, and this is the first time you've ever made any effort back. It means a lot to me, Quinn. It really does. And I would love to go to dinner with you."
"Really?" Quinn asked, trying to control the smile on her face that had already formed because of the change of tone in Rachel's voice and now grew even bigger because she'd agreed to go.
"Of course. We can catch up on each of our summers so far and all that jazz. I don't think much of my summer will be very surprising for you, but perhaps yours will be for me. I've always wondered what a day in the summer life of Quinn Fabray is like."
"It is very different from summers of the past, I'll tell you that," Quinn said honestly.
"I cannot wait to hear all about it! I'm sure you have loads to tell me! What with your Cheerios activities and how that new haircut is working for you. But for now, I must go downstairs for Monday Night Movie Night with my dads. We're venturing outside the realm of musicals and nature documentaries and into the deep dark depths of Pixar."
"The deep dark depths of Pixar?" Quinn asked, playfully.
"Yes, I'm all about the classic Disney movies."
"I see," Quinn answered, smiling at Rachel's reply. "You can tell me about it on Friday if you'd like."
"Oh, I most definitely will. Don't you worry."
Quinn laughed quietly. "I can't wait."
"Yes. Neither can I! I hope you have a wonderful rest of your evening, Quinn and I'll see you Friday evening at BreadstiX. 7p.m. sharp."
"7 p.m. sharp," Quinn repeated.
"Quinn?"
Quinn froze. "Yes?"
"I'm so glad you called."
"So am I," Quinn admitted, relaxing again.
"Goodbye, Quinn."
"Bye, Rachel." Quinn took the phone away from the side of her face and watched the call end before she slowly stood up and walked back into her room. Right before she turned to walk through the door, she stopped and leaned against the wall, inhaled and exhaled slowly and smiled to herself. She did it. She'd talked to Rachel and asked her what she'd intended and it hadn't gone wrong. Well, not completely wrong.
But they were going to dinner.
It was a rocky start, but it was successful nonetheless.
Dinner.
For two.
Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray.
Quinn Fabray was going to dinner with Rachel Berry.
On. A. Date.
After a few moments Quinn pushed off and walked through the door to find Santana lying down on the left side of her bed, with her right arm thrown over her face. Quinn quietly walked over and lay down next to her, unable to contain her smile. Santana turned her head to face Quinn, not removing her arm. She moved it slightly so she was able to peer through. "Well, someone looks happy." She dropped it back down. "Thanks for leaving me out, bitch."
Quinn sighed and stared up at the ceiling. "You wouldn't have liked what you heard very much anyway, Santana. We got sappy."
Santana turned her head back up. "Oh god."
The two girls sat in silence for a few moments as Santana waited for Quinn to speak. When she said nothing, Santana asked, "So? What's the verdict?"
Quinn turned quickly onto her side, propping her head up with her left hand. "You and I can't hang out on Friday."
"Well, damn." Santana dropped the right side of her face to the pillow so she was looking at Quinn. "What am I supposed to do without you?"
Quinn laughed. "I find it funny that it's hard to tell if you're being sarcastic or not."
"I find it funny that…ugh," Santana grumbled, turning her face back towards the ceiling. "What else am I supposed to do?"
Quinn continued to laugh until Santana forcefully let her fist drop to Quinn's stomach. "Ow, you bitch," Quinn reacted, shooting a glare at Santana and shoving her hand away.
"Well, don't laugh at me. I legit don't have anyone else, Q," Santana admitted. "You know I can't be around Brittany."
"You could always hang out with Karofsky," Quinn suggested.
Santana stared at her for a moment. "Change the subject. Tell me about this phone call. Save me the gory details."
"I'll try my best," Quinn assured her. As she repeated the conversation for Santana, she made sure to skip over any unnecessary information, steering clear of anything Santana might make fun of, and made sure to recount exactly what she asked and what the responses were. When she was done, her face hurt from smiling, but she didn't care, because she was actually happy.
"You asked her to dinner?" Santana asked, with a look of genuine surprise. She nodded her head slowly. "Good job, Fabray, I'm impressed."
"What?" Quinn laughed. "Did you not think I'd be able to do it?"
"No," Santana replied.
"I didn't either, actually," Quinn responded, dropping her head onto her arm.
"At least you aren't taking her mini golfing or something lame and super obvious like that," Santana commented.
Quinn turned to Santana, looking at her oddly. "Uh, isn't that what you did with Brittany on your first date?"
An annoyed look appeared on Santana's face. "Yes, and it's been haunting me ever since."
"How?" Quinn asked, looking at her questioningly. "Brittany loves everything you do for her."
"Yes, Q. Thank you for reminding me," Santana responded sarcastically.
Quinn sighed. "I'm sorry."
"Whatever," Santana said sharply. "Golfing even in mini form is a gay sport and that golf course smell made me lose prom queen."
Quinn scrunched her eyebrows together. "The fact that you didn't get enough votes made you lose prom queen…"
"Right back at ya, sweetie," Santana retorted.
"Hey, prom ended up being a pretty great night, so make all the comments you want," Quinn replied, shrugging.
"What was the best part?" Santana asked, a sarcastic tone still in her voice. "Slapping your girlfriend across the face?"
"I'll slap you across the face if you ever bring that up again," Quinn snapped back, glaring.
A devious smile grew on Santana's face. "I think you'd enjoy that too much, Fabray."
Quinn elbowed Santana in the ribs.
"Ow!" Santana exclaimed to which Quinn only shrugged.
Santana snickered as she rolled over to lay on her side, propping her head up with her right hand. "Oh, you know you would. Don't even pretend like you wouldn't," Santana continued, winking at Quinn.
Quinn rolled her eyes and shook her head.
"Listen. Berry makes you a nutcase, but we knew that before you even called her." Santana moved her hand up in a gesture to cut Quinn off before she could say anything. "I'm not done." She dropped her hand back down on her hip before continuing. "But you've gotten through this, and not that I could tell or anything because you took your damn phone call out of the room, but if she agreed, there's clearly something about you that she likes. And this takes us back to the original plan and getting rid of Finny should be easy."
Quinn looked at her confused. "Getting rid of him?"
"Yes, Q. We're going to tie him to Artie's wheelchair and roll them both into one of Puck's pools." She rolled her eyes. "We're going to have you spend as much time as possible with Berry so that she'll forget about the oaf, who is only ever going to hold her back, and hopefully, I don't know, realize she like, loves you too, or something like that."
"Santana Lopez, it's almost as if you care about her." Quinn playfully bumped shoulders against Santana.
"Ugh. Don't say things like that. I kind of care about you, you love her. I guess she somehow gets cared about in some way." Santana paused. "And apparently, talking about Berry makes me sound like her." She raised an eyebrow at Quinn. "I'm a rambler now."
Quinn laughed lightly and smiled. "Her rambling is much cuter."
"That's gross," Santana replied, with a forced disgusted look on her face.
"San, what am I supposed to do?" Quinn asked as she stood staring at the clothes hanging in Santana's closet. It was Friday, a little after one in the afternoon. She had finally planned every detail of that night. It was all in place, and it seemed so far everything was running smoothly. This was the first time she and Rachel were ever going to hang out at friends. One day, Rachel would know that to Quinn, this was like their first "date", and everything about tonight would matter. Rachel would always remember the little things, and Quinn wanted it all to be perfect.
"I don't get why this is such a big deal to you," Santana said as she rolled her eyes, not looking up from the magazine she was reading as she laid on her bed. "She's dating Finndla for god's sake. I bet he hasn't put 10% of the thought into his entire relationship with Berry than you have about your outfit."
Quinn took a deep breath before answering and sighed. "You can call her Rachel, you know. It's not that hard."
Santana still didn't look up, but she did lift her fingers to snap at Quinn. "Hurry up. Pick something. No time for your commentary about what I call your girlfriend."
"Santana…" she sighed. "I have been standing here for god knows how long. There is nothing in here I can wear. She will hate it all."
Santana's head shot up. "I've seen Berry check me out more than once, Fabray. There is nothing about those clothes that she will hate."
Quinn sifted through a few of the hangers as she answered. "She will hate them on me."
"What is the problem with your clothes again?" Santana asked, clearly not bothering to try to sound interested.
Quinn turned around to her. "I told you I couldn't find anything."
"You could wear a potato sack and she would still think you were-" Santana cleared her throat. "-'the prettiest girl she'd ever met'," Santana finished her sentence in an unsuccessful impersonation of Rachel.
Quinn turned back around to the closet, reached in and grabbed six shirts and threw them at Santana. "Don't do that! Don't mock her. Don't make fun of the things I've told you about her. You may put up a bitch front with everyone else, but don't do it with me. At least not when it comes to her."
"Damn, Q," Santana finally responded, as she piled the clothes next to her. She watched as Quinn went for more shirts. "Stop! Stop. You throw any more of my clothes at me, I swear."
Quinn let go of the clothes and waved her off as she walked over to her purse without saying anything.
"What are you doing?" Santana asked as she stood to hang up her shirts.
Quinn shrugged as she pulled out her phone and found the contact she wanted. "Calling our fellow gay."
A/N: This one is for everyone at FaberryCon . :)