Hey all! I thought I'd take a moment to address some reviews, which I love by the way! Yes, Quinn is a boy in this story. I've always admired the idea of a Boy!Quinn and Santana friendship, along with a Boy!Britt and Boy!Quinn friendship as well.

I'm glad you're all liking the story so far, and here's another chapter for all you lovely people!

Chapter Four

If Brett had any qualms with letting in Rachel and her friends, they had completely dissipated after their hangout session.

Or rather, them ordering a vegan pizza (which actually was pretty good, despite Brett's hesitance) and watching Funny Girl for what was apparently Rachel's one thousandth time. According to Kurt, anyways.

Brett assumed he was over exaggerating.

Or at least he hoped so.

After saying a polite goodbye, Brett shrugged on his leather jacket and straddled his Harley, revving his engine once before taking off down Rachel's street, chuckling quietly as he heard the tiny brunette shouting safety precautions as he rode further away.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as his hands clenched the handle bars just a bight tighter.

This is when the blonde felt most serene.

The wind blowing coolly against his pale cheeks, the world seeming to blur around him as he picked up more and more speed. He felt as if he was at peace with the universe, seeing and hearing the secrets that were kept from others on a daily basis.

He was pretty sure he sounded like Buddha at some point during that thought, but whatever.

And the best part was, he controlled it all.

One of the very few things he did control, in fact.

This thought quickly wiped the smile off his face, leaving him in a somber attitude for the rest of his journey home.

"And where the hell does he get off talking to me like that? Like I'm some kind of...of whore! What a fucking dick," Santana spit out ruthlessly, pacing back and forth as her hands ran through her silky hair.

Quinn rolled his eyes, sitting on top of his bed and watching as his best friend basically had a mental breakdown.

From the moment he laid eyes on the two, Quinn knew his friend had it bad. Which was rare because, come on, it was Santana.

He sooner expected dogs to start taking shits in the toilet before Santana found someone she truly liked.

But something seemed off about this Brett Pierce, whether it was his attitude or the way he looked constantly troubled, the blonde jock didn't know.

But he would be damned if he let that James Dean knock off break his best friend's heart.

"You don't even know the guy, San," Quinn tried, attempting to erase the worry lines on the brunette's forehead. "His opinion is definitely invalid."

The brunette in question whipped around on the balls of her feet, sending an icy glare at Quinn, which actually made the boy flinch a little.

Damn, Santana could be scary when she wanted to be.

She raised a perfectly manicured finger and pointed it directly in the blonde's face. "Invalid? He just-but he-and I-" Santana couldn't find the right words to describe her anger at this point.

Or maybe, she just didn't understand why she was so upset as well.

All she knew was Brett Pierce could definitely get under her skin. And, as much as she didn't want to admit it, she nearly liked him being there.

God, she hadn't even known the guy for one damn day.

She wouldn't be surprised if they ended up on some episode of the Maury show next week.

"Hey," Quinn smiled softly, prodding more gently as he saw the distress written clearly on his best friend's face, "Why don't we just watch a movie and forget about this, alright? I'll even sing along to Grease with you if you want."

Quinn actually hated Grease, but it was definitely worth it when Santana's eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

Brett exhaled sharply as he pulled off his helmet, finding himself staring at the wooden house before him, the paint chipping off noticeably and each window streaked with a thin coat of dirt.

Home sweet home.

He'd rather live in a pineapple at this point.

Become Spongebob and adopt a snail named Gary.

But, alas, snails frightened him.

As fucking weird as that sounds.

He dismounted quickly, putting down his kickstand before making his way toward the half-rotted door, the gravel of the driveway crunching beneath his boots.

Each step seemed louder in his ears and he felt his heart become slightly lighter.

Yeah, maybe his place wasn't all daisies and rainbows, but he smiled hugely, knowing that soon he'd come face to face with-

The air was knocked out of him as a small body crashed unsteadily into his, Brett's arms instantly wrapping around his welcomed attacker as they clung to his leg. He lifted the body with ease, pressing a soft kiss to their cheek and smiling affectionately at the blue eyes staring back into his.

"Hey buddyboy, did you have a good day?"

The next day at school Santana hadn't run into Brett Pierce once, and to be honest, it irritated the absolute crap out of her.

Who does he think he is? Insulting her and then not even having the nerve to show his face?

She huffed impatiently while Quinn and Finn Hudson were talking about some football game that they had just barely lost. She could see her friend gesturing wildly out of the corner of her eye, Finn nodding rapidly in agreement and fist bumping with him.

She rolled her eyes at that.

Quinn could be such a guy sometimes.

Right before she was about to give up her search, the crowds of students separated, and there was the blonde she had been looking for.

She felt like he was Moses parting the Red Sea.

Or she just had some bad tuna last night and was tripping hardcore.

Either way.

The badass was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans, a lanyard hanging from his left pocket and a simple white v-neck clinging to his sculpted chest. His blonde locks were styled messily on top of his head, looking as though he had just woken up. And of course, those damn sunglasses remained over those beautiful eyes.

Wait...beautiful?

She meant blue.

Blue.

She was about to strut purposefully toward the boy in question, demanding to get some answers of why he felt he could judge her so suddenly, when she watched as the small hobbit came bouncing toward him, throwing her arms around his lanky figure.

Dark eyes narrowed dangerously as she watched Brett reciprocate the hug, and actually seem comfortable with it, unlike yesterday.

She watched as they pulled apart, lips turning down slightly when she actually got a good look at Brett's face.

He looked worn, and wary of all that was going on around him. Almost strained, she thought.

She shook her head emphatically at these thoughts.

No, he called her some easy whore.

And she was about to let him know that messing with McKinley's head bitch in charge was his biggest mistake.

She ignored her friend's confused questioning as she strutted away to one of Quinn's fellow football players who stood off to the side across the hall, a blue slushy held in one hand.

After whispering some words into the jock's ears, a devilish smirk grew on Santana's face, as well as the large boy she had whispered to in the first place.

Quinn eyed the situation from afar, shaking his head and sighing quietly, knowing exactly what was happening.

Without another word, the jock strode almost giddily over to where Brett and Rachel were standing, Brett having only a moment to look up in confusion before his face was met with a wall of ice, blue streaks leaking down his shirt and drenching his now-stained hair.

Santana was waiting for the satisfied feeling to wash over her, but it never came.

Only guilt.

As if reading her mind, Brett turned his head directly to Santana, and to her surprise , she found nothing but softness written on his features.

She heard him excuse himself politely from Rachel's company, even as the tiny brunette fussed over him and his slushy state.

Slowly he walked over until he came to a halt right in front of the head cheerleader, blue liquid still dripping from his face and ruining his white shirt.

"I deserved that," He stated bluntly, his tone soft and airy. "And I cannot express how rude it was of me to make that comment yesterday, and I wish I could take it back. However," He smiled ruefully, running a hand through ice chunks on his head, spiking his hair in a fashion that made Santana smile inwardly, "I can't turn back time. But I am sorry. I'll see you around, Angel Eyes."

And with that, the blonde turned around and made his way to his third class of the day, Rachel, Quinn, and Santana's eyes all following him as he went.

Maybe there was more to Brett Pierce than they all had originally thought.