A/N: 11,000 words in 15 days. Amazing what having three days off from work can do!
"So what's the plan for today, ladies?" Maria chirps as she enters the kitchen, Lola nipping on her heels, as usual. She has taken quite a liking to Santana's mother, much to Maria's chagrin; she had never been much of an animal person. At least Lord Tubbington the III (or was it the IV? She could never remember), spent most of his time sleeping, eating, and looking miserable. In other words, he stayed out of Maria's business. Santana and Brittany both look tired and not amused by Maria's cheery morning demeanor. Nico was getting over a cold and had been keeping them up and Santana's worried she's going to come down with it too. She's always been a bit of a hypochondriac.
"I have three clients this morning before lunch," Santana says, her hand on Olivia's forehead, evidently checking her temperature. Olivia swats at her mother, trying to eat her banana in peace.
"Just like her mami," Brittany says, giggling. "I have to work on the choreography for that music video I start tomorrow," Brittany says, looking over at Maria. "So, I'll be in my studio all morning."
"I wanted to catch a yoga class around lunch," Maria says.
"Quinn's coming for lunch today, mama, so we can watch the babies," Santana says. "I'm going to go get dressed and take the dog out," she says, taking a bite of Olivia's banana, much to her daughter's dismay.
"Don't eat the children's food, San," Brittany says, giggling. She's still chuckling to herself as Santana leaves the kitchen, so she doesn't notice the odd look her mother-in-law is giving her. She raises her eyebrows at Maria.
"Why does my daughter need to get dressed to take the dog out?" She asks Brittany, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Brittany buckles the clasps on Nico's overalls. He recently figured out how to unclasp them himself, to his unending amusement.
"She wants to look good for that hot actress who lives across the street. She thinks I don't know," Brittany says, rolling her eyes and chuckling at her wife's vanity.
"That girl will never change," Maria says, shaking her head. Brittany nods in agreement.
"She's silly. Every time the woman talks to her she just stutters and blushes and then feels guilty." Brittany laughs. "Your mami's crazy," she says, patting Nico on his head.
"Crazy mami," he says giggling at his other mother.
"Good, boy!" Brittany coos, raising her hand up for a high five that Nico happily reciprocates. "You have to remember that one!" She laughs, before returning to her cup of tea and the newspaper.
Quinn is her lawyer's office again, a spot that has quickly become one of her least favorites.
"So, I think it's settled," her lawyer says to her. "Mr. Scott's lawyer sent the paperwork over today; Mr. Scott has already signed it. As per our discussion, you'll split the profits from the sale of the house in Beverly Hills, you'll keep the house in Big Bear, and he'll keep the one in Florida. You'll retain ownership of the BMW, Mr. Scott will retain ownership of the rest of the vehicles. Furthermore, Mr. Scott will owe you spousal support and child support of $4,297,447.35 yearly, to cover your living expenses since you've been reliant on Mr. Scott for the last ten years, support to be readjusted in five years pending Mr. Scott's income," he says. Quinn can't help but wince at the words 'reliant'. "This will also cover the day to day expenses for the girls and their tuition at Crossroads. All you need to do, Ms. Fabray, is sign the document." Quinn signs the papers in a daze and shakes her lawyer's hand. She leaves the office and puts her sunglasses back on and drives to Santana and Brittany's, in her BMW that was now just hers. She walks into Santana's house and half-hears her ranting about how fucking annoying Puck was being with this new movie and what a dick the head of the studio is. She pours too much milk in her coffee and doesn't even notice that Nico is getting snot all over one of her favorite dresses. She isn't even sure when Nico left his mother's arms and ended up in her own.
"Okay, Fabray. What's going on? You've been awkwardly quiet for too long." Santana says, brandishing the knife she'd been cutting a tomato with in Quinn's direction.
"I just signed my divorce papers." Quinn whispers. Santana's face softens.
"Why didn't you say something earlier?" Santana says, placing the knife on the cutting board and wiping her hands on a towel before she takes a seat next to Quinn. She takes her son into her arms, gently wiping his long curls away from his eyes.
"I don't know," Quinn shrugs. "I expected to feel some sort of relief, but it really is all just sad, you know?" Santana nods, nuzzling her nose into Nico's hair. He's happily babbling and banging a spoon incessantly on the table. "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy that it's over, and I know this was the right decision for me and the girls and Justin and things seem to be going so well with Rachel…it's still just sad, you know? One day you are in love and sharing your life with someone and making plans for the future…and the next you're signing papers divvying up who owns what and what days you can see the kids. It's just hard to see the bright side of divorce."
"Of course, Q. I think the bright side is that you hated one another and he was a cheating asshole and you're better off without him," Santana says simply, covering Nico's ears as she says 'asshole'. Quinn rolls her eyes.
"I know. I know that. I just…I knew I would be sad. That's why I asked to come to lunch today. I just needed something normal, I guess. You guys are my normal, as strange as that sounds."
"You know B and I are always here for you, right?"
"Of course, Santana," Quinn says softly, taking Nico back from Santana and grabbing a tissue from her purse to wipe his slightly dripping nose. Santana rises and continues working on their lunch in silence.
"Quinn!" Brittany yelps, gripping Quinn in a tight, over the shoulder, hug as soon as she walks through the sliding door into their kitchen. She leans over Quinn to give Nico a quick kiss on the head.
"Britt…you're gross." Quinn says, recoiling from the hug. "You're like super sweaty."
"Sorry, Q, I was working in the studio," Brittany says, walking over to Santana and wrapping her arms around her from behind. She places a sweaty kiss on Santana's cheek.
"This looks delicious, honey. I'm starving."
"Hungry and smelly," Santana says, leaning back to kiss Brittany on the lips. She taps Brittany's nose as she scrunches it up in displeasure.
"Why is everyone so glum in here?" She asks, finally picking up on the mood in the room. "And where is Olivia?" Santana nods over to the door of the kitchen where Olivia and Lola are gazing at one another lovingly through the doggy/baby gate. Santana looks over at Quinn.
"I signed my divorce papers today," Quinn says.
"Oh, Quinn, I'm so sorry," Brittany says, quickly taking a seat next to her.
"I'm okay." Quinn says softly as Brittany traces small circles on her back.
"It's okay if you're not, you know. You are doing such and amazing job moving on with your life, but Justin was a huge part of it for years. He's the father of your children. It's okay to feel a sense of loss."
"Thanks, B," Quinn says, resting her head on Brittany's shoulder. "But I don't want to bring everybody down, I wanted to have lunch to take a break from feeling bad about myself."
"I think that's smart," Brittany says, jumping up. "I'm going to hop in the shower for a second, I'll be back down before you know it!"
"Okay, B," Santana says with a grin. Brittany straightens the headband on Olivia's head as she hops over the baby/dog gate and heads upstairs.
They eat mostly in silence, unable to break the dismal mood around the table. Nico begins to babble when he drops his spoon on the table and Santana picks it up and walks into the house, returning moments later with a new one.
"You're such a germaphobe," Brittany says, her eyes full of adoration. Santana rolls her eyes, and hands the spoon to Nico. She buckles his overalls and runs her hand through his long dark curls, watching him proudly use his spoon to feed himself his macaroni and cheese. Brittany has momentarily forgotten her own lunch, choosing to watch Santana and Nico interact instead.
"Yummy?" Santana asks. He nods.
"Mami want cheese?" He asks, holding his spoon out to Santana in his tightly curled fist. Santana opens her mouth and he makes a vroom noise as he feeds his mother. Santana smacks her lips loudly on the bland macaroni and cheese, sending Nico into a fit of giggles.
"Feed mami!" He laughs. Santana laughs too and then wipes his face off with a napkin, retuning to her salad. Brittany grasps Santana's hand and kisses the back of it. Santana looks at her, her eyebrows scrunched together, and Brittany just shrugs. Neither notice that Quinn has started to quietly cry into her salad.
"You have to never screw this up," she whispers. Brittany and Santana's heads jump up to look at Quinn.
"What?" Santana asks, her eyes narrowing at first but then softening when she sees Quinn's tears.
"I mean…" Quinn says, taking a deep breath, "even if I never figure my stuff out, if I'm too selfish, too broken to ever find happiness, it makes me happy to be around you two. At least I can live vicariously through you, so don't screw it up, okay?" Brittany drops her fork and grasps Quinn's hand.
"No cry," Olivia says softly, gazing sadly at Quinn.
"Oh, I'm sorry, baby," Quinn says, looking at her wide-eyed niece. "No more crying," she says.
"You're not broken," Brittany says softly.
"Yeah, Q," Santana says, "you are figuring your stuff out. You just went on a great date with Rachel, your daughters are all happy and healthy…"
"I know, it's just…today was just hard. It just adds to the list of things that I have failed at." They all sit silently as Quinn collects herself.
"So…" Brittany begins, eyeing Santana nervously. "I was thinking, maybe we should go out this weekend. You know, instead of mourning your loss, celebrating your newfound freedom, Q! Just you, me, San and Rach."
"No way I'm going out with Berry again," Santana says, matter-of-fact. "Remember when we took her to Jumbo's?"
"We all had fun!" Brittany says.
"Justin does have the girls this weekend," Quinn begins, sniffling a bit and taking a deep breath. "It would be a nice way of getting the fact that my husband is now utilizing his visitation rights with his own daughters off of my mind. It just sounds so clinical." Brittany looks over at Santana.
"We would still need to find sitters for these two," Santana says.
"We have plenty of sitters, Santana. Your mom, Kurt and Sam, Mercedes and James, my sister and her platonic girlfriend…"
"Isn't she like in finals or something?"
"I doubt that girl is doing any studying in college," Brittany says.
"Okay. On one condition." Brittany and Quinn raise their eyebrows at Santana. "I want to go gay."
"We haven't done that in ages," Brittany says, a twinkle in her eye. "I feel so old. I don't even know what or where the lesbian nights are these days."
"I'll do some research tonight, but since you're new to the world of Sapphic love, Q, there's no way around it. We're taking you to a lezzie bar." Quinn isn't sure whether to groan or to grin so instead she shoves some lettuce in her mouth to avoid making a decision either way.
In the end, the only one who is available to baby-sit is Brittany's sister, who is, of course, more than happy to help. Santana's pretty sure it's mostly because she's a broke college student so staying at her sister's house means full access to a stocked kitchen and cable TV. Maria is going on another non-date with the gentleman from her salsa class, Mercedes is on bed-rest, and Kurt and Sam are in San Francisco for the weekend. Gracie is cuddled up with the twins and Daisy when Santana walks into the living room watching some trash reality show on MTV.
"Turn this garbage off when the kids are awake, okay Gracie?" Santana says, clasping her earring as she walks into the living room.
"Whatever, Santana," Gracie says, not tearing her eyes away from TV. "This show will be very educational about teaching your children how not to be when they're teenagers; i.e. not like their mothers' were."
"Look, I know the mouth Tiffany has on her, and the show stays off when the kids are awake." Santana says, crossing her arms.
"I see someone watches the show," Gracie says, turning off the TV and turning around to look at Santana. "And, damn, Santana, you clean up nice! You going into Weho or something? Get your lez on?" Santana raises an eyebrow at Grace.
"As a matter of fact, we are, Gracie," Brittany says, walking into the room and putting her arm around Santana's face. "I think the other Pierce was accurate," she says, looking at Santana. "Damn." Brittany kisses Santana on the lips and Gracie scrunches up her face.
"You two are gross," she says, "can you at least try and keep the sexual tension at bay when your little sister is in the room? And your children?" Santana rolls her eyes, and picks up Olivia.
"I'll protect you from your crazy aunt," she says into Olivia's ear. "Now, ladies," she says, standing in front of the TV, facing Grace and Daisy, "You both have our cell phone numbers. I put Quinn and Rachel's on the fridge, along with my mother's, the restaurant, the bar, and the pediatrician. You can help yourself to anything in the fridge, but lay off the alcohol until the kids are asleep, and don't get drunk in case there's an emergency. The guest bedroom is made up downstairs for you two. These are the baby monitors," she says, pointing to the devices sitting on the end table. "Put one in each room and keep one in your bedroom, and keep the volume at least at five. The babies need to be in bed in thirty minutes, they've already been fed and had their baths. Nico needs his rain machine to sleep, otherwise he'll be up all night." The doorbell rings in the middle of Santana's rant and Brittany gets up to answer it. Santana can hear Rachel and Quinn walking into the room, but she continues her instructions. "Diapers are underneath the changing tables in each room, Olivia won't sleep without her ducky, and Nico won't sleep without Mr. Blanky. Lola was walked, but she probably will need to be walked again around ten, just around the block is fine, and my mother may be home by then. I also have written up all of these instructions on the refrigerator next to the phone numbers."
"Jesus, Santana, you'd think I'd never babysat my niece and nephew before."
"I'm just being thorough," she defends.
"Okay, Santana, I think it's time we get this sho
w on the road. We have 7:45 dinner reservations." Brittany says, clapping her hands together. They kiss both kids goodbye and head out the door.
"I can't believe you've dragged me here again," Quinn yells over the bass, three hours later.
"You've been here before?" Rachel asks, flabbergasted.
"In college. They used to drag me to their lesbian shit all the time. You know, Santana was friends with a few lesbian cheerleaders on our squad and she was in the GSA so I tended to tag along."
"And love them, might I add," Santana said.
"It's true," Brittany says. "I mean, you did beg us to buy you shots of fun on your 21st birthday."
"They're making that up," Quinn says.
"Na-uh," Santana says. "She begged multiple people to buy her shots of fun, and ended up getting three by the end of the night."
"What's a shot of fun?" Rachel asks, nervously.
"It's when you pay one of the bartenders twenty dollars and they pour the shot in their mouth and then kiss it to you."
"Is that legal?"
"Everything is legal at Truckstop." Santana says. "Wait until the bartenders start dancing on top of the bar. Listen for the sirens. It's pretty epic."
"I love this place," Brittany says, obviously eyeing an African-American bartender with a huge afro in a black bikini.
"I know you do, baby," Santana says, taking her wife's face and redirected it to her. She possessively kisses Brittany on the lips. "Just remember, I put a ring on it."
"I can't help that I have a thing for women of color with fake boobs," Brittany says.
"You think that girl's boobs are fake?" Santana asks, seeming genuinely interested.
"Totally. I know fake boobs when I see them. I'm like a Doctor in Boobology," Brittany says as they walk toward the bar.
"I know you are." Santana says, gently cupping Brittany's breasts playfully.
"Santana Pierce-Lopez! Inappropriate!"
"Nothing is inappropriate here," Santana says, simply. "I need four rounds of Tequila shots," she says to the hot, black bartender. She leans back into Brittany who is standing behind her. "Twenty bucks says her gazongas are real."
"You're on. Although I can think of better winnings," Brittany says, winking. "Don't mess with the doctor." Santana grins.
"I'll take you up on that bet, Mrs. Pierce-Lopez," Santana says, kissing Brittany lightly on the lips. She looks over her shoulder. "You think those two are going to make it through the night?" Santana asks, gesturing over to Quinn and Rachel who still look a little shell-shocked.
"Questionable," Brittany says. "But it will be fun to see them try."
Brittany is dancing and, as usual, has a three foot radius around her. Quinn and Rachel are nearby, but on opposite sides of Brittany. Neither know what the boundaries are now that they're trying this new dating-friendship thing, so it seems the both of them have opted to awkwardly avoid eye contact and all forms of touching, instead clutching to the Hurricane's Santana bought for them as though their lives depended on it. Brittany rolls her eyes at the two girls on either sides of her. There's a brunette with a faux-hawk at the bar staring at her, and she decides she's had enough of this.
"Where's Santana?" Brittany asks Rachel and Quinn.
"Bathroom," Quinn says.
"Bar," Rachel says. Brittany rolls her eyes and goes with her instinct to the patio.
"Santana Pierce-Lopez!" Brittany says, her arms across her chest as she approaches Santana. "I can't believe you! What do you think you're doing?" Santana blushes as her wife stomps toward her. The girl she was talking to quickly shrinks into the background.
"Nothing." Santana says, sheepishly.
"Smoking," Brittany says.
"No, I wasn't." Santana says, eyeing the still burning cigarette on the ground. "Was I smoking, Lindsay?" Santana asks the girl behind her.
"No," the girl squeaks out.
"Lindsay, this is my wife Brittany. Brittany, this is Lindsay."
"Nice to meet you, Brittany," Lindsay says, suddenly exuding a confidence she hadn't had before. "You're every bit as gorgeous as Santana said you were," Santana looks smugly at Brittany over her drink.
"Don't try to sugar talk me out of being mad that you fed my wife cancer sticks. What am I going to say to our children when you die, Santana?"
"Woah, you have children?" Lindsay asks.
"Two," Santana beams. Brittany could swear that Santana's hand was reaching to pull her phone out of her pocket to show off pictures of their children before Lindsay cuts her off.
"I thought you were going to proposition me for a threesome. And trust me, I'd love to be between you two…"
"No!" Santana says, turning fully around to look at Lindsay, appalled. "I just wanted a cigarette!" Lindsay looks disappointed and then annoyed.
"I knew you were smoking," Brittany says, looking at Santana smugly with a hint of disappointment.
"I'm going back to the dance floor," Lindsay says. They barely notice the woman storming past them.
"You know, you can't just flirt with random women to get cancer sticks, Santana. You're really hot. It hurts their feelings." Brittany says, slowly approaching Santana and resting her hands on her waist, nuzzling their noses together.
"I'm just glad to know I still have it," Santana says, shrugging her shoulders.
"Oh trust me, you still have it, honey. When you don't stink like cigarettes, at least. Let's go dance." Brittany says, scrunching her nose up instead of kissing her. She takes both of Santana's hands and leads her back toward the dance floor.
"Sorry I smoked, Britt-Britt," Santana says, leaning forward as they walk to kiss the back of her wife's neck.
"It's not okay, Santana," Brittany says, turning her head over her shoulder as they hover in the doorway of the bar. "But I wants to get my dance on, okay?" Brittany says.
"Your wish is my demand," Santana says, nodding her head definitively at Brittany.
Rachel and Quinn are dancing together, sort of, their bodies just out of touching distance. They're both trying to avoid eye contact, meaning that they both are awkwardly looking at the floor. Santana and Brittany keep their distance, picking the perfect position to spy on their friends yet stay out of sight. Santana wraps her hands around Brittany's waist, opting to dance closely this time instead of letting Brittany pull out her wild moves. Rachel and Quinn have finished their drinks so they're now empty handed and they both seem to be struggling to find something to do with their hands.
"This is going to be a disaster," Santana whispers into Brittany's ear.
"You shouldn't have given them those Hurricane's." Santana pulls away from Brittany so that she can look her in the eye.
"I may have also taken a Tequila shot with them when you were in the bathroom."
"I know, San," Brittany says, kissing Santana gently, "you taste like college." Santana blushes. "They're doing all the wrong things," Brittany says glancing over at Quinn and Rachel again. "They have to dance a little closer together if they don't want to get hit on by other people in the next five minutes."
"I know. Cute Latina in the fedora has been checking out Rachel for ten minutes. I think she's plotting a plan of action." They turn so that Brittany can get a view of what Santana is talking about.
"Oh no. She just bought a Hurricane," Brittany says. "Three, two, one," she counts down, turning so that Santana can get a view again.
"She's made her move. Lame. Totally passive."
"What's she doing?"
"Dancing awkwardly behind Berry."
"Worst Lezzie move ever."
"Here we go. Quinn's made eye contact. Girl has hand on Berry's waist. Berry looks like she's been hit in her beak." Brittany spins them around again.
"I want to see!" She says. "Rachel is going for it. Quinn is backing away. Quinn is now doing the awkward 'I was dancing with my friend but now I'm alone move'. Oh no. Oh no."
"What?" Santana says, moving away from Brittany so she can see her face again.
"Quinn has backed into predatory brunette. Predatory brunette is smirking. Quinn is apologizing. Yup, now they're dancing."
"We need to get drinks," Santana says into Brittany's ear.
"Tequila?" Brittany asks. Santana smirks and grabs her hand, dragging her to the bar.
They wait in line for what feels like forever, and Santana gets them each two shots, which they throw back immediately.
"Where the fuck are Berry and Quinn?" Santana asks Brittany as she turns away from the bar and back toward the dance floor.
"Quinn stormed away from predatory brunette. Rachel followed."
"I hope they didn't go to the bathroom." Santana says.
"We'll never see them again." Brittany says with the slight hint of disbelief. She grasps Santana's hand and leads them back to the dance floor.
"What was that, Quinn?" Rachel says, storming up to Quinn in the bathroom line.
"No cutting!" A butch blond in a Dodger's shirt and baggy black jeans says, glaring at Rachel.
"I'm sorry, I'm not cutting in the line, thank you very much, I just have to speak with my…friend…here." Rachel says, glaring right back at the woman.
"What was what, Rachel?" Quinn asks, rolling her eyes as they shuffle forward in the bathroom line.
"You. Dancing with that girl."
"You were dancing with someone else too." Quinn says, looking over Rachel's shoulder. They shuffle forward in line again.
"Yes, but only because she sneak attacked me and I didn't want to be rude!"
"Didn't want to be rude? Is that what you call grinding your ass into some random girl? Politeness?"
"Well, yes, when that is the form of dancing going on around me."
"It doesn't matter, Rachel, you're allowed to dance with whomever you want. I don't know why you followed me in here." They shuffle forward again, so that now they're next to the security guy watching the bathrooms. Rachel doesn't know what to say, so they stand in silence. A fight breaks out on the other side of the bathroom and security guy rushes away to deal with it. One of the stalls opens up and Quinn rushes in, with Rachel tight at her heels.
"One at a time!" The butch lesbian yells after them.
"Rachel, you can't follow me in here!" Quinn says after Rachel shuts the door. "I actually have to pee."
"So pee," Rachel says.
"Not in front of you!"
"Quinn, I've seen all of you, there really is no reason to be modest."
"That's different! Will you turn around at least?" Quinn hisses at Rachel. Rachel turns around but still doesn't hear any peeing. "Now I'm having pee-anxiety. Can you make some noise or something?" Rachel starts singing 'How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria', until Quinn flushes the toilet.
"I followed you in here, because I don't understand why you invited me out tonight so that I can watch you dance with another girl! Was it to flaunt how comfortable you are with your sexuality in my face? To show me that you don't really need me at all? Because, Quinn, there are certainly less hurtful ways for you to have sent that message to me."
"What? No!" Quinn says. "I can't believe you would think that! I invited you here, Rachel, because I like spending time with you, all I want to do is spend time with you, and I didn't want to go out with my best friends to my first night at a lesbian club as a…non-straight woman…without sharing it with you!" Quinn stops, her gaze steely at Rachel.
"Then why won't you dance with me?" Rachel asks softly, taken aback.
"I didn't want to overstep my bounds," Quinn says, sighing. "I meant it when I said I wanted to date you," She looks Rachel in the eyes. "But, I don't know how to do this whole, lesbian dating thing. Do I ask you to dance? Do I just assume that it's okay to start, you know, grinding up on you like every other person is doing in here?"
"Quinn, I love you," Rachel says, the frustration apparent in her voice. She takes Quinn's hand and puts it to her chest. "You know this. I've told you this time and time again. I don't understand what…" Rachel is cut off by Quinn's lips on hers, pressing her against the door of the bathroom stall. This kiss isn't like the one from the other night. This is frantic, sloppy, and drunk, closer to those kisses they shared in Big Bear than the ones last week on the couch. They're desperate and pleading and taste like desire and sadness and relief. Quinn trails her hand down Rachel's collarbone, resting her thumb just above her breast and slides her leg in between Rachel's, gasping into her mouth as Rachel involuntarily moans.
"I missed this," Rachel whispers, her voice stilted and deep.
"So much," Quinn says, kissing her again, a little softer this time. She trails her hand down Rachel's sides, feeling the muscles in her stomach contract against her fingertips. Rachel has one hand tangled in Quinn's hair, the other grasps at the fabric of Quinn's dress at the small of her back.
"One at a time!" A deep male voice bellows against the door, banging on it. They break apart, looking at one another in shock until Rachel starts laughing.
"This is embarrassing," she says.
"And typical. Making out in the bathroom at a lesbian bar. Santana's taught me my lesbian stereotypes, and trust me, this is one of them."
"Should we face the music?" Rachel asks. Quinn grins and nods.
"Wait a second," Quinn says as Rachel unlocks the door. She leans in and kisses her, just a peck this time, and holds out her hand. Rachel beams up at her, interlacing their fingers. "You know I still want to date like a normal person, Rach," Quinn says as they exit the bathroom.
Brittany and Santana are next in line for the bathroom. Brittany is leaning against the wall and Santana is facing her, away from the stalls. She kisses her slowly and sweetly; their slow romantic kisses seem out of place amidst the hip-hop and sweat and intense grinding occurring elsewhere in the club.
"San," Brittany says, pulling away from the kiss, her thumb on Santana's cheek.
"Is it my turn? I hate the one-person rule here. Do they think lesbians are incapable of just sharing a stall? You're my wife for god's sake." Her eyes are still shut as she speaks, slowly and softly, still in a daze.
"Look over there," Brittany whispers into Santana's ear. She opens her eyes and looks over her shoulder, just in time to see a security guard guiding Rachel and Quinn out of a stall, their hands intertwined.
"Nice job, ladies," Santana says, smirking as they approach the sinks. The security guard tries to guide Santana into the now empty stall. She looks at him like he's lost it. "Hell no am I going in that one," she glares at him and waits for another stall to open up.
"Y'all are a mess," Gracie says, watching her sister and Santana slowly sip their coffee the next morning.
"Why are you still here, Grace?" Santana asks.
"Wow, Santana. I always know you're mad when you call me Grace. And I'm here because I thought it would be nice to have some family time. Like you said, Santana, I hardly ever come over here, so I thought I'd just stay for the weekend." Santana looks at Gracie separately.
"Who are you avoiding at school?" Santana asks. "Are you flunking out?"
"She and Jamal broke up," Daisy says, ignoring the glare Gracie is sending her.
"Who's Jamal?" Brittany asks.
"Her ex-boyfriend."
"Thanks, Daisy." Gracie says, sarcastically. "So…can I stay the weekend or not?"
"Of course you can stay, Grace. You know you're always welcome here. You too, Daisy."
"Thanks, Britt," Gracie says. "To be honest, I'm surprised you guys are such a mess. You were back surprisingly early last night."
"Santana got us kicked out of the bar."
"Did not!" Santana says, lifting her head up from the table.
"What'd she do this time?" Grace asks. "Fight with some girl for dancing with you? Break into hysterics because she danced with another girl?"
"She touched one of the bartenders boob."
"No I didn't!" Santana says, lifting her head up again. "They were doing their sexy-stripper dance on the bar and I put a dollar in her bra! It's totally acceptable."
"You full on groped her." Quinn says.
"Yeah, then you cried about it." Brittany says, smirking. "Then you cried that you lost the bet."
"Whatever," Santana says, laying her head back down on the cool table.
"I'll never understand why you married her," Gracie says to Brittany.
"You love me," Santana says, her voice muffled by the table.
"So, we're going to use your babysitting services for the next several hours while we sleep off the rest of this hangover," Brittany says, plopping Nico down in Gracie's lap. "And I cash in on my bet. Quinn, you're welcome to take the guest bedroom if you'd like, I know the couch you slept on last night isn't the most comfortable."
"Thanks, Britt, but I should be heading home. I'll see you Wednesday for Lily's guitar lesson?"
"Actually, I'm not going to be home Wednesday afternoon. Working."
"Okay, then I'll see you next Saturday."
"What's happening next Saturday?" Santana asks as Quinn gathers her belongings and walks toward the front of the house.
"We're babysitting Quinn's kids, remember? We agreed to it last night."
"Fabray!" Santana yells at Quinn's retreating body. "I did not agree to that!" Quinn shuts the door behind her before Santana has the chance to say anything else.
"It was your idea, Santana. You wanted to get used to having more kids in the house."
"I'm never drinking again," Santana says, running her hands through her hair.
"Let's get you back to bed, sweetheart," Brittany says, helping Santana out of her chair. She ignores her sister's protests as she takes Santana up the stairs.
"Quinn is going to be over soon!" Rachel says, the next weekend, looking at the clock in her bedroom. "We have to make clothing decisions now, Kurt."
"Stop trying to rush the process, Rachel. And, pause, Quinn is picking you up?"
"Yes," Rachel says, turning to look at Kurt.
"She's picking you up to take you to a show and to dinner?"
"That was the plan, last I spoke to her."
"This is serious, Rachel!" Kurt squeals. "This is like serious date material. Oh my god, I just got so much more excited."
"I told you, Kurt! Why did you think I needed you here for moral support?"
"Let's be real, Rachel. You've always needed me for moral support. This was hardly a surprise."
"Please just find me something to wear."
"Thanks so much for doing this," Quinn says to Brittany and Santana as she follows her daughters running into the house.
"Of course!" Brittany says, taking some of the bags off of Quinn's hands.
"Well, I was drunk when I agreed to this, so consider yourself lucky, Q," Santana says. They walk toward the living room where the girls have dropped their things. "Where are you taking her, anyway?" Santana asks, catching the basketball Lily has been bouncing in mid-air. "No sports in the house, Bug. You know that." Santana says, interrupting herself.
"In the Heights is back at the Pantages, so we're going to see that and then to The Bazaar."
"Woah, Q, that shit's fancy. And expensive," Santana says, trying, and failing, to twirl Lily's basketball on her finger. She's never really been the sporty type.
"Well, I am making 4 million dollars a year in alimony so I might as well spend it on something nice?" Quinn asks, rhetorically, looking a little unsure as the words leave her mouth.
"Why don't we ever go anywhere nice?" Brittany jokingly asks Santana, nudging her shoulder.
"Because we aren't making 4 million dollars a year in alimony, B. However, I believe we are accruing some babysitting credits tonight, so maybe we should splurge for some Little Dom's next week?" Brittany nods. "I know you could eat some Rice Balls, B." Brittany grins.
"And rigatoni?" Brittany asks. Santana nods. "And maybe some artichokes and a bottle of Chianti?"
"Anything for my wife," Santana says, laughing her just-for-Brittany guttural laugh.
"It's a date," Brittany says, grinning.
"Kurt!" Quinn says when he opens the door, her eyes widening with surprise, then quickly turning into more of a smirk.
"Quinn! I'm sorry, I know you didn't expect me here, I just needed to borrow something from Rachel, but I'll be on my way now."
"What could you possibly have to borrow? Rachel hardly has anything in her apartment."
"Oh, you know, some sheet music and other important things!" Kurt grins at Quinn, knowing full well that she sees right through him. "Why don't you come in," he says with a flourish as he opens the door. "You look lovely."
"Thank you, Kurt," Quinn says, nodding her head at him.
"Hi, Quinn," Rachel says as she steps off the last step and into her kitchen-living room. "You look lovely tonight."
"Thanks, Rach. You too." Quinn says, her smile wide but her voice quiet.
"Well, Kurt," Rachel says, looking pointedly at the grinning man in front of her. "I'm glad you had that sheet music I was looking for," Rachel says, her nose scrunching as Kurt shakes his head and points back and forth between them behind Quinn's back.
"I'm just going to go!" Kurt says. "Have fun, ladies."
"Are you ready?" Quinn asks Rachel, her smile soft and hopeful.
"Let me just get my purse."
"So, ladies, I have an idea," Brittany says to the girls after they get their things situated in the guest bedroom. "When Aunt S and I were teenagers, our favorite thing was to have breakfast for dinner. What do you think about doing that tonight?"
"How can we have breakfast for dinner? Does that mean we don't get dinner until tomorrow morning?" Harper asks.
"No, silly," Santana says, placing a hand on Harper's head. "It means we get breakfast food instead of dinner food tonight!"
"So can we have burgers for breakfast tomorrow?" Lily asks. Santana looks at Brittany.
"I don't see why not! So…what would you like: waffles, French toast, or pancakes?"
"Waffles!" All three scream.
"Okay! Waffles it is! Why don't you go play outside while we start dinner, okay girls?" The three girls bound through the sliding doors to the backyard where Brittany and Santana can see them while they cook dinner.
"You're a genius, Britt." Santana says, watching the girls play in the yard.
"I know. Now, do you want to be on waffle duty or eggs and bacon duty?"
"Eggs and bacon," Santana says.
"Mama help." Nico says, bored with the game he was playing with Olivia on the floor. Santana and Brittany had spent months trying to figure out what exactly the game was; it involved a sponge, a bowl of water, and cheerios, and they seemed endlessly entertained by it. Brittany picks him up and places him on the counter next to her while Santana cracked eggs into a large mixing bowl.
"Oh, look at my grandson, helping his mama cook!" Maria says, entering the kitchen. She places a kiss on Nico's head as he dumps a cup of flour into a mixing bowl, as per Brittany's instructions.
"Woah, Maria, you look amazing," Brittany says, taking in her mother-in-law's outfit.
"Seriously, mom, do you have another date with salsa-man?" Santana asks.
"It's not a date, Santana. We're just going to dinner. Are you girls making breakfast for dinner? And are Quinn's girls playing Vampirates?" Maria asks, glancing out the window. Brittany hands Nico another cup of flour that he diligently dumps in the bowl, grinning up at his mother.
"Yes. To both questions, I think," Santana says, looking out of the window as the doorbell rings.
"It's amazing how some things never do change. Well, I have to get going," Maria says, leaning down to the ground to give Olivia a kiss and then placing one on Nico's head.
"Invite salsa-man inside! We want to meet him!" Brittany says, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
"I don't think he's quite ready for that," Maria says. "Bye girls! Have fun."
"So much for my mother moving in with us to provide a little extra help around the house." Santana scoffs.
"That's what we have this one for," Brittany grins, gesturing to Nico who has somehow managed to cover his entire face with flour.
"Help mama!" He squeals.
"I know, you are such a big help, baby," Brittany says, dampening a paper towel and gently wiping off his face.
"Look at you, helping your mama," Santana smirks to Nico, walking over and kissing his damp cheek.
"Crazy mami," he says, giggling while she places butterfly kisses on his chubby cheeks.
"You taught him that one, Britt," Santana says.
"You know it. He learns from the best," Brittany grins and they return to their cooking.
"You know, I have to admit, I've never seen In The Heights," Rachel says as they ride in Quinn's car after the show.
"You're kidding."
"I'm serious. I somehow missed that one," Rachel says.
"Well, did you like it?"
"It was perfect."
"So, I made reservations at The Bazaar," Quinn begins, trying to feel Rachel out, "but San and Britt were talking about going to Little Dom's next week, and I was thinking you might want to do something a little more casual?"
"I'd like that," Rachel says. "Although is Little Dom's really that casual?"
"Compared to The Bazaar, it is. We used to go there in our twenties when we first started having some expendable income, and it's always been one of our favorite restaurants."
"Let's do it then."
"Little Dom's it is. It's really a shame you can't eat those Rice Balls. They're delicious."
"I have to admit, whenever I smell that melted cheese in them, I get a little jealous."
"Well, they are to die for."
They put the twins to bed soon after dinner and let the girls decide what they wanted to do. Lily wanted to play guitar with Santana, Hannah wanted to read, and Harper wanted to watch 101 Dalmations with Brittany.
"Can you guys please not play so loud?" Hannah asks Lily and Santana. "I'm trying to read."
"Why don't you come join us, Bean?" Santana asks.
"I don't play the guitar." Hannah says, simply.
"Well, hobbit tells me that you have quite the voice on you. Why don't you sing a song with us, then we can show Aunt B tonight and your mom tomorrow."
"Rachel said I have a good voice?" Hannah asks, her eyes opening wide as she looks at Santana.
"The best," Santana says. "She says that it's way better than her voice was at your age."
"Maybe we could try that," Hannah says, quietly placing her book down.
"That's my girl," Santana says, gesturing for Hannah to come join her and Lily. "Now, to begin, I'm going to tell you a little story about Fleetwood Mac, possibly the greatest band to ever live…" Hannah and Lily sit crosslegged in front of Santana and listens to her story.
"This is nice," Rachel says, holding Quinn's hand across the table. Quinn nods.
"I'm glad you like it." They sit in awkward silence for too long.
"You know, this is ridiculous," Rachel says. "We've spent countless hours with one another over the last year, not too mention the fact that we've known one another for fifteen years, and suddenly, when we're 'dating', it becomes awkward."
"You're right," Quinn says through a chuckle. "Maybe we're better off as friends." She looks at her menu before allowing one eye to smirk up at Rachel. "Kidding." She says simply, a smile forming on her lips.
"That was mean, Quinn Fabray. I thought you grew out of that."
"Never. Now, to begin, Justin was always a fan of the Pinot Grigio, but I have always loved the $13 house red. What do you say?"
"This is your place, Quinn. I'm going to trust your word for it."
"Well if that's the case, I might as well order for the both of us."
"I would love to see what Quinn Fabray's ideal Little Dom's meal for two looks like."
"Then allow me to show you, Rachel Berry." She squeezes Rachel's hand. Somehow the awkwardness at the table seems diffused, even if it's temporary. "Oh my god, Rach, I have to tell you what Hannah said to me the other day!" Quinn says excitedly.
"Ah, my budding star, do tell!" Rachel says. Quinn leans back and excitedly begins her story, waiting for the waiter to come and take her order.
"We started a band!" Lily says, as Brittany and Harper enter the living room after 101 Dalmations ends.
"Did you?" Brittany asks with a smirk. Hannah nods.
"We're awesome. We're just called the Stevies after the greatest singer-songwriter Stevie Nicks."
"I see Aunt S gave you her history of Fleetwood Mac," Brittany says, giggling. She sits down on the couch, placing a sleepy Harper in her lap. "I'm assuming we're going to get a show?" Brittany asks.
"Obviously," Santana says. The three take their positions and they start playing 'The Chain' with Santana on lead guitar, Lily strumming out the basic rhythms, Hannah singing and Santana harmonizing with her. Brittany can't help but giggle a little bit when they get to the guitar solo and Santana seems a little too into it, considering that she's playing with a six and eight year old. When they're finished, Harper and Brittany give them a loud round of applause, complete with squealing.
"You guys were brilliant!" Brittany says, hugging Lily and then Harper. "I think it's time for bed now, though.
Eating vegan at Little Dom's turns out to be a little more complicated than Quinn expected, but they manage to make it work by asking for a lot of dishes without the cheese. (Really, who is expected to eat Italian food without parmesan cheese?)
"My god," Rachel says, biting into a carrot, "this is just a carrot, but it is delicious. Do you think they cooked these carrots in heaven?" Rachel asks Quinn through a grin. "I'm a Jew. We don't even believe in heaven."
"I told you. This place is to die for. You won't need heaven, you already ate one of their carrots." They've mostly finished eating, leaving half-eaten plates of appetizers and entrees scattered around the table. Now, for the final course."
"I can't, Quinn. I just don't think I can do dessert. Plus, most dessert isn't vegan."
"This is better than dessert, Rach," Quinn says. The waiter comes to their table.
"Can I interest you in a dessert menu, ladies," he asks politely.
"You know, I think we'll just have the Cascina Ca Rossa and the bill," Quinn says.
"Ah," the waiter says, "good choice. "Violet, rose, raspberry, romantic…"
"Just like it says on the menu," Quinn points out.
"Indeed. Did you need one glass or two."
"I think one will be fine," Quinn says, smiling politely at the waiter.
"You're full of surprises, Quinn Fabray."
"So are you, Rachel Berry."
"I'm so fucking tired, B," Santana says. "So tired. I love Quinn's kids, but I hate Quinn's kids." She pours herself a glass on wine and gestures to Brittany, seeing if she wants want too. Brittany simply nods her head. "At least they were significantly better than the last time we babysat."
"I understand. I never thought I would understand, but I understand now." Brittany says, as they take a seat on the couch, Brittany curling up into Santana's shoulder.
"Are you sure we should do this whole, expanding the family thing? I mean, today was miserable." Santana is joking, but Brittany looks at her with seriousness in her eyes.
"San, honey, I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do," she says, stroking Santana's cheek. "I mean, you know I want a large family, but I'm flexible as long as my family includes you. I've been doing a lot of research into adoption, and I understand if you want to wait awhile to fill out applications or find an agent, but we really don't have to do anything unless you're comfortable with it."
"Woah, Brittany," Santana says, turning to face her wife and wrapping her arms around her waist. "Quinn's kids are crazy. Our kids are awesome. I told you I wanted to carry our next child because I want to, baby. This has nothing to do with that."
"Are you sure?"
"100%." Santana says, kissing Brittany lightly on the nose. "Should we watch something?" Santana asks.
"Nah. I kind of like being here in the quiet with you."
"I like that too, B." Santana takes a sip of her wine and just enjoys her quiet space with her wife.
"Thanks so much for tonight, Quinn. I had a really great time."
"Me too, Rach. Thanks for coming."
"Thanks for inviting me." They sit in Quinn's car in silence, the engine quietly running.
"You thanked me for that already," Quinn said softly, letting the silence linger between them.
"Would you like to come up for a drink?" Rachel asks Quinn, noting that Quinn has turned off the ignition. "No pressure, of course."
"I'd like that," Quinn says, taking the keys out of the ignition. They walk to the building in silence, their hands clasped together. Every once in awhile, Quinn glances down at their intertwined fingers and can't help but smirk.
"Would you like red or white?" Rachel asks as they walk into the living room.
"Red would be great," Quinn says. Rachel pours them both a glass of wine and presses play on her iPod dock. She immediately turns bright red when Barbra Streisand's Evergreen begins to play through her speakers. She jumps up, nearly spilling her wine in her haste to turn off the music.
"I'm so sorry about that," Rachel says, nervously laughing to hid her embarrassment.
"It's fine, Rach. I spent three years in a Glee club with you and Kurt Hummel. I'm used to a little Babs now and then." Quinn says, smirking. Quinn joins her at the iPod dock, shuffling through her music together.
"Sade?" Quinn asks.
"Are you asking me if I want to play Sade, or are you surprised that I have Sade?" Rachel asks, slightly indignant. "To be honest, Quinn, I'm surprised that you know Sade." Rachel says, starting By Your Side on her Sade/John Legend playlist that Kurt had affectionately dubbed the "Rachel Gets It On" mix. She, of course, didn't let Quinn see that part. They sit back down on the couch.
"It's Santana. If Sade is playing in her house, she's either having sex or crying. Sometimes both."
"Let's not talk about how weirdly emotional Santana is. I'm just getting used to it."
"You never will," Quinn says laughing, swirling her wine in her glass. They sit in silence as the song changes to John Legend's I Love You Love. "Is this, like, a hookup mix, Rachel?"
"No."
"It so is," Quinn says, smiling nervously to herself. She places her wine on the table. As the chorus swells, she places her hand on Rachel's cheek, running her thumb down her cheekbone, then just barely across Rachel's bottom lip.
"I had a really good time tonight," Quinn whispers.
"I did too," Rachel whispers back. Quinn's eyes flit up from Rachel's lips to her eyes, her heart racing as though she's never done this before. Rachel leans in, surprising Quinn, pressing their lips together, gently. Quinn tastes like red wine and a little like Altoids. Rachel reaches around to Quinn's waist, pulling them closer together, as close as possible when sitting side-by-side on a couch. The song hasn't ended as the kiss deepens; their lips part slightly and they're breathing one another in through the kiss, their tongues moving together gently. Rachel shifts her body so that she is fully facing Quinn, holding her tightly around the waist. She breaks the kiss and pulls back to look at Quinn. Quinn's eyes are shut, her face a mix of content and expectant. It takes a moment for Quinn to realize that they've stopped kissing. Her eyes flutter open and she rests a hand on Rachel's cheek again.
"Is this okay?" Quinn asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Why do you think I invited you up?" Rachel says, running her thumb along Quinn's bottom lip. "Come here," she says, moving so that her back is against the arm of the couch. Quinn gingerly moves closer toward her, so that her back leans against Rachel's leg. She runs her hand up Rachel's other leg that is dangling off the couch.
"I'm going to kiss you again," Quinn says. Rachel just nods as Quinn kisses her. Rachel smiles into the kiss.
"I'm okay with that," she says into Quinn's lips.
"We should start planning Nico and Olivia's birthday party." Brittany says. She's lying in Santana's lap, humming along to the Joni Mitchell album playing. Santana is reading a book, her arm fully extended because she's not wearing her reading glasses. Santana puts her book down on the coffee table. "I think it should be dinosaur themed since they both are so into their dinosaur toys lately." Santana nods, absentmindedly playing with Brittany's hair. "Maybe we can get someone dressed as a dinosaur to come, You know, instead of clowns?" Santana nods again. "And have ice cream cake. And Mercedes will have had her baby by then. And maybe we can invite everyone from their 'Mommy and Me' class." Santana nods. "Why are you being so quiet, San?" She cranes her head up to look at Santana, reaching up to tuck a dark strand of her that has fallen out of place behind her ear.
"You're pretty," Santana whispers, leaning down to peck her on the lips. "I want to have sex."
"You're so romantic, Santana."
"Hey! I can be romantic!"
"I know you can, honey," Brittany says, leaning up to give Santana a longer kiss this time. Santana immediately grabs Brittany's breast with her left hand.
"Santana!"
"What?" Santana asks, feigning innocence and not removing her hand from Brittany's breast. "Wasn't it like in our vows that I could feel you up whenever I want?"
"I must have missed that part," Brittany says coyly, kissing Santana again. "You know I'm not an audacious learner," she says. Santana can't help but note that Brittany is a little out of breath when she says it, and that she hasn't moved her hand yet.
"Auditory," Santana mumbles out into Brittany's lips.
"Knock, knock!" Maria says as she opens the door. Brittany sits up. It doesn't matter that they're adults and married now, she still really doesn't like the idea of Maria catching them making out on the couch. Santana groans.
"God! My mother is still such a cockblock." Brittany scrunches her nose up at the term.
"They must be asleep already," Maria whispers in the foyer. Brittany and Santana's eyes lock, wide with surprise. Santana puts her finger to her lips, excited to bust her mother after so many years of the reverse. They hear the door shut again and quiet footsteps make their way into the hallway.
"Why, hello, mom," Santana says, smirking from the couch when Maria and salsa-man walk into the dimly lit living room.
"Santana! Brittany!" Maria says, clearly embarrassed as she stops in her tracks.
"Hi, Maria!" Brittany says, cheerily waving at her mother-in-law. "Hi, salsa-man!" Santana grins.
"I thought you were asleep." Maria says. Santana smirks again. She has never seen her mother this flustered.
"We were getting ready to go upstairs," Santana says. "Aren't you going to introduce us?" Santana rises, and Brittany follows her.
"I'm so sorry." Maria says, mostly to salsa-man. "This is my daughter, Santana," Santana extends her hand to him, "and her wife, Brittany. Ladies, this is Frank, my friend from dance class."
"It's nice to finally meet you, Frank!" Brittany says, still beaming. "Now we can stop calling you salsa-man when we talk about you!" Santana is sure her mother is blushing right now, and after all the years Maria took pleasure in embarrassing her, Santana has never felt more satisfied.
"Likewise," Frank says, smiling slightly to himself.
"Well, kids," Santana says, "we're on our way to bed." She takes Brittany's hand and walks toward the stairs. "Don't stay up too late! And don't forget to turn out the lights!" Brittany giggles as they walk toward the bedroom together.
"I wonder if this is what it will be like when Nico and Olivia are teenagers?" Brittany asks as they enter their bedroom.
"Hell no am I letting Nico or Olivia alone with anyone of the opposite sex when they're teenagers."
"What if one of them is gay?"
"When Nico and Olivia are teenagers, I will follow them around everywhere they go. They'll never be alone with anyone, ever." Brittany giggles and pushes Santana down into their bed.
"Are you afraid they'll meet a sex-dolphin like you, San?" Brittany teases, pulling her shirt over her head as she speaks. Santana opens her mouth, but no audible sounds come out as Brittany unclasps her bra and throws it on the floor. "What's wrong, honey? Did Lord Tubbington IV eat your tongue again?" Brittany whispers into Santana's ear, trailing a line of kisses down her neck and collarbone.
"That's gross, Britt," Santana says, moving away from her wife for long enough to take off her own shirt and bra, then quickly wiggling out of her pants.
"Someone really does want to have sex," Brittany says, amazed by how quickly Santana disrobed. She straddles Santana's hipbones, running her fingertips gently up her waist and then around the curve of her breasts. Santana arches into Brittany's touch.
"Please, baby," is all Santana manages to get out. Brittany leans down and gently places her lips around Santana's nipple, hardly applying any pressure but letting her tongue flit out against it every once and awhile, her hot breath causing her nipple to harden inside Brittany's mouth. "Brittany," Santana moans, exasperated. "Stop teasing me," she says, tangling her left hand in Brittany's blond hair to push her lips closer to her left breast and using her free hand to grab at her right breast.
"No touching yourself," Brittany says, her mouth barely lifting off of Santana's nipple. The feeling of her hot breath just over the wet skin causes Santana to moan again. "This should teach you a little lesson about romance, Santana," Brittany says, standing up and taking her pants and underwear off.
"Baby, I don't think this is the meaning of romance," Santana says, squirming on top of their comforter as Brittany gets naked in front of her.
"Well, I'm going to teach you a lesson in something," Brittany says, crawling back on to the bed and pushing Santana's arms over her head. She sits on Santana's hips so that their bodies are nearly touching, but she keeps herself lifted about half-an-inch away from her. Santana groans, bucking her hips toward Brittany, who just lifts herself up further on her strong, dancer's legs. "Nah-uh," she says, smirking as Santana squirms beneath her. She leans down again so that her mouth is grazing Santana's and their nipples barely press together. "I'm teaching the lesson tonight, San," Brittany says, closing the distance between their lips for a full, hard, kiss.
"Let's go upstairs," Rachel says into Quinn's neck. Rachel is on Quinn's lap, her top thrown somewhere across the room. Quinn's dress has been scrunched up past her thighs to nearly her hip bones, and down past her breasts to nearly her stomach, so that it now resembles a large body scrunchie. She moans as Rachel continues sucking on her neck, her left hand cupping Quinn's breast and her thumb drawing tiny, light circles around her nipple.
"Can't," Quinn says, still involuntarily bucking into Rachel's hips.
"Yes you can," Rachel pants into Quinn, guiding her free hand up Quinn's inner thigh. Quinn quickly grabs her wrist.
"No, Rach, we really can't," Quinn says, pulling away.
"Why?" Rachel asks, seeking Quinn's eyes. Seeing her glassy eyes, Quinn quickly reaches up to touch Rachel's cheek reassuringly.
"I want to date you, Rachel." Quinn says, her voice low and serious.
"Isn't that what this is?"
"Of course, sweetie," Quinn says, immediately blushing at the accidental term of endearment. "You know that I want this," she says, her eyes grazing Rachel's half-naked body, "just as much as you do. I want this to be serious though, and I want…I want…you…I want you to be my girlfriend, eventually," Quinn finally finishes, quietly. "So, I want to be smart about this. You're already a huge part of my children's life, I don't want us to move too fast and ruin our already tenuous friendship and them suddenly to have lost their father and their Rachel. We were on the path to that happening before. So I want to be smart, for once, because, I want to be in this for the long haul, Rach…if you do, of course." Rachel lifts Quinn's chin with her hand and places a light kiss on Quinn's lips.
"I'm already in this for the long haul." Rachel says, slowly climbing off of Quinn. She pulls some sheets and a blanket out from a nearby closet. "Let me make the couch up for you to sleep on."
"I can do that, Rachel," Quinn says, taking the sheets and a pillow from Rachel's hands. "You should probably get in a cold shower." Quinn says smirking. Rachel blushes.
"Now that's all you'll be thinking about while you're trying to get to sleep," Rachel smirks.
"I can't think of a better dream," Quinn says, her voice husky again, looking at Rachel with eyes filled with lust. She kisses her gently.
"Okay." Rachel says, pulling away, and uselessly straightening out Quinn's disheveled dress. "I'm going to bed." Quinn nods.
"Goodnight, Rach."
"Night, Quinn."
"I love you," Quinn says quietly. Rachel smiles. It's small and nervous and Quinn can't help but find it adorable.
"I love you too,' Rachel says, kissing Quinn one last time. "See you in the morning!" She sings as she walks up the stairs. Quinn shakes her head, smiling to herself, and makes up the couch.