The Aftermath

9 years ago

"Rach," Quinn called hesitantly from the front door.

The house was dark. It seemed as if no one was home. She waited awkwardly in the doorway and checked the driveway once more. Rachel's car was still there. She knew she hadn't dreamt it. Chase had gone to the Lakers game with Matt. Scott was out with Courtney and Brooke. Santana and Brittany were out celebrating their anniversary. Crossing each member of their circle off the list, Quinn knew Rachel's options of escape were limited. The brunette had been hiding out for several days.

She fleetingly wondered if Rachel was out with one of the girls from hair & makeup. She and Sydney had grown particularly close in recent weeks. There was always the off chance that she had gone somewhere with David. On occasion, she had even gone to Alan's house for dinner and to discuss different ideas for the show. Rachel was the one person whose ideas Alan actually took seriously.

It had been three days since Quinn had last seen the normally effervescent brunette. The silence was eating away at her.

Over a week ago, she had a received a hushed phone call and then Rachel showed up at her door in sweatpants with tear stained cheeks. They didn't talk about it. She let Rachel in and the two quickly crawled into bed. She'd never felt closer yet further from Rachel in her life. Sleeping in the same bed but miles apart. Somehow, Quinn drifted off to sleep that night. Rachel was gone in the morning. She honestly didn't know if the brunette had slept at all that night. The next day Rachel showed up to work as if nothing had happened but her smiles never quite reached her eyes. All week she showed up, filmed, recorded, or did whatever was asked of her for the day's schedule. She laughed hollowly with the rest of the cast and never mentioned the proverbial elephant in the room.

Quinn knew what happened. They didn't speak about it that first night. They didn't talk about it at work. They didn't hang out after work. Still, she knew what happened. Santana drove by on Wednesday and confirmed Quinn's suspicions when she saw Josh's brother carrying boxes from the house. Quinn called a few times. She sent a few unanswered texts. She respected Rachel's professionalism too much to force her into a conversation at work. Then the weekend hit and Rachel went MIA. Quinn called a few more times. She sent a few more unanswered texts. Finally, she got tired of waiting. It was time.

The faint sound of the television caught Quinn's attention. She shut the door behind her and flicked on the light in the front hallway. She put her keys on the table nearest the door.

"Rach," Quinn called out again.

There was still no response as Quinn made her way down the hall. The living room was silent- no lights, no television, no Rachel. The kitchen was just as quiet. She followed the soft sounds coming from the bedroom. The lights were off and the television was quietly flickering with a routine from the previous week's So You Think You Can Dance. A Sara Bareilles song crooned while two dancers twisted a complicated tale of unrequited with their bodies. Quinn watched for a moment getting a little caught up in the magic unfolding before her. She had always loved dance and wished she'd kept up with the ballet she'd done as a young girl. Ballet had been wrapped up in Lucy whereas Quinn was the cheerleader- an image she still couldn't fully escape. Two intertwining personalities lost in a battle of private life and public eyes.

She smiled slightly watching the young dancers execute a complicated lift with ease. It was so rare to see a performer get so lost in the art...unless someone had the fortune of working with Rachel Berry.

Quinn pulled her eyes away from the screen to scan the room. The bed was unmade, sheets rumpled and pillows arranged where Rachel had once slept- or judging from the disarray- hadn't slept. The bed was empty and the petite actress was nowhere to be found.

The picture frame- that once held a photo of Josh and Rachel smiling at the stage door after one his Broadway performances- was turned face down on the nightstand. Quinn let her gaze trail across the room, noting all of Josh's possessions were gone. The light breeze across her face turned her attention to the open sliding glass door.

She slid the door open the rest of the way to the patio in Rachel's backyard. The brunette was sitting in a chair staring up at the sky. If she knew Quinn was there, she gave no indication.

"Rachel," Quinn gently spoke, trying not to startle the other girl.

"Do you ever miss the stars?" Rachel asked.

Her lack of surprise wasn't what caught Quinn's attention as much as the lack of emotion in her words. The blonde didn't want to push her friend but her silence all week/weekend was troubling.

"The stars?" Quinn echoed.

Rachel nodded. Quinn took that as her cue to join her. The pale girl pulled out one of the empty chairs from the patio table and settled in gently. She scooted the chair closer to Rachel, cursing herself when it scraped loudly against the cement- hoping the moment hadn't been broken. Rachel ignored the chair's harsh protest and merely reached her hand over to tangle her fingers in Quinn's, grateful for the support.

"Before all of this- before the show, before I ever performed on a Broadway stage…all we had were possibilities. The whole world was ahead. I thought I had it all figured out. My goals, my guy, my future- sometimes the twists and turns don't even feel real," Rachel confessed, never taking her eyes off the sky.

"Life has never taken the turns I thought it would," Quinn agreed, running her thumb over Rachel's knuckles.

They sat in a comfortable silence. Rachel occasionally squeezing Quinn's fingers while the blonde rubbed her thumb soothingly across those small knuckles. The loud hum of the traffic somewhere beyond the yard filled the wordless void. Quinn waited patiently. She knew Rachel needed time to sort through it on her own but a week of wallowing was long enough.

"I've always loved the stars…they were kind of my thing," Rachel smiled.

"Really? I never would've guessed," Quinn teased lightly.

Rachel squeezed her fingers in response.

"I wanted to be a star. For the longest time, I wanted Broadway and Finn Hudson. I was sure. Now I feel like I'm just passing through day to day. Never really knowing where I'm going- just fumbling along with the whole world watching...there have been so many choices. I never stopped to consider if I'd always picked the right ones."

Quinn nodded silently. It was easy to fly through life. Make a choice and deal with the consequences later. She learned quickly that life always threw a curveball and no matter the choice, right or wrong, she would always have to face the consequences. She had long ago given up on regretting her choices and chose to accept her fate instead.

"Josh and I broke up."

"Yeah."

There was no question in Quinn's response. Certainty. Yes, they broke up. Yes, he moved out. Yes, it was over. Yes, Rachel would be okay. Certainty. For Rachel, it was enough to quell the tempest stirring underneath her skin. She'd been questioning her every move leading up to the ruin and every move after…right up until moments ago when her best friend joined her on the patio. There was clarity within the woman sitting next to her.

In the days since Josh moved out, Rachel had been surprised by the torrent of emotions whirling through her. Fear of being alone crept in like a silent thief the night after he left, stealing her usual resolve and filling the house with voids. Emptiness settled into their shared bed reminding her of the cold sheets on the left side. Then there was the dull nothing that sat just a breath away from her heart. It didn't crush or squeeze or make her heart ache over some lost love. It hovered around it, instead- like a dark fog reminding her that she didn't hurt like she thought she would. It was the constant reminder that she never loved him like she thought she had. He wasn't the right one.

Maybe she was as selfish as her peers had once deemed her. She didn't hurt because he left. Her sympathy and any twinges of pain melted more into guilt than anything else. Guilt that she never truly loved him. Guilt that she let it get as far as it had. Guilt that she wasn't heartbroken just insecure and afraid to live alone in that house.

Then finally, the biggest guilt: her first thought when he left was "what will everyone else think of me?"

She still couldn't get it right. That was the idea that plagued her the most. Everyone would see her as a failure. It wasn't pain for Josh as much as pain of another failure. Maybe she was self-centered.

"I'll be okay," Rachel promised hollowly.

"Yeah," Quinn repeated, the word escaping like a forgotten sigh rather than an actual response.

The certainty was still somehow laced in Quinn's response, even if she never meant to speak. Rachel may not believe she'd come out totally unscathed but Quinn knew she'd be better for it.

For a moment, Rachel pulled herself out of her self-indulgent pity party to study her best friend.

Quinn was comprised of contradictions since the day Rachel had first watched her waltz through the double doors of William McKinley High. She was confident but insecure. She was strong but broken. She was damaged but resilient. She was calculating but unsteady. A series of mismatched angles that somehow shaped a person that eclipsed the sun with her stunning radiance and hidden inner warmth- yet froze the world with a turn of phrase. Time had changed so much. Maturity swallowed the cruelty but edges still remained. Their friendship formed out of the ashes of Quinn's rebirth. She became the constant in Rachel's life.

Quinn's certainty was the one thing that never wavered. She calculated each step until she was positive the path wouldn't crumble beneath her foot. A paradox presented fully when she was sure of her steps but stumbled broken and homeless anyway so many years ago. It was that certainty that she could persevere despite missteps that ensured that she did. Comprised of contradictions and unwavering certainty. That's why when Quinn said Rachel would be okay, Rachel knew she would. It was all in the way she touched Rachel's hand. The words themselves were never needed. That small relief blossomed in Rachel's chest. She was at times self-centered but she still had Quinn. She had a constant for years longer than she ever realized.

Rachel's eyes traced over the line of Quinn's jaw. Her strong profile catching the the blue light from the television inside. This familiar face had come to mean everything in such a short time. This friendship had eclipsed everything and swallowed Rachel whole, momentarily blocking out the bad thoughts and leaving nothing but contentment.

It's strange the way one moment changes everything. One person can change it all without even a word.

Quinn turned to catch Rachel's stare. The blonde blushed under such close scrutiny. The moment was lost. Rachel gazed up at the sky once more. Like a match of ping pong between two unwilling partners. Catch a glance, send a glance.

It was Quinn's turn to study Rachel's profile. If only she could know what was going on in the brunette's head. Was she hurting? Did she need comfort? Was she scared? Did she need reassurance? How could Quinn prove to her that none of it mattered? How could she show Rachel that she would come out on top of every situation? She'd watched her do it for years. She'd seen, firsthand, the way Rachel could twist a mistake into a lesson, turn a challenge into growth, or change a broken heart into a stronger person. It didn't matter how many Josh's or Finn's or Jesse's or whomever's walked in and out of her life. She'd find her way and she'd be better for it.

Come with a man
on your shoulders,
come with a hundred men in your hair,
come with a thousand men between your breasts and your feet,
come like a river
full of drowned men
which flows down to the wild sea,
to the eternal surf, to Time!

Bring them all
to where I am waiting for you;
we shall always be alone,
we shall always be you and I

The poem sprang to Quinn's mind suddenly. Pablo Neruda. An idea sparked.

"You know, I used to sit on my roof outside of my bedroom window. In the Fall, I'd wrap a blanket around my shoulders and sit out there until my bones shivered. After the accident, I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to climb out there- to just sit in silence and watch the stars, think, read a book by flashlight, or write poetry," Quinn finished with a tiny laugh, remembering her sorry attempts at poetry.

Too much imagery and not enough meaning in her own works. She struggled to paint the pictures in her mind. She struggled to understand her own feelings far too much to accurately describe them. Her insides waging battles with her religion, her parents, her sexuality- even if she hadn't known exactly what war she was fighting at the time. She craved the words of greater poets and let them seep into her soul- transforming her into a different person. Maybe she had started changing even back then. Maybe she had softened during those nights on the roof and began the road toward accepting herself.

How had they made it to this point in their lives, in their friendship? Like little robots reconstructed from each previous destruction, each failed attempt at love, popularity, self acceptance. Somehow they still came together and rebuilt, stronger than ever. Every time one floundered, the other made her presence known- a small assurance that even your worst enemy cared. Now worst enemies turned into the closest support. One more example of life's curveballs.

"The night after I came out to my mom, I spent hours on the roof staring at the stars and wondering if anything would ever be the same," Quinn remembered the questions, thoughts, and feelings as if they were yesterday.

"Were they?" Rachel asked softly.

"No…I don't think life ever really goes back to the way it was the day before. It's constantly changing. Sometimes it changes for the better...sometimes it doesn't. We can't force the world to freeze to give us time to catch up to its turning. We just have to make the best of the new day. He was never going to be someone for you. Josh was a nice guy. You need more than nice. It's not your fault. He's just not what you need."

"Yeah but I should've ended things with him a long time ago. Instead, I let it sour and become bitter. Now I'll have to pretend we're still great friends because a messy break up is the last thing I need as gossip. I'll always wonder if today is the day he tells everyone the truth. What if this is the day people find out how horrible I am? I've spent more time wondering about what everyone else will think than wondering about why it didn't work. How messed up is that? I'm not broken hearted. I'm worried about my public persona. I'm horrible."

"You're not horrible. You wanted to be in love. You weren't. It happens...we all sacrifice a bit of our souls for the business. That happens too."

Rachel took a deep breath and let her head fall against the back of her chair, scooting down to slouch comfortably. She searched desperately for just one star but knew she was only looking at smog and airplanes. Stars didn't blink. Shooting stars didn't last. Airplanes took their sweet time sketching patterns in the night sky, blinking out the wasted wishes sent up to them. Shooting stars are quick. Blink and you miss them. They're rare and special. Rachel figured that's how true love was- rare and special.

"You know what, screw it all. Who cares what they print about Josh? Who cares what he says? Who cares if people speculate about what happened? I took a chance and it didn't work. I won't screen my life afraid of the outcome. Why should I sit around caring what strangers think? I chose this life. I chose this career. I won't regret that because I broke up with some boy. I'm Rachel Berry. I'm better than this."

Quinn's heart twisted at the notion. Fearless Rachel bounced back at a moment's notice. Always ready to take on the world. Indignant and magically restored to the confident girl she had always proven to be. Quinn hid behind her masks, her 'no comments'- her walls protecting her truths. The old, familiar fear locked its grip around her throat- crawling up from her gut to strangle her from the inside out. Someday the world would know. Someday, someone would guess. They'd see the way she couldn't tear her gaze from her best friend. They'd see the way she watched her- the way she cherished her. All her secrets would pour out for the world to drown in, taking her under the tidal wave in the process.

She wanted to spill the truth before it was too much- to tell Rachel everything. She wanted her to know that she felt everything, every touch, every whispered word. Each piece hummed inside her like a melody sung only by Rachel Berry. She didn't care about hiding from a stranger's opinion but desperately craved the only opinion that mattered, craved the acceptance from the only girl that mattered. Rachel didn't need to be heartbroken. Quinn would cherish her forever and protect her from any hurt she could. She'd brave it all if given the chance. They could take on the world together.

Sitting in the darkened yard holding the hand of the only girl whose hand she wanted to hold forever- it was moments like that when she felt the most fearless and afraid at the same time. Ready to tell the world knowing Rachel wouldn't go anywhere…but afraid to tell her the real truth for the fear that she would.

"Is that why you don't date? The public eye or the unnecessary drama of relationships all together?" Rachel questioned suddenly.

Quinn stiffened in response. They'd skirted over the issue so many times. She always begged off with a different excuse. She'd always lamented over the perils of work and trying to find the right time to come out. She needed to be comfortable with herself in the public eye before she could ask someone to join in it with her.

"I'm..I'm just…taking care of me," Quinn answered with a silent plea to let that be enough.

Rachel nodded. For several minutes it seemed as if she was going to let it drop. Until she spoke up again-

"I get that. I really do. I probably need to learn to do the same. Sometimes, though...I think it wouldn't be so bad if you'd let someone else take care of you, too. This week has sucked but there's nothing like that feeling- that notion that maybe, in spite of everything, you could actually find the right person. It's gotta be worth it someday."

Quinn swallowed thickly and merely nodded in response.

"Any girl would be lucky to call you hers. She'd be lucky to get the chance to care for you. I know I am. I'm so unbelievably lucky that you let me in even a little."

"You're in the most," Quinn whispered hoarsely.

Rachel's fingers tightened once more. Two gentle squeezes before she dropped their hands and said they should get inside. Her feet were cold from the cement below and the temperature was falling with each passing minute. Quinn's heart fell a little more with each step the brunette took to the house.

A few days later, word of Rachel and Josh's breakup had spread throughout the entire cast and crew…as well as the country. Rachel's first public breakup wasn't as clean cut as she would have wanted. It also wasn't nearly as messy as she feared. She remained polite and Josh remained tight-lipped. The thing with celebrity breakups is that it's news until there's something else to talk about. Luckily the Super Bowl episode was being filmed and it was bigger than Rachel Berry's broken or not so broken heart.

It had been the most grueling shoot to date. They had long hours and endless reshoots. Alan was obsessing over every take. They all felt the pressure and knew he wanted it to be perfect. On the day the episode wrapped, they had a party at Santana and Brittany's to celebrate. It was their last episode to shoot before their winter hiatus. They could all go home for the holidays while the rest of the episodes aired and then begin filming again before they aired the episode for the Super Bowl. The party was the beginning of vacation.

Everyone was drinking except for Quinn and David. The blonde had an early flight back to Lima and planned to meet up with Beth and Shelby in the evening. She did not want to be hungover for that particular event. David came for the food but still hadn't turned twenty-one yet and made other plans for later in the evening.

One person who had not shied away from the alcohol was recently single Rachel. She found that her relationship with margaritas was much more fulfilling than her previous relationship with Josh. She hadn't been shy about announcing that concept to everyone else either. She and Courtney had been the instigators encouraging everyone to get on their level. Quinn watched with amusement and caution. Rachel was on her flight as well. It would be an interesting morning.

Santana rolled her eyes at the other Latina who was loudly cursing and gesturing wildly. Whenever the Raiders were brought up Courtney was the first to rant about why they were clearly the most underrated team in the NFL. Santana had no patience for professional sports.

"Santana, may I have a word?" Rachel sidled over next to her and squinted at the former Cheerio.

"Is this going to be one of those things when you say you want a word but really you mean multiple paragraphs of monotonous dribble that make me want to stab my eardrums with the nearest sharp utensil?" Santana countered in one long breath.

"Probably the paragraphs," Rachel admitted sheepishly.

"Right…then no. I'm busy," Santana sauntered away.

Rachel groaned and charged after her. The Latina was magically deeply immersed in conversation as soon as Rachel was within a few feet of her. Santana didn't even acknowledge her but continued carrying on with Brooke and Matt. Rachel growled and marched over to the chair next to David.

"Problems?" the youngest of the cast, asked politely.

"Do you ever wonder why you're friends with certain people?" Rachel glared in Santana's direction.

"If you're talking about Santana- yes, usually. Though, I've found she's part of the package deal. I really enjoy Brittany. I like the rest of our cast. Somehow she's always around and always…crass," David chuckled.

"She is very rude. I don't know if she's actually my friend sometimes."

"Well I should think so. She's very protective of you- of all of us really. Plus, she is rather entertaining. I find myself almost looking forward to her insults. Isn't that just insane?" David laughed.

"Welcome to my entire life," Rachel grumbled.

The gathering had been the party for the episode wrap but somehow Santana managed to turn it into a celebration about her. She wanted to celebrate the renewal of her show. The actual celebration and announcement with the network was planned for the following month. However, Santana felt she deserved many celebrations in honor of her hard work. She arrived on the set of SING! earlier that day and insisted everyone attend a party at her home. Originally they thought it was for them. Of course not.

Rachel watched Quinn from across the yard. Stress complied with the added workload for a Super Bowl episode left her with many sleepless nights. On the nights she did manage to sleep, she rarely dreamt. The back of her mind still tickled with the unwelcome thoughts she had discovered before her breakup with Josh. She had dreamt of Quinn in those earlier days. The dreams hadn't returned and she'd mostly put it out of her mind. Except the margaritas were somehow making the rest of the world fuzzy and allowing space for the brain tickling to commence. She wanted to decompress and unload her thoughts but found her normal sounding board was half of the dilemma. She obviously couldn't ask Quinn why she had a few sex dreams about her. She didn't think she had a crush on her. She kept analyzing all of their interactions to determine how she felt but was left more confused than before. Most of it she chalked up to the crumbling relationship with Josh and misplaced emotions. The margaritas, however, encouraged her to find the tickle in her head and sort it out. With Kurt across the country, Rachel knew the next best dose of reality was the one and only Santana Lopez.

She seemed like the perfect ally. She had already undergone the whole questioning of her sexuality in high school. She knew exactly what it was like to wake up one day and realize that maybe those feelings of jealousy for a best friend were more along the lines of attraction. Rachel was almost certain her feelings for Quinn were strictly platonic...except the times when she really wasn't sure at all anymore.

Santana would tell Rachel the truth- bluntly and probably with an insult- but it would still be the truth. She knew what romantic feelings for a girl were like and could compare them to Rachel's feelings for Quinn. She could help Rachel sort it out.

The problem in this theory was that Santana wanted no part in being Rachel's compassionate ear. She avoided the singer at all costs. Again, the alcohol kept acting as an incessant instigator for thoughts that Rachel couldn't quite sort through on her own.

"Congratulations again," Rachel sprung around the corner, startling the Latina.

"Ay dios mio," Santana breathed clutching her chest. "What do you want, Berry?"

Santana thought she had been sneaky in her trip to the restroom but the little gremlin followed her anyway. She leveled Rachel with a glare meant to incinerate the weak into a pile of smoking ashes.

"May I speak with you? It really is rather of the outmost- upmost- utmost…it's important," Rachel persisted.

"I wish you wouldn't speak to me. Ever...but you keep on appearing like some demented Houdini determined to win over my friendship. After years of resistance, I find you more exhausting than my aging though incredibly stunning physique can bother to exert the energy to ditch entirely."

"So I'm winning you over?" Rachel asked slowly.

"No…you're wearing me down. There is a huge difference. Now speak before I lose all patience with this conversation," Santana rolled her eyes.

"I've been having some thoughts lately."

"Vague but I'll bite. What kind of thoughts?"

"Different thoughts. Dreams to be accurate."

Only Rachel could remain articulate while intoxicated but Santana was too intrigued by the sudden turn in conversation to be annoyed.

"Wanky. Sex dreams. I'm listening," Santana crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall.

Rachel flushed and swallowed thickly. This was much easier in her head when Santana wasn't visibly judging her. She mustered up the last of her liquid courage.

"I think I've been under an increased amount of stress and it's making my mind flip all over the place. With the show, the public thing, my now very public break up with Josh…it's probably easy to allow stress to misconstrue my relationships with my friends-," Rachel rambled on.

"So you're having sexy dreams about your friends. Berry, I'm flattered. Okay not true- I'm actually mildly horrified but maybe just a tiny portion flattered. B and I can get a little freaky. That is true. BUT, we don't share anymore. You're gonna have to get your kicks elsewhere."

"What? NO! It's not- no. Just- no, that's not where I was going," Rachel blustered, shaking her head vehemently.

"Okay, no need to be rude. I am a hot piece and you should be so lucky to dream about this," Santana glared.

"No I know that. I have- I mean I haven't- I mean there was this week after Dani and…no. That's neither here nor there."

"Dani? You had a thing for that chick in New York? Way wanky. I mean she was fun. Give her a go, I guess. It was short-lived for me. It's always been B. So yeah go for it. I'm sure your creepy little manager can track her down somehow."

"I'm not asking for your permission to have sex dreams about Dani," Rachel furrowed her eyebrows and tried to process where the conversation had so obviously derailed.

"This is why we don't talk. You say too much without saying anything at all," Santana snorted.

"It's Quinn, Santana. I don't know if it's due to our incredibly close friendship or the amount of time we spend together. Like I said I've been stressed and she's always been so wonderful since we've reconnected and-," Rachel attempted to explain.

She found the words were harder to get out. Like her mouth was slowly being filled with marbles and the right shapes kept slipping around the marbles instead of making sense.

"I'm gonna stop you right there."

Santana held up her hand in protest. Rachel opened her mouth but a quick shake of Santana's finger shut her up again. The Latina pinched the bridge of her nose as she worked through her response. Rachel was intoxicated but aware that Santana was speechless. Santana gathered her thoughts carefully. Her first instinct in tricky situations was always to resort to anger, but she needed to tread lightly.

"Okay. This was not at all where I thought this conversation was gonna go. So I need you to give me a second."

Rachel nodded and swallowed thickly. It was like watching a predator decide which meal to partake in: the slab of meat to the left or your own body. Any sudden movements and things could escalate quickly. Santana straightened her shoulders and grimaced.

"Okay. Here are the facts. Quinn is my best friend. Quinn is also your best friend. She has been through too much in her life to serve as your drunken experiment. She is a legit lesbian not some bicurious college girl who wants to have a little fun. So before you start waxing poetic about your sapphic curiosities, think for like two seconds about who it is that you're having these dirty fantasies about- and what her friendship means to you. That's number one," Santana ordered.

Rachel's mouth flopped open like a fish gasping for water. She stared at the one finger Santana held up and nodded a few times.

"But I wasn't...I didn't...it was just a dream- a few dreams. I wasn't going to do anything to hurt her. I just needed to talk to someone- to assure me that it wasn't a big deal," Rachel squeaked.

Santana deflated a little at Rachel's obvious fear and bewilderment.

"Sorry it's just…Q's been burned a few times by life and I know what it's like to be your best friend's experiment. In my case, it worked out. For most people, it doesn't," Santana sighed.

"I wasn't suggesting that I would act on it. It's not the first time I've thought of a woman. That's…I mean…I was on Broadway and they just change there right in front of you…I've always known Quinn is attractive. Kurt's not around anymore to listen to me…but a dream is just a dream," Rachel admitted.

"It can be," Santana shrugged. "Or it can be more."

"It was just a dream," Rachel clarified.

"Okay. Fine. A dream is just a dream, Berry. There. That's what you wanted to hear."

Rachel didn't look like she was put at ease. She wasn't really sure if she wanted Santana to argue with her or agree with her. Either option panged in a different way. Santana groaned internally. She hated when she had to be nice to Rachel but it was obvious the girl came to her for real advice.

"Look, I'm all for you testing out the waters. Bisexuality isn't unheard of. My favorite person happens to be bi. I'm totally in favor of you figuring out that stuff if you think there's even a possibility...but two weeks ago you were living with a guy and this wasn't even a blip on your radar. You put these 'leading man blinders' on and go marching into the parade full throttle. You jump first and think later. Maybe you need to take some time to get to know yourself since this whole break up thing. Don't latch on to Quinn just because she's the closest person in proximity. She deserves more than that. So...sober up. You've had quite a few drinks. Spend some time getting to know yourself. Hopefully you won't find yourself as annoying as I do."

"So you don't think it has to be a big deal?" Rachel asked desperately, though still unsure of what answer she was desperate to hear.

"I'm saying you shouldn't decide in two weeks if it is. Slow down. When you go all Crazy Rachel with the blinders on, innocent bystanders watching the parade can get trampled by your horse face," Santana smirked.

Rachel rolled her eyes at the insult but let it slide. It was the part of the deal. Santana dolled advice and insults all in one breath.

"Message received. Hurtful but still received."

"You're a little bit drunk, Berry. I don't think this is worth having a meltdown over right this second. There's nothing wrong if you are bisexual. It's not a bad thing. I'm just saying that you and Brotherhood of the Singing Pants just broke up. Cool your jets for a minute. It's not a big deal unless you make it a big deal. Try not to make shit weird in the meantime and if you ever use Quinn like that, I will break your face."

"Thank you. That's…that's what I needed to hear...and I would never hurt her like that," Rachel promised.

Santana nodded as if to say 'are we done here'. Rachel nodded her head and began to walk away.

"Also if you repeat this, I'll kill you…but if you're sober and you're still thinking about it, you're still...confused or whatever…talk to me again, I guess."

Rachel smiled and nodded again.

Later that night

"You know your whole thing about Quinn being in love with Rachel and how you were right...do you think Rachel might be into Quinn?" Santana asked as she pulled down the covers on the bed.

Brittany was brushing her hair in front of the mirror. She had a surprisingly long nightly routine. Santana was an in and out kind of girl. Strip the makeup. Brush the teeth. Pjs and bed. Brittany, however, seemed to take forever. Santana knew this routine after years of watching her. First, Brittany would wash her face with a bar of soap and cold water. She didn't use fancy makeup remover or acne cream. Somehow with a simple bar of soap, she maintained the best complexion Santana had ever seen.

Then the blonde would brush her teeth. She immediately flossed after then rinsed with mouthwash. After the dentist debacle of Dr. Howard and Brittany's several cavities in high school, she adopted a healthy oral care system.

The third step was brushing her hair while singing her bedtime song. It used to be Lord Tubbington's lullaby. RIP to that heinous cat. After he passed, it simply became Brittany's bedtime song.

Fat cat. Fat cat. Sleep so sweet. I brush your hair. You lick your feet.

Without Lord Tubbington to brush, Brittany turned to her own mane. She did fifteen strokes on each side of her head. She always finished with a shake of her head- which basically undid the careful work of untangling her locks.

The final step was changing into her pajamas.

Santana figured out long ago that it was her job to warm Brittany's side of the bed. She turned down the sheets and watched the hair brushing and clothes changing while sprawled out on Brittany's side of the bed. This way whenever Brittany crawled into her spot the sheets were warm. Brittany hated cold sheets.

"Of course," Brittany replied, catching Santana's eye in the mirror.

"Wait seriously? I mean Quinn is obviously head over heels for the Queen of Munchkinland. You were totally right about that, but you honestly think Rachel feels the same?"

Brittany sighed and walked over to the dresser to pick out her pajamas. She couldn't find her favorite unicorn tank top. She didn't know which was more frustrating- the missing top or Santana's obtuseness.

"She's been making star-eyes at Quinn since sophomore year. Didn't you pay attention in Glee?" Brittany giggled in relief when she found her top.

"I think people call it moon-eyes," Santana corrected.

"Rachel Berry likes stars."

Santana nodded as if that explained everything. Brittany crawled into bed next to her. The blonde flicked off the bedside lamp and snuggled into her. Santana waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness while her thoughts ran rampant.

"Stop thinking so loud," Brittany chuckled, stroking the bare skin of Santana's torso where her top had ridden up.

"Rachel told me something. I think it was supposed to be a secret but she was kinda drunk," Santana muttered.

"Then don't tell me. If you tell secrets, they don't come true."

"Wishes."

"I want Rachel's secret wishes to come true so don't tell me," Brittany insisted.

"Yeah but I think I messed it up, Britt."

"Did you tell someone else?"

"No, but I could've helped the secret wish come true quicker- if I gave her different advice," Santana sighed in disappointment.

"You said she was drunk. Plus you give the best advice," Brittany assured, squeezing Santana tight.

Santana ran her fingers up and down Brittany's arm that was draped across her midsection. She nodded into the darkness.

"I know I do. It was still solid advice. I kept it real. I even called her horseface for good measure," Santana replied.

"That wasn't very nice."

"Sometimes Berry doesn't need nice. She's annoying. Even more so when she drinks."

Brittany rolled her eyes. She loved Santana but it was exhausting to watch her pretend to be so mean all the time. She knew it made Santana tired too. Life was so much easier when everybody could be friends. Santana liked to make things complicated. Still, Brittany loved everything about her even the parts she didn't like as much- like her need to complicate things.

"You can't make secret wishes come true. Not when they belong to somebody else. It's Rachel's job to make it come true. No matter what you said it's only her job."

"Yeah," Santana admitted softly.

"Besides if it comes true too quick, people don't get time to appreciate it. Like Pinocchio, he totally appreciated being a real boy because he had to be puppet for so long. If he was a puppet for a day, he wouldn't get why it was so great that the fairy Godmother bippity boppity boo'd him into a real boy."

Santana grinned despite herself. She would never correct Brittany about Disney. Maybe the blue fairy grew up to be the Fairy Godmother. Brittany knew shit like that. Santana never questioned her on it.

"I could've been Berry's fairy godmother today. Given her a push or something. Glass shoes and all," Santana went along with Brittany's analogy.

She wasn't sure why it bothered her so much. The more she thought about the more she realized she had an opportunity to see if Quinn could actually get the girl. At the same time, she could've pushed and had both of her friends- as painful as it was to call Berry a friend- end up miserable rushing into something neither was really sure how to process. If Rachel was drunker than any of them thought it could've been mindless rambling about some dream that was only vaguely sexual. She didn't want Rachel to hop into the sack and use Quinn to figure out if she was bisexual- not when Quinn was so obviously in love. Santana needed to keep her eye on the situation.

"I wouldn't worry about it. Rachel has really tiny feet. If you pushed her into glass slippers they probably wouldn't fit. Then she could fall and break them. She would hurt herself. You shouldn't push people wearing glass slippers...did you tell her that her wish was stupid?" Brittany asked cautiously, she always hated the word stupid.

Santana rolled over and squeezed her a little tighter. She kissed Brittany's forehead. Sometimes it struck her just how lucky she was to have Brittany in her life. They had come together and broken apart too many times but in the end it was so worth it.

"No, of course not. I told her to slow down. I told her to think things through for a change instead of jumping in. Also, I told her not make a huge deal out of things. Ya know, don't make shit weird."

"I don't think that's bad advice. I think that's probably really good advice."

"Yeah but I also told her a dream was just a dream," Santana grunted in displeasure.

"A dream is a wish your heart makes," Brittany reminded gently. "I'm sure Rachel has seen the movie. She's a lot smarter than you think she is sometimes. It's okay. I know you like her. You have to trust her a little. She'll figure it all out when she's supposed to."

"Have I told you lately that you're a genius?" Santana asked, leaning down to kiss Brittany's nose.

"You tell me with your eyes all the time."

"How about I tell you with my mouth?" Santana grinned.

She kissed Brittany deeply. Their kisses heated hurriedly but just as quickly Brittany slowed them. She pecked Santana softly.

"Rachel made you her secret wish keeper. She may not have known what she was really asking at the time, but you have a job now. It's like you said, you're her fairy godmother. If she comes to you again, you're going to have to be nice."

Santana bit back every joke she could make about being a "fairy" godmother. She knew it wasn't the time for joking. Brittany was in serious mode and if Santana had any hope of getting laid she'd have to see the conversation through. She started it after all.

"I know. You're right, B."

"I think if you start pointing her in the right direction it's not the same thing as telling her what to do. You'd still be an awesome secret keeper. Just don't say it out loud. You never know who else is listening and if you tell somebody else her secret, it might not come true. You have to guard it. This is really important, Tana."

"I know."

"I'm so glad you're as smart as I am. It makes being with you so much easier," Brittany grinned.

Santana guffawed loudly and then rolled on top of her to pick up where their previous kisses left off. Now she would have to look out for Quinn and Rachel. If she could just push their heads together until they figured it all out…or maybe she could lock them in a closet somewhere until they decided to come out of the closet together…or maybe…maybe it was really hard to figure out what to do when Brittany's tongue was doing that thing they both really liked.