"You had a very busy summer and then jumped right into season two. Some of my favorite episodes were in season two. There were several tributes and a special for the Super Bowl that year. Do you have a favorite episode?" Rita carried on with the interview, bouncing between topics of the show, their personal lives, and their characters with ease.
Rita was a huge fan of the show and all of the stars. Over the years and interviews, they had all wormed their way into the hearts of many. Though she was never personally close with the cast, she felt connected to them…just like much of America. She was so fascinated by the dynamic between the shows leading ladies and all that had obviously occurred off-screen. Wrapping the two worlds together was thrilling for the journalist and satisfying for the inner fan.
Rita was trying to remain as professional as possible and not divulge into their personal lives too deeply. She knew that Quinn was very private while Rachel was ready to proclaim their entire story from the mountaintops. Still, she wanted to gather as much information as possible- knowing full well that the network would edit and tweak things as much as Alan Peters wanted. The interview would be shaved down into an hour long special, combining clips from all of the cast interviews.
Her previous meetings with several other cast members had been shorter…but still in depth. She pried as much as she could without making any of them uncomfortable. She'd be lying if she said that she hadn't looked forward to interviewing the two ladies in front of her the most. Their story was the most interesting. Their story was a romance intertwined with the insanities of Hollywood, fame, and changing times. If Oprah Winfrey hadn't gotten the full scoop from the women in the room, she knew she had a snowball's chance in Hell.
But they were just so damn fascinating. Not to mention, their love for each other was palpable. She would be hard pressed to tell a story about them and the show without including some of their romance. So she weaved a tangled web of questions about their lives and questions about the show- that had been and would always be her favorite guilty pleasure.
"Favorite episode? There are so many," Quinn admitted.
"I have categories. Favorite episodes based purely on the musical numbers we performed. Favorite episodes based on storyline content. Favorite episodes based on the events that went on off-camera. Favorite episodes based on fan reactions. Favorite episodes based on best scenes that were shot. Favorite episodes based on best wardrobe choices. Favorite episodes based on guest stars. It's so hard to pick just one," Rachel gushed.
Quinn internally melted at the infamous Rachel Berry ramble. Of course Rachel had categories. Of course she carefully mapped out and plotted which episode fit into what category. She probably had a list that included each episode in some way or another. Analytical and passionate- two of the very traits that used to annoy her decades ago but now made her swell with love and pride.
"Obviously the pilot episode makes any list," Rita nodded sagely.
"It was the first time that things came together. It started everything. It was the door that opened to this whole new world-," Quinn began.
Rachel sucked in a breath and Quinn paused. She eyed the brunette suspiciously and Rachel raised her eyebrow in response.
"I swear to God, Berry if you start singing that song from Aladdin- I will walk right out of this room," Quinn threatened, though her eyes were light with mirth.
"I wouldn't dream of it," Rachel returned breezily.
Though all three knew that was exactly what she had wanted to do.
"As I was saying, the pilot episode is one of those life-altering events for me. It changed everything," Quinn continued.
"I would agree. I think the pilot episode, our first tribute episode, the very first season finale, the first time we filmed in New York, the coming out episode for David's character and then again when Jennie and Alessandra became a couple, the first time episode, the funeral episode in season four, the series finale- so many episodes made appearances in all of my categories," Rachel nodded excitedly.
"So you really can't pick just one?" Rita teased.
"Sometimes, we filmed these amazingly uplifting numbers that brightened even my worst days. Then those episodes are special because regardless of what the episode was about, I remember filming the musical numbers. I remember how we had so much fun dressed up in pajamas and having a pillow fight on set even when my personal life wasn't the greatest. There were a lot of ups and downs throughout this entire process. Sometimes coming to work was a Godsend. Sometimes leaving work was the Godsend. We had long, exhausting days that seemed to drudge on. We would be dragging our feet to our cars but somehow find the strength to get the cast together for late night movie fest at somebody's apartment. Looking back on the difficult days, I realized how much I love those episodes because we were so close off camera," the brunette rambled on, getting lost in memories.
Quinn agreed. She had many difficult days. When season two began and all of their careers shifted, work had often lifted her spirits. Being in love with her best friend but not being able to act upon it- those times had been trying to say the least. However, the show was always a constant source of energy. The cast was always a positive distraction. She had friends who lightened the load. Each episode they filmed was intertwined with real life events. She had categories for her favorite episodes as well.
"The show was truly one of the best experiences of my life," Quinn commented sincerely, garnering the attention of both women who had been wrapped up in Rachel's rambles about different episodes.
"Top three episodes of season one," Rita pressed.
She had gotten good answers from every cast member she interviewed thus far. She knew the editing department would have a field day cutting in clips from the show with the interviews. The top moments of SING! mixed in with cast commentary- it would be her best special to date.
"Season one? The pilot. Obviously. The second episode- it was the first time we all knew we had a solid job-," Rachel started.
"Plus you had a hilarious dance number," Quinn cut in with a chuckle.
Rachel rolled her eyes and nodded, "Sure. That was only mildly embarrassing to hip thrust to 'It's Hip to be Square' while Lucas first noticed Emily. I'd have to leave that off my list."
"I'd say the Sectionals episode was a great episode. You were brilliant in it," Quinn added to the list.
Rachel blushed a little and ducked her head shyly. A Quinn Fabray compliment still made her heart stutter.
"Oh I loved our fight scene that got cut!" Rachel exclaimed.
"That was a good episode. It was in the second half of season one," Quinn agreed.
"But definitely the season one finale. It was the first time we ever had an epic shoot. It took like a week and a half and we pulled several fourteen to sixteen hour days. The end result was amazing though," Rachel concluded.
Quinn nodded her concurrence as well.
"Now what about season two. Can you pick a few episodes from that season?" Rita questioned.
"The first half of the season is still a blur. There was so much going on in our personal lives at the time. We had the Emmy's, movie premieres- it was just crazy on and off set," Rachel breathed out noisily.
"You moved," Rita pointed out.
Rachel nodded stiffly. Quinn bit her lip and nodded slowly.
"I think season two in general was a transitional year for all of us. We were trying to get settled into the entertainment world and everyone kept waiting for the show to slide into a sophomore slump," the blonde answered.
"On and off camera there were a lot of major shifts. If the first season was the world's introduction to our characters- and in turn, our introduction, personally, to the world…then season two was delving beneath all of that and figuring out our place- individually and as a whole with the show in the entertainment world. We were all just trying to figure out where we belonged," Rachel added.
Los Angeles
9 years ago
The California sun was blaring down relentlessly. Though rarely humid, the air seemed stale and unmoving. It felt more like the hot summer days of New York City where the air was weighted down and unforgiving in its heat. She felt a little suffocated with the sun beating on her shoulders and people bustling by quickly on Rodeo- too many people, not enough breeze. August came quicker than Quinn expected and she was scheduled back on set bright and early the next day for another epic episode. The hours at SING! seemed to grow longer each week since they began filming again.
The blonde pushed her sunglasses up higher on the bridge of her cosmetically straight nose. She silently thanked all higher powers that amidst the crowds of bleach-blondes and impossibly thin Californians, she was one of thousands and could blend into the sidewalks. Every other girl she passed could be another Quinn Fabray. The last thing she wanted was another photograph of another lunch date with another friend- that would quickly become a dating rumor. Maybe it wasn't just the heat that felt suffocating.
It seemed like ever since she returned from Pittsburgh, the paparazzi would appear everywhere. They were clicking pictures on the way to the studio. They were popping up to capture a lunch meeting with her agent- who was quickly labeled a boyfriend, then quickly debunked as such once Shawn was in the vicinity. They were randomly showing up near her apartment complex catching photos of Josh leaving in the morning and splashing headlines of Rachel's relationship.
So perhaps the heat wasn't the only thing suffocating the blonde. At least if she was photographed on Rodeo Drive all they would get were pictures of her with a Gucci shopping bag- not some illicit affair.
"It's about time you called a girl. We've gots some major hashing to do," Santana smirked from her perch next to the Christian Dior storefront.
Unless some elicit affair was reported with Santana. The Powers The Be over at HGTV had no qualms about broadcasting Santana's relationship with Brittany. She was as out and proud as she'd ever been. As long as Quinn's sexuality remained private, she was sure that her current lunch date wouldn't be relationship rumor fodder.
The Latina lowered her shades ever so slightly to give Quinn a once over. Upon approval of her inspection, Santana smiled at the blonde.
"I'm parked close by if you want to get out of this heat," Santana commented over her shoulder.
She was already heading toward her car without waiting for a response. Quinn rolled her eyes but followed along dutifully. The two old friends walked along silently as if they were strangers. Santana kept a brisk pace that had Quinn widening her steps just to keep up. Any casual observer would be hard pressed to assume the two even knew each other. Quinn's gaze darted around tentatively anyway.
Santana's Lexus flashed its lights quickly when she unlocked it. Quinn slipped around the back of it gracefully before sliding into the passenger seat with an ease expected of a close friend. The strangeness of sitting in Santana's car for the first time in years didn't sink in until they had driven nearly a block.
"Nice car," Quinn acknowledged after a heavy sigh.
"Yeah it is. Cost a bitch, too. Britts hates it. She wanted some eco-friendly bullshit that Berry went on and on about. I swear the more that hobbit calls and fills B's head with ideas, the more I want to ship her back to whatever pigmy island she originally came from."
"Rachel's been talking to Brittany?"
Santana glanced at her with a humorless expression and ignored the question. The slight clicking of her turn signal filled the silence instead. Quinn cleared her throat and stared at her hands folded gently in her lap. It shouldn't be so awkward in her own best friend's car.
"Are we heading to your place?" Quinn questioned after a moment.
Santana nodded, still choosing to remain verbally unresponsive. Quinn sighed and turned her gaze out the window to watch the palm trees as they zipped past. The blue sky was nearly cloudless. Still, the beautiful day did nothing to alter her mood. She knew the oncoming conversation wouldn't be fun.
Despite several of Quinn's attempts for small talk, the ride to Santana's home reminded relatively soundless. The brunette even turned off the radio as soon as Quinn tapped it on. Quinn swallowed thickly and accepted the inevitable awkward stillness. If Santana wanted Quinn to wallow in how strained their relationship had become, then Quinn simply had to deal with it.
Quinn kept her comments to herself when the gates to Santana's home opened and they pulled up the drive. She was impressed. She would never let the other girl know she was- but she was impressed. Naturally the real estate guru with her own television show- about real estate- was bound to have a nice place. It also went without saying that Santana's home would be much nicer than any apartment complex Quinn lived in. The network helped pay for Santana's home. They filmed there frequently. She had to look the part of the most successful real estate agent on television...which she was.
"Somebody going to pick your ass up later? Cuz I'm not leaving this place again until I have to work tomorrow. I'm done for the day," Santana finally spoke up when she unlocked the door.
Quinn was equally impressed with the interior decorating inside- but again, she would never let Santana know.
"Pick your jaw up off the floor and answer me. The silent treatment is my thing. You are the one who has to deal with your punishment for ignoring me for three weeks," Santana crossed her arms and blocked Quinn's path into the rest of the house.
"Courtney and I are going to dinner. She said she could swing by to get me on the way," Quinn replied, rolling her eyes.
Santana narrowed her eyes and led Quinn into the living room.
"Glad you have time for dinner with some of your friends. I was starting to think you'd reverted to your Teen Mom days when you sat in your room hanging with your best friend Depression instead of spending time with the rest of the world."
Quinn didn't reply, knowing the Latina merely wanted to pick a fight.
Santana sat down on the lush couch and glared at Quinn when the blonde attempted to sit on the couch next to her. Quinn sighed but moved to the armchair instead. Santana made no move to speak first.
"Did you invite me over just to stare at me all afternoon?" Quinn asked.
"Depends. You wanna fill me in on your life for a change or you would prefer to pretend I still live on the opposite side of the country," Santana crossed her arms over her chest and sunk back into her seat.
Quinn tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear and glanced around the room. She knew it wouldn't be easy. She knew Santana would be pissed when they finally got to spend some time together. She also knew that she could've tried harder. She should have tried harder. Between the movie, Pittsburgh, New York, Pittsburgh again, finishing the movie, and flying back to LA- things had been a little hectic. Still, she should have found time to visit her best friend who had recently moved across the country.
She'd been struggling.
"How about I start? I moved. You became a bitch. Well you've always been a bitch. Scratch that and begin again. I moved. You became a shitty friend."
"What do you want, Santana? I'm sorry I suck. I've been too busy self-destructing to come check out your fabulous new life that you've been dying to rub in my face," Quinn smiled sweetly.
Both friends reveled in the venom between them. They exchanged glares and let the tension simmer to a low boil. It was familiar to build a fire between them. They would burn each other but in the end it felt almost nice to have that love-hate back.
"You've always self-destructed. That's nothing new," Santana bit back.
"I've always been a shitty friend, as well. So have you. Distance is a two-way street," Quinn smirked.
Santana's glare broke into a grin, "You have always been a shitty friend. Like getting knocked up by my beard in high school when I was fighting to pretend to be straight. Then turning into a flaming homo yourself. That was grade A friend-shitiness. You could've at least told me you were a raging lesbo. No, you told half of the freaking world before you bothered to call me."
"I told like four people before I called you. And you never offered me a place to live when I was homeless. Shitty friends. Two way street, bitch," Quinn grinned back.
Santana tossed back her head with a laugh. Quinn joined in with a chuckle. Old wounds that used to sting so deeply had in time transferred into scars to laugh about. They always had a strange friendship.
"So where've you been and what hideously stupid thing have you done now? While you're at it, you can fill me in on the bottle blonde Boy Wonder from Down Under," Santana challenged.
Quinn rolled her eyes and relaxed into her chair. She would never fully understand how their friendship worked, but it always worked. A few traded barbs and everything was back on track. There was such a fine line between love and hate between the two former Cheerios and yet it always crossed back to love. Plus the scales tipped easily. It never took more than a couple of insults between the two to find their rhythm again- like coming home after a long vacation-a few adjustments, a little clean up, and things are settled once more.
"Shawn is an actual blonde if you must know," Quinn countered.
"Actually I didn't need to know and I don't believe it for a second. If he's a natural blonde than your Brown-haired Whale of years past was really just a figment of your imagination and photoshop."
"Okay rude. Lucy is still off the table. And- unlike me, Shawn is actually a blonde."
"His hair is of no concern to me. What's the deal with you and the wannabe Hemsworth brother?" Santana persisted.
"He's a friend," Quinn replied simply.
Santana rolled her eyes. She crossed her right leg over her left and kicked in Quinn's direction with her right foot.
"We're not anything, I swear. He's a just friend."
"No shit you're not anything…lesbian," Santana snorted.
"I meant he's not my beard. It wasn't anything like that. He's my friend and we never planned for the rumors. The studio doesn't want us to deny anything because it's good publicity right now," Quinn shrugged.
"Okay."
Quinn watched her carefully. Santana shrugged back and tried to mask her face. Quinn knew what Santana was thinking anyway.
"Just say it."
"Say what?" Santana asked, too innocently.
"You have a 'something face'. I know that face. It means you're thinking something and I probably already know what it is."
"Just curious about a few things. That's all."
Quinn groaned internally. Santana was never 'just curious' about anything. She had a fully formed opinion on all matters. She had a comeback for everything and a strongly organized thought for every occasion. She was like Rachel in her ability to firmly believe she deserved to have an opinion on everything in the world- not only that, but her opinion on every topic was always right.
She had given Quinn hell when she started hanging out with her former roommate Mark. Santana had griped for weeks on end about the pointless parading of beards until Quinn eventually stopped answering her calls. They didn't speak for three weeks. Once the buzz died down and everybody forgot about Mark, Santana seemed to magically forget about him as well. All parties involved moved on with their lives. Things went back to normal.
"Just because you have an opinion on everything doesn't mean your opinion matters," Quinn grunted.
"I know that. It's not like I'm Berry or something. That little gremlin thinks her thoughts are God's word from Hebrew lips- speaking of Frodo, have you made time for your other friends, too? Or am I the only one you've been ignoring while you've been busy being a shit for brains lunatic?"
Quinn rolled her eyes.
"Oh so you're ignoring everybody from Ohio, then," Santana smirked. "It's funny because B happened to mention that you haven't really been speaking to Shrew Streisand recently," Santana winked.
"We work together. We live together. It's not as if I've been actively ignoring Rachel."
"But you have been actively ignoring me?"
Quinn's words caught in her throat. She paused and shook her head.
"I wasn't ignoring you per say. I was just…" the blonde trailed off.
"Self-destructing?" Santana prompted.
Quinn sighed and nodded.
"And what, pray tell, brought about this recent bout of self-destruction?"
Quinn struggled to find where to begin. She had been raised on keeping secrets and hiding true feelings. Fabrays thrived when the house was full of silent battles and secret wishes. Opening up to anyone was difficult, especially someone as antagonistic as Santana. She thought she had made progress over the years. She shared parts of her thoughts and feelings with Scott and Matt. Santana was her best friend though- next to Rachel. Santana knew the intricacies of her past with Rachel. She formed opinions on everything and probably had a stock of opinions just waiting to burst on the matter. Unleashing everything and spilling her guts to the Latina was like opening Pandora's box. She wasn't sure she was ready. At the same time, she knew she'd been making more missteps recently. She could probably use the dose of reality Santana would inevitably present.
At the end of the summer, Josh had moved across the country to be with Rachel. He had rented a home and thought it was time for them to be more serious about their relationship. Rachel felt bad about putting Quinn out every time Josh came to stay over, but also wanted to spend time with her now serious boyfriend. Rachel and Josh spent their nights between both homes. Each time he would stay over, Quinn crashed at Matt or Scott's apartment. Rachel thought that an added person in their tiny living space annoyed Quinn. Truthfully, Quinn couldn't sleep knowing Josh was in the next room with Rachel.
For the past two weeks, Josh had been trying to convince Rachel to move in with him. Quinn was torn. Rachel didn't really seem to want to leave. Quinn didn't really want her to go. She would be relieved that she wouldn't have to smile at Josh first thing in the morning when he was scratching his stomach next to the refrigerator while looking for regular milk instead of Rachel's soy. She was afraid if they had one more awkward encounter over Josh using the last of Quinn's skim milk, she would burst. She didn't want her increasing hatred of all things Josh related to destroy her friendship with Rachel. She could feel the tension rising every time he came around. Each day, she fought even harder to avoid lashing out at him.
She was also convinced that she needed space from Rachel. She tried to distance herself when her dream from New York became a weekly reoccurrence. The first week that they were both back in their shared apartment was awkward. Quinn somehow suppressed the need to blush after the first day, but she couldn't stop her muscles from tensing every time Rachel touched her- even just a passing brush. She knew it wasn't fair and she knew the distance was slowly eating away at Rachel. Yet, she didn't know how to stop the dreams, stop her heart, or stop the tug in her stomach that begged her to touch Rachel just a little more. Every time Rachel touched her- she flashed back to different touches and different sounds. It was torture. In turn, the distance between them persisted and grew.
Movie nights with glasses of wine were a rare occurrence. Rachel usually had movie nights with Josh at his place. The further Quinn retreated, the more Rachel turned to Josh as an outlet. The small cracks in the relationship between the roommates cut a little deeper, cracked a little further. Quinn wasn't sure if she wanted to repair the damage or let the wounds fester to make it easier on Rachel if she truly wanted to move out.
Rumors sprang up about Quinn and Shawn just as she had predicted. It was different from the last time there had been speculation that she was in a relationship. She knew when she went to dinners with Mark that people would draw certain conclusions. She hadn't shied away from the idea that she could be in a private relationship. She never commented on it. She never confirmed it. She never denied it. At the time, it had been part of her strategy. It wasn't as if she had hired him. She used the opportunity to catch up with an old friend and let people think whatever they wanted. Santana had completely called her on her bullshit.
With Shawn, it had been different. She hadn't sought a friendship. She hadn't planned on any of it. She made a movie. They became friends. Rumors stirred. With Mark, she had embraced the rumors in some sense- even if she hadn't confirmed or denied. With Shawn, she didn't have a choice in the matter. The studio was thrilled. It was great PR. They hadn't known she needed a beard. Her director, her producer, the studio executives- none of them had any clue about her sexuality. They were just thrilled for publicity. It made her feel cheap. It made everything feel forced in a way that having dinner with Mark hadn't felt. She felt trapped in the farce.
When they began filming season two, things had just shifted. Their apartment didn't feel the same anymore. Josh had moved to LA and Shawn came to the studio for ADR. Having both guys around and the paparazzi trying to grab shots of the girls with their "boyfriends"- the added pressures pilled on and suddenly the small distance between roommates felt like a canyon.
"Is this about BoBo the Sad Clown?" Santana asked.
"Excuse me," Quinn chuckled.
Santana rolled her eyes. She hated when she needed to explain her insults. Obviously Quinn wasn't up to speed. She really had been avoiding Berry.
"Berry, she's like all sad now. Normally I find her scary but amusing in the same way that a circus freak or a clown is horrifying to watch but you can't look away. Now the scene is just pathetic- nobody likes a sad clown. It's not like I talk to Berry…but Britt said she's not exactly thrilled with your current living situation," Santana clarified.
"She doesn't like living with me?"
Quinn's insecurities sprang up faster than her heart could pang reminding her of the aching distance she had imposed on them.
"I think the issue is the suddenly silent roommate- which I'm guessing is in direct correlation to a problem you're having with BoBo the Sad Clown…who thinks her roommate hates her," Santana quirked her eyebrow.
"I don't hate her," Quinn mumbled.
Santana started laughing. Quinn lifted her head to stare at the Latina in wonder. What was possibly so hilarious about this situation?
"So where do we begin?" Santana asked seriously.
"It's…it's sort of about Rachel. You weren't wrong there."
Santana settled into the couch as if she was just getting comfortable. Quinn couldn't help but feel like the brunette was actually settling in for a therapy session. Instead of Quinn on the couch pouring her feelings out for some stranger- she was stuck in an unforgiving armchair, rigidly tearing out pieces of herself for judgment from a close friend. It was like the worst therapy session ever with the psychiatrist on the comfy couch and the patient studying her every reaction.
"You hate Josh," Santana deduced.
Quinn paused, her mouth flopping open unattractively. She was like a gaping fish but somehow Santana had stolen the very thought from her head- even though she had no intention of beginning there.
"It's fine, Q. Seriously. It's not a big deal. He's a third party crashing in on your humble abode. You have a two-bedroom apartment that comfortably suits two people. You add in a third body, even one that shares the second room, and things are bound to get weird."
"Yeah but-," Quinn started.
"Listen to me, Tubbs. Rachel can squawk all she wants that Josh is in her room and he's only getting in her way, but the truth is the guy is all up in your space. You come home from a long day at work and all you wanna do is curl up on your couch with a glass of wine and some horribly clichéd chick flick. The reality with roomie number three- you get home, somebody else is already holed up on your couch, drinking the wine he bought with Rachel, and watching a crap ass action movie…or let's face a musical because Josh is a Broadway guy so he's probably a little bit of a Nancy boy."
Quinn rolled her shoulders back and stiffened at the perfect picture Santana painted.
"He's in your bathroom in the morning disturbing the carefully constructed routine you've built with your roommate. An extra person throws off your schedule. Your shower time is bumped. Your breakfast isn't made the way you want it because you got the heel from the loaf of bread because Singing-and-Dancing Penis ate the other two slices."
Quinn was stunned. Santana smirked and tipped her head as if she knew everything. Then the reality of a singing and dancing penis sunk in and the Latina grimaced.
"Gross images aside, it's text book behavior. Now you're freaking out because you can't say anything to Berry about it- not after your disastrous high school ordeal. Any criticism of her boyfriend feels too close to Finn Hudson drama. Like you're begging her to see the bigger picture beyond what boy parts go in what girl parts," Santana chuckled, equipped with an obscene hand gesture.
"That is disgusting."
"You are such a little lesbian. It's amazing it took you so long to figure it out," Santana winked.
Quinn rolled her eyes. She settled into the chair as comfortably as possibly. Tucking her left leg underneath her and resting her left arm on the back of the chair. She tipped her head to crash against her dangling hand.
"It's a little more complicated than that," Quinn admitted.
"Except it's really not. You're in self-destruct mode. You labeled it, not me. You can't tell your head from your ass right now. The point is- you're not secretly lusting for Josh in a reboot of Hudson. You're not jealous of Rachel's relationship in a time warp from the past decade. Broadway Boy is all up in your business. You're not threatened- you're just unhinged. It's natural. Cut yourself a break. It's not a big deal. You're not a terrible friend trying to sabotage Berry's relationship. We all know you've grown up and aren't that girl anymore. Berry knows you're not that girl anymore. You need to accept you're not that girl anymore."
Santana's eyes sparkled with something akin to pity- or maybe just empathy. As a former bitch- and still occasionally snarky but awesome person- she knew exactly how it felt to drag around old demons. She knew what it felt like to question if she could really leave the bad behind and start fresh with friends she used to torture. She knew how it felt to wonder if people could seriously forgive and forget.
"What do you think about Rachel? I mean our friendship. Does it seem…it's weird right? How quickly she and I became so close," Quinn fumbled over her choice of words.
If Santana was thrown by the abrupt change in coarse of the conversation, she didn't let it show. She narrowed her eyes in a way that was less threatening and far more indicative of serious thought.
"Well…at first it was weird as hell. That is what you want to know, right? What you're asking- what I think about your weirdo, quasi-relationship/friendship/roommate layered thing especially since you're a big ol' mo and she's a girl?" Santana asked bluntly.
Quinn nodded silently. Once again, she was amazed by Santana's perception and ability to see the situation clearly. Insults and quips aside, Santana was usually able to hit the nail on the head.
"Right. It was weird. I figured when you guys started hanging out that it was the familiarity thing. You weren't exactly friends in high school. Even when you tolerated each other you weren't really besties. I guess maybe senior year, you guys got along- Hell, you pulled out all the stops with the Metro passes but then neither of you used them for each other. Berry's passes expired and you came to visit me a couple of times. Largely it was like two hundred bucks down the drain. I figured it was your loss."
Quinn bit back a retort at the cavalier way Santana could classify their former friendship and the dig at Quinn's previously wasted finances. As she and Rachel grew closer over the previous year, she often wondered why they ever drifted apart in college. Their similarities and compatibility seemed glaringly obvious- hindsight being 20/20 and all of that. They should've been close friends from the day they met but naturally high school social structure and jealousy stopped them from seeing the bigger picture- or at least it stopped Quinn from seeing beyond her red and white cheerleading uniform. She wasted so much time being petty back then. It seemed she wasted even more time allowing herself to wallow in misery rather than become comfortable in her own skin as a teenager. Now she wished she could've changed all of that.
"Flash-forward a few years and you guys are being all chummy. I figured it was because you were both new to the same show and you had a history so you banded together. No big deal," Santana explained.
Quinn swirled her a stray hair around her finger and nodded, "It definitely started out that way."
"Then you moved in together. That really kinda threw me. I mean it makes sense to cling to what you know. Hell, even I started hanging with Berry when I first moved to New York. I like lived with her for a hot second. And though I'd never own up to it if you pressed me about it in public, I know from experience that she kind of grows on you- like a fungus or something."
"Like a Chia pet," Quinn grunted with a tiny smile.
Santana noted the barely concealed smile and nodded to herself. The pieces of the puzzle began connecting. She stretched out on the couch to appear uninterested but kept her gaze locked on the blonde. She didn't want to frighten Quinn by coming on too quickly and skipping straight to the point. Quinn was blunt when she wanted to be but incredibly vague when it mattered. She was skittish in ways usually only attributed to small woodland creatures and the immensely emotionally stunted. She wasn't sure if Quinn was aware of how she was feeling but playing coy…or if Quinn hadn't deducted the truth yet. She flashed back to a particular conversation she had with Brittany only a few nights prior. The bubbly blonde was convinced there were unseen layers and feelings between the costars and former classmates.
"You guys were kind of friends. You moved in together. You'd end up hating each other but still act civil for the show. When I came to that concert and found out you were closer to Berry, of all people, than even me and Britts. I'll admit, I was...a little hurt, I guess. I didn't expect to see you tell her all your secrets. And I didn't expect her to cuddle with a homo that wasn't Hummel...no offense," Santana shrugged.
Quinn rolled her eyes but didn't retort. Santana squinted while she mapped out her thoughts. She picked at her nails for a second. Quinn waited patiently- or as patiently as she could.
"You're both type A people. You don't have the easiest time making friends. It's natural to stick to what you've found. I still expected more fights or something. I mean you're practically the same breed of person. If Berry had put the same focus on cheerleading and popularity that she put into Broadway, you guys would've had a real war during high school. You're both scarily determined and driven. You're smart. You both fight tooth and nail for what you want. I don't think either of you really wanted Finn or it would've been a different story there, too. Given your now lady loving status, it's not surprising to me that you never put up a real fight for Man Boobs."
Quinn frowned at the obvious Finn insult. Santana remained a frenemy to most of the glee club but Finn never truly made up for outing the Latina. It was still a touchy subject and he never really became the guy they all thought he would. Her insults were usually laced with a bit of playfulness- except when talking about Finn. The fun in her eyes disappeared and the words felt a little colder.
"But it makes sense? Like our friendship? You don't think it's...too much?" Quinn asked after a second.
Santana chewed on her bottom lip and pondered her answer. Quinn, never one to remain patient for too long, began picking at loose thread on the chair, waiting for the Latina to answer. Santana was actually giving it some thought. She replayed several moments of close interactions between Quinn and Rachel. Given Rachel's insane need to be liked- it seemed natural. Given Quinn's insane need to be loved, though she would never admit it- it worked. She didn't want to blow with Quinn's mind with any other implications if the blonde hadn't figured out her feelings yet.
"Look, I wouldn't over-think it. You guys work. You shouldn't make sense but you do. You make her tolerable and she makes you...human. I don't know. It's like the ice queen is still there but with a little less bite to your frost. You can still cut people but she makes you care about it. I think deep down it's always been like that. You level out her crazy. You make her humble. She tames some of your bitch. You bring out the best in each other," Santana replied.
They sat in silence for a few minutes both picking through their thoughts. Santana studied Quinn who avoided her gaze by pulling at the loose thread. Santana narrowed her eyes. She was waiting for the moment Quinn caved. It had been building and Santana wasn't blind. Well, she had been blind but Brittany saw everything. Brittany knew everything. The girl was a freaking genius. Brittany picked it apart and saw the story behind the situation. Santana was reluctant to agree at first but sitting in front of Quinn now-it was obvious. Two nights ago, Brittany said that Quinn was avoiding Rachel because she wanted more than the brunette could give her and it hurt. Santana's heart panged a little in her chest at the thought. She knew all too well how that felt. She had been lucky enough to get the girl in the end.
At first she wasn't sure if Quinn was aware of her feelings. Replaying the conversation made her realize that Quinn was only all too aware. The blonde was head over heels. The real reason for her self-destruction was evident. Quinn knew how she felt and Quinn was miserable.
"I get it, Q. I was in love with B when she was with Wheels. Even then, I still knew she loved me. The same thing with Sam- I knew what we had was more than what either guy could give her. It's a strange thing to realize you have feelings for your best friend," Santana spoke up eyeing Quinn cautiously.
Quinn squeaked in protest. The skittish woodland creature looked ready to bolt for the Hollywood Hills. Quinn surprised her though by squaring her shoulders and tackling the issue head on.
"I'm not going to deny that I've discovered a lot of things about myself over the years. I also won't pretend that what I feel toward Rachel is entirely platonic. That stuff you said about Josh is true. I hate having him in my space. But then there's this whole other side. I think about the past year and it gets a little complicated. If she moves in with him…"
Quinn couldn't finish the sentence. Just like she couldn't totally give up on Rachel. There was something in her blood- maybe a stubbornness inherited from Russell Fabray that wouldn't let her go down without a fight. She just couldn't let go entirely. She couldn't let go when she could see so clearly the way that things could be.
"Q, this is Berry we're talking about. If she knew how you felt, she'd try so hard to make sure you never got hurt," Santana said, with a surprising amount of sincerity.
Quinn sighed and nodded before Santana continued.
"You're her best friend. Beyond that? Who knows what goes on in that little weirdo's head," Santana grunted.
Santana debated continuing on with her thoughts but ultimately spoke up anyway. She had to be the voice of reason. She knew it was her lot in life to tell it like it is. Most of the time it was enjoyable to put people into their place. She loved being bluntly honest with those who refused to see reality. Call her bitch if you wanted to but somebody had to keep it real.
In moments like this- she hated keeping it real. She wanted to tell Quinn that life was a fairytale and it always worked out in the end. She wanted to tell Quinn that she would get the girl, ride off into the sunset, and live happily ever after.
She knew she couldn't lie to her girl like that. The one thing Quinn and Santana always had was brutal honesty when it mattered. They could hide under layers of witticisms and insults. They could mask their feelings when they needed for some power play. When it mattered though, they were always truthful with each other.
"If she wants to play house with the Music Man, then you gotta do what you've always done. Be the voice of reason but then ultimately support her when she makes her mistakes. I can't blame you for how you feel about her. But maybe you gotta let some changes happen. Maybe you have to make yourself happy before you can worry about making her happy. You have to take care of yourself first. Support her as much as you can but if it gets to be too much, take a step back."
Quinn's crestfallen expression cut Santana to the core. She really hated being the one to put that look on the usually composed blonde's face. Her mind raced with some way to heal Quinn's heart without building up false hopes.
"Look, you can't waste your life away waiting on a Berry to fall from the Sapphic Tree. Sometimes those things don't go down until they're shaken," Santana smirked, attempting to lighten the mood.
Quinn shot her a far less than amused look for her efforts. Santana bristled in return and snapped back a comment before she could reattach any sympathy molecules to her brain.
"Q, you may not even be a blip on her little bi- radar. I'm not saying this to hurt you. You know how she gets about her leading men. She puts the blinders on and charges right into the love parade, horse face and all."
"Bi-radar?"
Santana rolled her eyes. Of course that little slipup was the one thing Quinn latched on in her entire tirade of awesome insults. Santana had exceptional gay-dar and Rachel pinged it years ago. Quinn was obviously too invested in minute details of Rachel Berry to see the big picture.
If the blonde bothered to open her eyes to take in the world around her instead of keeping them solidly locked on Rachel's legs, she would've realized that the world was full of colors instead of black and white- gay or straight. Rachel Berry resided in the rainbows of the world where such distinctions were merely heard of but not taken seriously. Currently she skipped around in the purple area- if boys are blue and girls are pink, her relationship was purple. If Berry got tired of slumming it in purple, she'd realize that true love is bright red. She'd have better luck getting close to red with two pinks than adding in a blue. That was just common sense- a kindergartener could explain it with a box of crayons.
"I wasn't going to bring this into our conversation. I didn't want to get your hopes up. Now that the pussy's out of the bag, so to speak, might as well explain everything. B and I came up with this theory. Like 99.9% of the time it holds true," Santana sighed like she alone was plagued with the brightest knowledge of the universe.
"Do I even want to know?" Quinn rolled her eyes.
"Just shut up and listen. I'm abouts to educate ya."
Santana settled in with a haughty look and a roll of her shoulders. She cracked her knuckles and narrowed her eyes at the blonde. Serious mode.
"Most women, especially those involved in the arts- ding, ding, Broadway- rate like a one or most likely a two on the Kinsey Scale. Your girl, Berry, is at least a 2.9 if not a full on 3. I'd actually venture a guess that she's a 4 but just hasn't realized it yet. Now Britt is like a solid 4. You and I are probably 5's. Well, let's be honest, you're a harder 5 than I am. I'm like a 4.9 because, though it pains me to admit, I had a lot of sex with Puckerman in high school. Grosses me out now but at the time, I was glad to get it. I'm like a lizard. I need some warm rock to heat my blood when it's cold outside. You, on the other hand, had sex with Puck once- and then only women after that. So you're like a 5.9 for your one indiscretion. You're about as close to a 6 as I've ever known without being scarily butch."
"And this is supposed to be your way of telling me I should move on?" Quinn asked, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"I'm not saying everything will work out perfectly for you. I'm not saying Berry is even the girl you'll end up with. I'm simply stating that Short Stack hasn't realized she's a...she's a 3.875. She's like an honor student in lesbianism-where you're more of a super genius. Give her a little time to keep studying and I'm sure she'll pass with flying colors. The choice will be up to you if you're willing to settle for an honor student or if you prefer to find your match in a fellow Ivy Leaguer," Santana smirked.
Quinn silently absorbed the information that her best friend rattled off as if they were solid facts instead of opinions. Santana had a way to speak what she believed as truth in such a way that one would be hard pressed to deny her logic. Quinn's heart stuttered at the thought that maybe one day her luck could change. Maybe she had some hope after all.
"I'm not telling you to hold on. The girl is clearly thinking about moving in with her boyfriend and- as her friend- you have to respect that. BUT I wouldn't be me if I didn't point out that she's not entirely straight. Rachel does care about you. Right now, she's really invested in this thing with Broadway Boy. That's the reality. What she has with him, it's real. So, no- I don't think you should waste your life waiting for her to figure her shit out. Date a little. You're a freaking celebrity. Enjoy your life. Get laid for a change. Don't shut everybody out being all miserable," Santana practically ordered.
Quinn furrowed her eyebrows. The Latina could be so confusing. The truth was a convoluted mess. Rachel wasn't entirely straight but Quinn didn't need to wait for her?
Santana took pity on her. She knew their conversation had derailed at some point. She was supposed to convince Quinn that life went on without Rachel Berry but had somehow ended up spouting facts about bisexuality. Still, she was a truth-sayer. It was her job to tell it like it is.
"Someday Berry's going to wake up and realize that someone…someone so special has been sitting next to her all along. You didn't hopelessly fall for some straight girl who could never return your feelings. You didn't pin your hopes and dreams on madness. You're a smart girl who can't control how she feels and when she feels it. That's not something to hate yourself over. It's not something you can control but you can't let it control your life. There's no reason to self-destruct. That's my point in all of this," Santana clarified.
Quinn nodded silently. She understood where Santana was coming from. Dealing with Quinn was often like dealing with a caged wild animal. Some days the tiger responded to gentle coaxing. Other times it needed to be lured into action with the promise of meat. Every approach needed to be tested to see what worked. To snap Quinn out of her self-pity and heartache, Santana needed to show her that she wasn't an idiot who'd fallen in love with an impossible dream. At the same time, she also needed to show Quinn that she'd have to protect her heart first. Live her life and let the pieces fall into place as they may. She couldn't push the situation or control Rachel's love life. She could only accept things for what they were in the moment.
"You're catch. Some girl, somewhere is going to figure that out and sweep you off your hideously uncoordinated feet."
Quinn glared in response, "I seem to recall that I was cheer captain over you multiple times. More coordination."
"You know it had nothing to do with skills. Coach liked you more because you were blonde. She wanted to relive her childhood through you. I was infinitely more talented," Santana grinned when Quinn rolled her eyes.
Santana wasn't trying to build false hopes with the conversation. Quinn would move on when the time was right…or Quinn would get the girl when the time was right. It wasn't Santana's job to push the clock. She wasn't a freaking time lord. She was the girl who keeps things real- a truth sayer. If she had to throw a few insults in there to keep things light-hearted then who could really blame her? She wasn't about to hold Quinn while the blonde sobbed over unrealistic expectations of love with Rachel Berry. That wasn't their style. She needed to present all options to Quinn and let her act like a big girl, a grown up.
Rachel always talked about her fluid sexuality. Personally, Santana checked out anytime Berry started talking about her fluids because she repulsed her- but she was sure Quinn would've latched on to that already. She didn't want to deny that Rachel Berry certainly could be bi-sexual. She didn't want to deny that it was plausible for the girls to find their way to each other.
She also didn't want to downplay Rachel's current relationship. She couldn't pretend that Rachel didn't have real feelings for her weird Wang from the Great White Way. It would be a disservice to Quinn if she pretended he didn't matter.
"Let her make her mistakes, Q. It's not your job to fix her life. If she wants to move in with him, let her. Breathe. Live your life. You gotta let what's meant to be happen. Whatever you do, don't push her. The hide-and-seekers rush back into their closets faster than you can say 'gay panic'- especially when they feel they're threatened. Isn't that how you wound up preggers?"
"I wasn't gay in high school. It wasn't...I didn't have gay panic," Quinn glared.
"Sure, whatever you say, Q. The point is Rachel needs you to be her friend first. It's a shitty place to be in when you know you both deserve more. But it's the only way you're guaranteed to keep her in your life while she figures out hers. Trust Auntie Snix on this one."
"When you go all Lima Heights, it becomes slightly less assuring," Quinn muttered.
"Listen, whatever happens- I've got your back. I'm not on the other side of the country. There's no time zone difference to consider. I know we have our own shit. I know we give each other a hard time…but I've been where you are. I'm sort of an expert on the whole being in love with your female best friend thing. I don't know why you'd crush on Berry when B and I are so much hotter…but I'm here. Right now, she's doing her thing and we can't force her to change her mind on anything. Let her go and see if she comes back to you. It's like a proverb or some crap. So don't…self-destruct on your own or whatever. I'm around," Santana mumbled.
"Are you actually being nice?" Quinn teased.
"You know what I mean."
Quinn nodded and smiled, "I do…and I really appreciate it. I am sorry that I've been a shitty friend. Your house is really nice."
"You're damn right. My house is the tits," Santana grinned.
"I'm…I'm glad we did this today."
Santana nodded.
"This conversation stays between us. If anybody found out I was like nice and supportive and everything- my rep would get trashed…I don't know if you have other people that you talk to out here. You shouldn't keep things bottled up. It's not a good look on you. It makes you look pathetic and little sickly like some kid with mono…and for God's sake, stop ignoring Berry. If she calls here one more time to talk to B when I'm abouts to get my sweet lady kisses on- I swear I will behead her quicker than a an episode of Game of Thrones!"
Quinn laughed and nodded. The muttered nerd under the blonde's breath was ignored. Santana walked her to the door where Courtney was waiting at the end of the driveway. The other girl was blasting Taylor Swift and singing along. Santana rolled her eyes while Quinn shrugged at her costar's behavior.
Quinn paused at the doorway, "what if she really moves in with him?"
"I guess you'll have more time to hang with me."
"S, I'm serious."
Quinn rarely let her vulnerability shine through. Santana placed a comforting hand on the blonde's shoulder.
"It's Berry. She makes a lot of stupid and rash decisions. Just do like you always do. Be the voice of reason and support her when she doesn't listen. It sucks. It's probably gonna hurt. Just don't get hit by truck this time and I promise it won't kill you."
Quinn huffed in response.
"Q, relationships come and go. I'm not going to stand here and say you're going to end up with Berry. Be her friend right now. I know that's hard but the rest of the pieces will fall into places when it's time. Take care of yourself. Take care of your friendship. When you can't do that…let me take care of you. You know B will help too. She's a lot better at this shit than I am," Santana smiled softly.
Quinn nodded and surprised them both when she threw her arms around the Latina. Santana stiffened at first then relaxed into the hug. Courtney laid on the horn interrupting their moment.
"Come on, Barbie. Let's go party," Courtney laughed.
Santana patted Quinn on the back when they pulled away. She then flipped off the other Latina who cackled loudly in response. Quinn chuckled and skipped down the driveway. She threw a wave in Santana's direction once she reached the car and mouthed 'thank you'. The brunette dipped her head and grinned.