Real life sucks. And yes. I'm still writing Sing It Stronger.

Pulling up to Quinn's house, Santana spotted the blonde waiting for her through the front window, pretty quickly opening the front door and approaching the car. Santana rolled down the window. "Hey, Blondie!" she ducked the automatic poke from Rachel in the passenger seat and smirked at her before turning it back onto Quinn, "Gets in. We're gettin' food."

Stopping a couple of feet from the car, Quinn raised her eyebrows. "You're paying?" she asked skeptically.

Frowning and about to immediately answer negatively, Santana thought better of it. She quickly ran through what her bank account looked like. "…Fine. We's can get you something off the Value Menu."

"Santana." Rachel glared at her, "I am sincerely hoping you are being sarcastic. May I remind you that you still need to finish feeding me?" She leaned towards Santana. "And by feeding me, I mean something substantial."

…Probably with bacon. Santana smiled, then lifted a hand to pinch Rachel's cheek and move her head back and forth. "Aren't you adorable?" she teased, "My little bottomless pit."

"Oh god," Quinn muttered, looking like she might retch, "I don't think I want to get into the car anymore."

"Oh get your ass in here," Santana challenged, grinning when Rachel reached up to pull Santana's hand away, squeezing her wrist not-so-nicely.

Her girlfriend glared at her. "For that," she huffed dramatically, dropping Santana's hand and shoving her hair behind her shoulder, turning to look out the windshield, "I want Outback Steakhouse. I do not appreciate being treated like a child." Legit, her chin jutted out, and she crossed her arms. Santana knew she probably shouldn't be enjoying it as much as she was… Especially since her wallet was going to pay for it.

"Bloomin' Onion!" Quinn cheered uncharacteristically giddily, hopping into Santana's car and slamming the door shut behind her. Quickly buckling up in the seat behind Rachel, she paused. "Wait. Rachel. Aren't you vegan? Yeah. Santana. How do you not starve with her? And… Do they even have vegan food?"

…Yeah. It was always about the vegan diet, wasn't it?

Seemingly not interested in answering, Rachel continued staring stubbornly out the windshield.

Rolling her eyes affectionately, Santana dropped a loud kiss to Rachel's cheek and started up the car. "Whatever. I make do." Though, to be completely honest, now that Rachel was eating whatever she was craving, it was easier for Santana to find things to eat. But she knew better than to say that.

Rachel's 'bad mood' didn't last long. Sliding into the booth and immediately taking Santana's hand as she slid in after her, she beamed up at the waitress. "Good evening," she happily accepted a menu, not even waiting for it to hit the table before chirping out, "A Bloomin' Onion and iced tea, please."

Raising an eyebrow, Quinn clasped her hands together on the tabletop. "Iced tea sounds good for me, too, thank you."

Actually taking the time to flip her menu over and glance over the offered drinks, Santana shrugged. "Sure. Me too."

The waitress nodded. "Okay. I'll be back quick with your drinks. Anything else before then? Okay, great."

Idly watching the waitress walk off, Santana started stroking Rachel's hand under the table, circling her knuckles with her thumb. She smirked, leaning down to whisper in her girlfriend's ear, "Your ass is better."

"And why are you looking at another girl's ass?" Rachel gave her an unamused look.

"Because she was walking away?"

Frowning, Rachel looked at her pointedly, tweaking one of her fingers. "Watch yourself."

Santana smiled. "Of course." Squeezing Rachel's hand, she kissed her cheek and turned her attention towards Quinn. "So. Q."

"Hmm? I'm not getting involved in your weird verbal foreplay. It's your decision if you want to add another girl, not mine. And no. I'm not volunteering myself, either."

Before Santana could answer, Rachel surprised her by tilting her head and asking, "Do you know anyone who would volunteer?"

Santana's mouth dropped open. "Rache?"

"Oh, hush." Glancing at Santana and smiling, Rachel stroked her thumb. "You look at waitresses. I get to be curious about who would wish to join in for a ménage a trois. To paraphrase you, 'Because Quinn brought it up?'"

But…! That…! Santana sighed. "Fine," she grunted, "Jus' so long it's jus' questioning. Go ahead, Fabray. Answer her."

Annoyingly, Quinn ignored her warning glare. The blonde rolled her eyes. "Well, we've already ruled me out – "

"So you say," Santana snorted, and Quinn glared at her.

"I do say. Anyway. I can't speak for Mercedes, but Tina has checked the both of you out several times, Brittany's mentioned how hot the both of you are, and I wouldn't be surprised if there were numerous Cheerios or unpopular girls who wanted one or both of you. And don't get me started on the boys…"

Rachel let out what sounded like a giggle-snort. "Oh, I'd say we have enough 'male' presence in our relationship."

Rachel!

"Oh god." Quinn made a disgusted expression. "Don't tell me about your strap-on games, okay?" She pulled her silverware closer to her, arranging them around her tabletop space, "I really don't want to know about your sex life. How many times do I have to say it? Really. I don't."

Moving her glare from Rachel and morphing it into a forced smirk that quickly turned into a real one, Santana leaned forward. "Quinn Fabray," she pitched her voice into one of awe, "Was that really the word 'strap-on' leaving your lips? So, how long have you been imagining Rachel and mine's sex life? Don't want to talk about it because you're fantasizing, huh? You're not fooling anyone, Fagay."

Quinn's eyes widened, and then they narrowed. "Shut up, Lopez!" she snapped, leaning forward to meet her, "You're just upset I won't have a threesome with you. Admit it!"

"Hah, you're delusional if you think I want in on you, Still-Tubbers."

"Tubbers?" Rachel's voice cut into Quinn's response, and Santana froze.

Shit. She was not handling predicting Rachel's mood swings well.

Closing her eyes, Santana tried to brace herself for what she would see on her girlfriend's face. "Rache," she tried to modulate her voice, slowly turning her head, "You know that's just my affectionate nickname for Q."

"Really."

Oh, fuck. Rachel didn't look amused at all. "And that a woman in the flush of pregnancy is one of the most amazingly beautiful – "

"Liar!" Rachel's voice lashed out harshly. Tears swam in her eyes, and she snatched her hand from Santana's. "You… You did this to me, and you're not going to want to touch me? Because I'll be Tubbers 2.0?"

"What?" Sneaking a quick glance at Quinn, wincing at the total look of confusion on her face, Santana scooted over, wrapping her hand around Rachel's arm. "Rache, babe." She lowered her voice, hating herself for not fucking thinking, "You are going to be absolutely breathtaking. You're already breathtaking. Quinn? She's not you. So, yeah, I called her Tubbers. But you? Rache, you're my Rachel, my girl. You're going to be having my baby." Pausing, heart squeezing when she noticed a tear slipping from the corner of Rachel's eye, Santana cupped the smaller girl's hip, pulling her into a tight, sideways hug; she pressed a kiss to Rachel's forehead, "And you'll continue to be the most beautiful woman the whole way through."

She meant every fucking word.

Rachel's face crumpled, and she turned her head towards Santana, pressing her forehead into Santana's cheek. "I'm sorry," she breathed in deeply, arms sliding around Santana's waist, "I r-really don't think you're that sha-shallow."

Letting air out of her mouth, Santana nodded, pulling Rachel closer. "I know, babe," she whispered, stroking her hair, "Though I don't mind tellin' you how beautiful you are." She grinned at the poke to her midsection that got her. "What?" she asked, "You are."

Groaning, Rachel huffed. "…Quinn's staring at me, isn't she?" she whispered.

Santana flicked her eyes up. Quinn was studiously rearranging her silverware again, eyes downcast as she chewed on the crease of her lower lip, eyebrows furrowed together high on her forehead. Ohh godddd… This was not how Santana wanted this to go. Sighing, she squeezed Rachel. "It's cool. She's being almost nice."

That made Quinn snort, and Santana managed a covering smirk as the blonde's eyes looked up to meet hers. Feeling Rachel slowly pull back, Santana kept a hold on her to slide down and take her hand, wrapping her arm back around her waist as Rachel settled into her side.

"So…" Santana sighed again. She met Quinn's eyes. Feeling her face getting tight, she tried, "Threesome?"

"Uh uhn, no," Quinn answered firmly, pushing her silverware away from herself as she looked back and forth between Rachel and Santana. "Rachel." She licked her lips, looking around before lowering her voice, asking almost accusingly, "You're pregnant?"

"….And here we go," their waitress suddenly appeared again, beaming at them, "Iced tea, a Bloomin' Onion and bread. Need more time deciding?"

"Yes," Santana snapped, having to smirk when Quinn and Rachel also snapped it at the same time, Rachel sighing and offering somewhat more calmly, "I'm sorry, but yes, we would like some time."

The waitress blinked, then nodded. "Sure… I'll be back in a bit. Take all the time you need." And she practically ran off. Santana made sure to keep her eyes on Quinn. You know. Just to be safe. As well as try to read her expression… Which seemed to be some kind of splotchy red and white shocked anger. Ohh god… Santana's stomach hurt.

Rachel dipped her head, then squeezed Santana's hand before letting it go. Pulling an appetizer plate towards herself, she reached for the Bloomin' Onion. Concentrating completely on pulling some of the pieces off and dipping them into the sauce, shoulders high and tight, Rachel nodded. "Yes," her eyes flicked up to meet Quinn's, "I am."

Quinn stared at her. Her mouth moving, she paused, raised a hand, paused again, raised her pointer finger, and then pushed her other hand against the line of her scalp and forehead. "Seriously?" she hissed. After a second, "How?"

Santana cleared her throat. "You see, Q," she started, leaning on her forearms on the table top, forcing herself to seem nonchalant, "When two people are in love, they like to do things with each other. Or, as in your case, get drunk and bone the first person they see."

"Oh my god, shut. Up," Quinn rolled her eyes violently, shaking her head, "No, no, Santana. Rachel. I – wait, this!" Starting to snap her fingers, Quinn sat back, pointing at Santana, "This! This is why you've been so stressed out!"

Holding up her hands, palms up, Santana frowned at her and sat back, crossing her arms. "You want a prize?"

"San." Rachel's hand was back on her thigh, and Santana immediately covered it with her own. "Please don't make this a battle of dominance."

…Yeah, yeah it was. Sighing, Santana met Rachel's eyes, nodding. "You're right," she admitted, making her shoulders relax, reaching for her own appetizer plate.

"And this is why you need to crash at my house?" Giving in to the peer pressure, Quinn pulled the last appetizer plate towards herself, splitting her attention from it and the Bloomin' Onion to Santana and Rachel, "Because Rachel's pregnant…?" She paused, eyes widening, "You're not pregnant too, are you? This isn't one of those pregnancy pacts, right?"

Rachel shook her head, answering the blonde's question after chewing and swallowing her bite of onion, "She's not pregnant."

"Okay, I'm not getting this." Looking down at the table, Quinn's free hand went back to her forehead, holding her head up with her elbow on the table; her other hand brandished a Bloomin' Onion spike, sauce dripping off of it, "Rachel's pregnant. Santana's kicked out. I'm not making light of this." She looked up, intently meeting Rachel's eyes, "But wouldn't it be the other way around?"

Santana clenched her jaw. Only after Rachel squeezed her hand was she able to growl out, "It's my fault."

"You made Rachel sleep with a guy?" Quinn gave her a disgusted, disbelieving look, and Santana instantly felt the impulse to lunge over the table and slap her for even suggesting that, and it was only Rachel's fingernails digging into her skin that stopped her. Quinn was incredibly fucking lucky Rachel was there.

Reading her expression, Quinn backpedaled a bit… In the wrong direction. She turned to Rachel. "You cheated on her?" she dropped her voice, accusing, "Who was it? Puck? Finn? Someone else?"

"It was me," Santana snapped, not capable of hearing any more of this, leaning forward to glare directly into Quinn's eyes, unable to hold back the tears and strain in her voice as the gravity of what she was saying started to sink in, "It was me. Okay? I did it. I knocked her up."