A/N: Sorry for the late update. I spent some time re-watching season 1 to acquaint myself with the Santana/Quinn dynamic before their junior year. Why didn't anyone tell me it was the celibacy club, not chastity club? :P Well hope y'all enjoy this.

Chapter 5

When I woke up, I was sprawled erratically on the bed, the sheets twisted around me and my pillow pushed up against the wall. The comforter was in a wad where Quinn's body had been, and the blonde was nowhere to be found. I raised my head and peered around the room groggily, slapping around on my desk for my cell phone. The time read 6:48 a.m., which was a little later than I usually slept. I yawned, stretched, and then realized with a jolt that I had to pee. Really bad.

I jumped out of bed and stared crazily around for a moment, assessing the desperate situation I was in. I could hear the tinkling sound from the bathroom which meant Quinn was in there, showering. Also, the door was cracked and steam was escaping. I could smell the flowery scent of her shampoo. I did a little dance on the balls of my feet, pinching the inside of my arms. I bit my lip. There was no avoiding it - my bladder was screaming at me: this is go time! Go go go go go go go!

I rapped my knuckles against the doorjamb, then peeked my head in. "Quinn?"

"Yeah?" Her voice was a little startled, and I averted my gaze from the image that was distorted by the shower door.

"Uh, I gotta – I gotta pee!" I said it quickly, my hips jouncing up and down quickly. "Like right now! Sorry!" I didn't wait for her to respond before I lunged into the bathroom, ripped my shorts and underwear down, and smashed my bottom onto the open toilet seat. Ahhh.

I was still half asleep and enjoying the unique pleasure of releasing pent up urine when I heard the shower door slide open. I whipped my head around to stare at Quinn, who had poked her head out. She was laughing, and I just stared at her with sleepy eyes. "What's so funny, Fabray?"

"Nothing," She said, still laughing, and closed the shower door. I scowled a little bit, finished up, and then stared at the bathroom sink. I frowned at it, as if this predicament was entirely its fault.

"I need to wash my hands." I said, not really to anyone in particular, but I hoped Quinn would hear. "Quinn?" I said it louder, holding the offending hand in front of me like it was diseased. "I have to wash my hands."

Quinn turned the shower off and the silence in the small room was abrupt and deafening. I quickly smashed the handle down on the hot water, then yelped when it scalded me, and jammed the cold on. I washed my hands furiously and quickly, the seconds of Quinn standing in the shower ticking by maniacally in my brain. I needed to get out of the bathroom before she—

Well, she was already sliding the door open, but I turned and fled before I could get a glimpse of her golden, naked, wet body. I was turning a deep red color but was grateful she couldn't see it. I was beginning to think that my pink-haired friend was doing all this on purpose to torture me. I frowned speculatively at my bed, the blankets in complete disarray. I sat down at the desk and clicked on my phone, immediately checking my Facebook and Twitter. Social networking sites are like crack to me. I guess that's probably true of most teenagers.

-Good morning Britt. Don't forget to get notebooks and pens today.

I sent the text, and then sighed, suddenly terribly homesick. The weekend before school starts is usually pretty epic. My family has a huge barbecue and I invite Brittany and her little sister and her parents, if they want to come. Quinn came last year with her older sister, too. Once I invited Puck, and I was thinking about letting Finn and Rachel come, but hadn't decided. After the barbecue, Puck would have a bonfire out on his uncle's property, and we'd all get wasted and either sleep in our cars or on the ground. Brittany and I kissed for the first time at one of those bonfires. I had lost my virginity to Puckerman at another. They're a Lima tradition, and I felt their absence sorely this morning.

Sundays before the first school Monday were for school clothes and school supplies shopping with Brittany and Quinn at the Lima mall. Usually I could talk my mom into giving me enough money to get my hair done and manicures for all three of us. It made me feel a little shabby and ignored, even though I don't really need a haircut and my nails are perfectly groomed, as always. Britt loved going to the mall, and I wondered if she'd do it today anyway, without me. My heart clenched with a dull ache at the thought.

The problem of how Brittany was going to survive this year without me or Quinn was really pressing on my mind. I clicked through my contacts and then grimaced, my thumb hovering over the gigantic schnozz of Rachel Berry. With a resigned huff, I pulled up a blank text and pulled at my bottom lip with my teeth.

-Ru Paul, it's Santana. I needs to ask a favor.

I waited a few moments, wondering if Yentil would text me back.

-One who is requiring a favor of another generally does not insult that person, but I expect nothing less from you, Satan. What can I help you with?

I rolled my eyes. How did she manage to be so simpering and superior all at once, even via text message?

-You probably heard I got transferred. Quinn too. So you have to help Britt.

Another pause. –How, precisely?

I frowned, sensing Rachel's arrogance even in those few words. I wanted to smash her ugly Jewish nose in. –Just help her study. Make sure she remembers to go to class. Keep her out of trouble.

-I'll try.

I was a little shocked at that response. I was expecting a 'I don't have time for that, Santana' or 'Why would I even bother?' So I was prepared to bribe. I was prepared to threaten. I was not prepared for the immediate kindness from Rachel Berry.

-Thanks.

That's all I could think to say. Well, it shouldn't surprise me that much – people love Brittany. Even if she's kind of a bitch to Rachel, most everyone finds her lovable and easy going. I sighed, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. For now, Britt would have some help. It would have to be enough.

I glanced up when I heard Quinn enter the room, her bare feet making a soft slapping noise against the glossy hardwood floors. I turned around slowly, hoping she had put clothes on before she left the bathroom. She had. She was wearing the full Atherton attire today, royal purple cardigan over longsleeved white dress shirt, plaid skirt. She sat down to pull on her stockings. Her hair was still wet, and was a golden maroon color. I studied her for a moment, head tilted to the side. My hand played idly over the flower I had laid on my desk last night, fingernail picking at the stem.

Quinn seemed lost in thought, first pulling on one stocking, then another. She slowly straightened up, her eyes a little glassy.

"Earth to Quinn," I said softly, and smiled when her eyes snapped to my face. "Did you sleep well, Cinderella?"

Quinn's grin caught me off guard. It was wicked and knowing, and it caused a lump to immediately form in my throat. My teasing smile died and my cheeks began to heat up.

"I should ask you the same question," Quinn murmured, enigmatically. My eyebrows flew up.

"What exactly does that mean?"

"Oh, just.." She chuckled quietly to herself, stood up, and rifled through her bag, pulling out a hairbrush and a hair dryer. "You sure do talk a lot in your sleep."

I scowled. "No way, Goldilocks."

Quinn made a little hmming noise in her throat, and was bent down near the head of her bed, plugging in the hair dryer. She had hung a full length mirror on the wall space between her bed and my desk. She quickly ran the brush through her hair, inclining her head to one side, probably trying to decide how to part her hair.

"Who ever would have thought Santana Lopez was a huge cuddler?" She said to her own reflection.

My eyeballs popped way open, and my jaw dropped, horrified. I was silent for a moment, the gears in my head creaking slowly. I looked over to my bed, and the pillow I had wedged between our bodies was smashed against the wall. "You're making it up." I said, my tone even.

Quinn smirked, slanted her gaze towards me, then clicked on the blow dryer.

I twisted my face into a scowl and then stood up, marching into the bathroom. I was sure to close the door completely behind me, but didn't bother locking it. What if she had to pee while I was showering? We needed to make some ground rules about things like that. If Quinn had locked the door this morning, I probably would've pissed myself. Not good.

I stripped and then stepped into the wet shower, turning the faucets on. I was relaxing beneath the warm spray before I realized I hadn't brought anything in with me – no towel, no clothes, not even my shampoo and conditioner, or body wash, or razors. I slapped my hand to my face with an audible smack, and groaned. How embarrassing was this? Kill me.

I let a few moments pass before I finally slid the shower door open and hollered, "Quinn!"

I waited, and when she opened the door I tucked myself back behind the glass, aware that it was only minimally opaque. "What, Santana?" She asked, her voice echoing dimly in the room.

"Uh, can you bring me a towel? I have one in my blue suitcase. And, uh, my shampoo and conditioner? Same bag."

There was a moment of silence, where I assumed Quinn had left the bathroom. I was turned towards the wall when a sharp knock made me jolt.

"Here," She said, opening the shower door herself and handing me the bottles of shampoo and conditioner. I nearly yelped from the shock of it, my hands – which were wet – fumbling for the items. I closed the door quickly, my heart beating super fast. "Thanks," I muttered, meekly.

I waited until I heard the door click shut before I laid my head against the tile of the shower, letting the water pour over me. I set the bottles on a ledge that was built into the wall and then just stood there, pressing my forehead against the tile, thinking. What is wrong with me?

I let my mind wander while I bathed, soaping my body with a bit of Quinn's body wash. It smelled like lavender, a scent I had been associating with her for the last few years. She and Britt had signature smells, something I never caught on to. I changed my shampoo, body wash, lotion and perfume with the month. Keeping everything the same gets boring.

Once I finished showering, I reached out and plucked the folded towel from the toilet lid, and scrubbed the water from my face and body. I wrapped the towel around me, stepped into the foggy bathroom, and opened the door.

Quinn was sitting at her own desk, her laptop open. It put her back to the majority of the room, but I could clearly see the side of her face. Her lips were set in a subtle smile, though her eyes stayed forward. I debated on taking my clothes back into the bathroom to change into them, but I hate getting dressed in a muggy bathroom. It always makes me feel sweaty and unclean, kinda like dressing in a sauna. My face was tight with irritation over it all; the whole thing with me snuggling and talking to Quinn in my sleep, me forgetting to get any toiletries before my shower, having to submit to Quinn seeing me naked.. most of all, annoyed that I even gave two shits to begin with. I mean, Quinn has seen me naked and in various stages of undress before.. more times than I could count. So why, why, why do I suddenly care about her seeing me naked, or me seeing her?

I ripped my towel off with a ferocity I hadn't intended, and I quickly pulled on panties and snapped a bra into place. I was scowling at the Atherton uniform, ripping my limbs through various holes in the clothing. I was glaring at the cardigan as I shoved buttons through their opposing loops, my hair in a towel turban on top of my head.

I hadn't looked Quinn's way before now, but I did then, because I noticed she had turned in her chair to watch me. Her eyes were slightly widened, her mouth quirked in one of those damnable looks that I had no idea how to read. It just made my sneer deepen. I reached up and ripped the towel off my head, my dark hair flying down in wet curls. With a huff, I smashed my cardigan over my head and then smoothed my hair back. "What?" I snapped at Quinn, who was still staring at me.

"Are you okay?" She asked, guardedly.

"Yeah! I'm fucking perfect!" I didn't mean to yell, but I was just so fucking peeved.

Quinn raised an eyebrow, and her nose curled into a look of anger. It was an expression I recognized – Quinn was getting prickly. "Well, who pissed in your Wheaties, Lopez?"

I really wanted to slap that smug, grumpy look off of Quinn's porcelain face. She looked fresh and well put together, her hair flat ironed, with the bangs clipped back on top of her head. She had put on a touch of makeup.

"Don't fucking push me, Fabray. I'm one second away from beating your ass," I spat, then turned and picked up my own hair brush and began to yank it through my hair.

"What the hell!" Quinn exploded, then pushed herself into a standing position and faced me. "Excuse me, but you're being unusually bitchy and for no damn reason!"

I saw red for a moment, and it took all my control not to swing at her. I turned, brandishing my hair brush like it was a weapon. "I'm warning you, Quinn. I'm not in the mood."

Her eyes were examining me with a look of downright wonder, but not the good kind – the kind where you're seeing something which makes no sense to you. "Okay, you bipolar bitch. I'll try to remember not to be nice to you first thing in the morning."

"Good! Fine! Just stop talking to me, period!" I swore, then gathered up my own blow dryer, flat iron, and makeup and stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

My eyes were glittering with anger as I fixed my hair for the day and applied make up. I could tell, now, in the quiet of the bathroom, that I had reacted poorly and inexplicably to Quinn. It made me more angry, but just because I was a little ashamed. Quinn really has been nothing but nice to me – she's pretty much the only reason I hadn't crawled the walls and disappeared into the woods surrounding Atherton by now.

By the time I was done primping and getting ready, my anger had cooled considerably and I was only just a bit irritated, and that was mostly with myself. Stupid, stupid girl, Santana. It was something my dad said to me sometimes, when I made the most obvious or blundering of mistakes. My face was pink, my lips set with resignation – I was going to have to apologize to her.

I opened the door and was relieved to find her still there, though she was reclining on her bed on top of the blankets. Her bed was neatly made, and her feet were crossed at the ankles. She was playing on her phone and didn't acknowledge me opening the door.

With a sigh, I approached her, my hands clasped in front of me because I was a little nervous. I didn't know how to do this – apologize. I almost never do.

I bit my lip and studied her for a moment, and without looking at me she simply raised an eyebrow, leaving her face blank. I gave in and sat down, then turned and laid down next to her. I was immediately more comfortable like this – I can't really say why; maybe just because we tended to communicate better lying next to each other. "I'm sorry, Quinn."

Her face pinched together, eyes narrowing as if that had been the last thing she expected me to say. She was playing Angry Birds on her phone. I smiled despite myself at that.

"You're such a nerd," I said without meaning to. She whipped her head around to stare at me, her mouth pressed into a thin line. I swallowed my own smile and returned her look of absolute seriousness.

"Okay, okay. Geeze. I really am sorry, all right? I know I was a hag. Crucify me already," I said, flinging my arms upward in a supplicating gesture. Her face finally softened and smirked a little.

"I'll chalk it up to your psychotic anger management problem," She said flatly, turning back to the game she was playing.

"But really, Fabray? Angry Birds? Who are you, Artie?" I teased, arching an eyebrow.

"Tell me you don't have it on your phone," She said, her tone even, without looking at me. I tucked my head against my chest and blushed silently. "Thought so."

Xxxx

A few hours later, we were sitting at a very fancy-looking table with two other Atherton girls, also juniors. This place was an extravagant dining hall, or maybe a ballroom – it had purple velvet wall hangings with the Atherton logo in cloth-of-silver on each wall, and the small four-person tables were decked out in the finest table cloths, with pewter silverware and heavy plates. I tried hard not to stare at the vulgar expense of it all, but Quinn was absolutely at home among such finery. I was considered wealthy in comparison to most of our friends, but I always knew Quinn had more money than I did. I bet her family ate at places like this all the time.

The other two girls were named Joy and Hannah. Joy had dark auburn hair with dazzling green eyes and a face full of freckles. She had a little bit more pudge than most of the girls here – she stuck out, just like I did. I decided to be nice to her. Hannah had glossy blonde hair in a sleek bob that made her look more like a walking poster child for anorexia than most, and her joints were clearly visible. She was full of harsh angles and her face was drawn and pinched. She ignored Quinn, Joy, and I.

We chatted amiably enough – or, well, Quinn did, while I just ate. The waitress brought us fresh orange juice, muffins, bagels, and our choice of main course. I decided to live dangerously and order strawberry crepes – Quinn got Belgian waffles. I couldn't help but feel like I was breaking some kind of rule as I bit into the cream cheese filled pastry, but it was delicious anyway.

Joy was a chatterbug, full of insightful and helpful information about Atherton. Quinn was so natural of a conversationalist, I just watched her, a little fascinated. There was no way I would ever be able to ingratiate myself that way – not unless I was really trying, and had some kind of ulterior motive. Don't get me wrong; I know I'm good at manipulating people, and can usually accomplish just about anything I want by preying on people's weaknesses. Quinn didn't have to do that to be outgoing or liked; she was simply friendly and polite, and had the most intrigued expression whenever the other person spoke. She made them really believe she was interested in what they had to say.

"Who is your homeroom teacher?" Joy chirruped around a bite of sausage.

"Burkes, I think," Quinn replied. That elicited a delighted squeal from Joy.

"Oh, me too! She's great, you'll love her." Joy grinned.

"Who do you have, Santana?" Quinn asked me, one in the long line of attempts she'd made to engage me in this conversation. I snapped my gaze to her face and then darted back to Joy, lost for a moment. Hannah raised her eyebrows in a conceited sneer. I wanted to punch her bitchy little face in.

Quinn saw my expression darken and tapped me urgently on the shin. I narrowed my eyes at her. "Hmm, I think Mosley," I said, but I couldn't really remember.

"Professor Mosley is nice," Joy offered, but was a lot less excited about it than she was about her and Quinn having the same homeroom. I shrugged.

The brunch was winding down, and all of our dishes had been cleared away, when a plump woman stepped up to a podium situated at the head of the room. She had frizzy curly brown hair and too much makeup on. She wore a deep purple pants suit with a silver-encrusted flower pinned to the lapel of the jacket, and a small hat on top of her curls. She tapped the microphone once and the room fell silent.

"Welcome back to another wonderful year at Atherton, girls!" She said with so much enthusiasm I had to roll my eyes. "I hope all of you had a great summer, and you're rested and ready to begin an exciting term with us!"

There was polite applause. Really? This place was unbelievable. If this lady had come to McKinley to make a speech, she would have got booed off the stage, and probably gotten things thrown at her. God, I miss that place.

"I just want to remind everyone that this is a very important year for you.. all of you have the option of signing up for double classes this year, with the option of gaining your diploma. If that is something you are interested in, please make sure you see our Junior Dean, Mrs. Sanders, before the end of the first week of class."

She shuffled around a few papers she had stacked on the podium, and pulled on a pair of petite reading glasses. "Try outs for varsity track will be this Thursday at 4 p.m. sharp. Mrs. Holiday is holding auditions for The Vox on Wednesday, starting at 3. Please place your name on the signup sheet if you're interested. Those of you who want to rejoin the Equestrian Club need to make sure your parents have signed a permission slip." The woman cleared her throat and read on, droning on about the soccer team, the swimming team, the dance club, the jazz club..

Quinn had turned her face slightly and caught my eye when mentions about auditions were made. I shrugged indifferently; why not? Here, there was no stigma associated with that five letter word – glee. Here, we weren't social ladder climbing cheerleaders with a demented need to rise to the top. Here, there were no boys to impress or girls to dominate. I had intended to survive this school year and get back to Lima as quickly as possible, that's all. This stupid school didn't even have a football time, for Chrissakes.

The woman, one of the several vice principals, was named Mrs. Lawton. She was cheerful and enthusiastic, and everyone stood up abuzz with genuine interest in the things she had said. Quinn hooked her arm through Joy's as we stood and exited the dining hall, me trailing slightly behind her. She had her head tilted down slightly so she could better hear the shorter girl's words, and she laughed quietly at something she said.

Quinn is so flawless, I thought, and then started at my own musing. No way! I jerked my head around guiltily, then calmed down when I realized it had just been something I thought about, instead of said. The crowd was dispersing around us, and Quinn was walking with Joy. I began to fall behind, until finally I disengaged myself from them and turned abruptly to head in the opposite direction. Quinn was probably going to spend the rest of the day schmoozing Joy, so that she had another friend here besides me. I didn't begrudge her for it. Kudos to Quinn, making friends. She wouldn't be able to survive without them, anyway. Even if at some point she hated Rachel, Quinn was still a lot like her – she needed attention to live.

I headed outside, because since it was just now nearing 12:30 the day was still pretty brisk. It had a touch of crispness in the air that heralded the coming fall, but the sun was bright and the sky was a cloudless blue. I made my way over to an abandoned picnic table and sat down, digging around in my purse for a pen. I had brought a notebook with me to the brunch, just in case you need to take notes, Quinn advised. I hadn't, but I was glad I had it now – since it saved me a four-story climb back upstairs to get some paper.

I flipped the notebook open and then began writing on the blank page. It was supposed to be a letter to Brittany, and because of that I had meant to keep it to one page or so. But the words came tumbling out of my pen and before I knew it, it wasn't really a letter to Britt – more of a collection of thoughts and feelings. I reread the sheets once I realized what I was doing, and was completely astounded at what I had written.

I mean, how fucked up in the head am I? How am I going to address a letter to Brittany, the only girl in the world that I love more than myself, and tell her about how I might be developing – something – for Quinn Fabray? I knew I would never send this to Britt, though she was the one person who I was dying to talk to about Tinkerbell.

I groaned, pressing the palms of my hands into my eyes, scrubbing my eyes harshly. Shit! I jerked my hands away from my face and then stared in dismay at the smudge of makeup I found there. Wonderful. I bet I look like a raccoon now.

I grumbled, flipped to a clean sheet, and then began the letter to Brittany again.

Quinn's shadow fell across my page a few moments later, and I stalled my writing to glance up at her. She was silhouetted by the sun and was wearing a curious smile on her face. "Here you are. What are you doing?"

I shrugged, gesturing to the paper. "Writing Britt a letter. I told her we'd be like pen pals this year."

Quinn's smile broadened at that, and she sat down opposite me. "You really miss her, don't you?"

The honest interest in those words caught me off guard, and I just nodded, blinking hard. Yes, I miss her, like I miss my own heart.

Quinn's expression changed, though I hadn't said anything – had I? Oh shit. My face fell and my mouth hung open. Crap, crap, had I said that out loud?

Quinn reached across the space between us and placed her hands over mine, as if sensing my immediate panic. "It's okay," she whispered, though there wasn't anyone around. "I get it, Santana. It's okay."

I sucked in a heavy, ragged breath, and then let it go, refusing to meet her eyes. I just tapped the pen against the paper, completely drawing a blank on what to write next.

"I don't know why you didn't tell me sooner," Quinn said a few moments later. I raised an eyebrow at her and pressed my face into a scowl.

"Whatever you're implying about us, Blondie, you're dead wrong," I said, acid dripping from my words.

Quinn hmmed deep in her throat again. "No. I really think I'm not. But I still l-love you," Her voice caught a little bit on the word 'love,' but she plowed past it. "And so will everyone else. It doesn't make me think anything different about you. You're still just Satan Lopez." She tried to grin at me.

My eyebrows were lowered and scrunched together, and my face was pinched and glaring. "There's nothing different to think about, Quinn. At all. So just drop it."

She shrugged, but I knew by her expression that she wasn't going to forget about it. A few uncomfortable minutes passed between us before she shifted and tried to change the subject.

"So Joy is a nice person. She says she sings for the Vox group and that Ms. Holiday is a really nice lady." Quinn smiled, only a hint of mockery in her tone. "Everyone here is really nice or really great."

I scoffed. "What, she didn't say anything about you looking like Pink with that hair of yours?" I was a little perturbed that no one had said anything to Quinn about it yet.

Quinn raised her brow. "No, actually, she says there's always a few people who dye their hair crazy. She says she wishes she had the courage to do it." Quinn shrugged.

I rolled my eyes. "So that little stunt didn't work according to plan," I said, dryly. I turned to the letter in front of me and then just began doodling, because I knew Britt would probably appreciate that more than my words.

Quinn was quiet for a moment, before she reached out again and laid her fingers atop my scribbling hand. I raised a brow and then met her gaze. She just held her fingers there for a moment, gave me a little squeeze, and pulled away. I shrugged. What the hell was going on with all of that?

"Do you want to do something fun today? Go swimming?" Quinn asked.

"No," I answered immediately. I had no desire to prance around in a two piece for other girls, who probably had memberships to gyms and tanning salons. I raised my gaze, glancing around the campus for a moment.

"We could go in the woods? Like, just walk around? It's creepy that we're never really alone here. It weirds me out." I hadn't even realized that until now, but it was sickeningly true. I'm an only child, and both my parents work overtime, so I'm more than used to being alone. At Atherton there's always somebody around you, even when you're in your dorm room there's a huge mass of girls surrounding you. So, so creepy.

Quinn lifted her face into a look that meant she was unsure, but I just smiled and hopped up. "C'mon, Goldilocks. It'll be fun. You can teach me about flowers and stuff," I offered her my hand, and she took it, standing up slowly.

"Santana, I know next to nothing about flowers," she said, musingly, while we walked towards the woods that edged in on all sides of the grass.

"That's okay. That's still more than I know."

A/N: I have a much more exciting chapter planned next, so bear with me.