Author's Note: Hope you're still enjoying this story. Please read and review if you're so inclined. Reviews make my day.
Rachel stood on the cold dressing room floor in her socks, panties, bra, and a t-shirt, looking into the ceiling corners of the room. She'd always hated trying on clothes in fitting rooms. What if there were cameras in there? First off, some pervert was probably watching her undress. Secondly, what if the video got out? She already had 'the photo' from freshman year to contend with once her inevitable stardom took off. It was technically considered child pornography so she doubted it would ever see the light of the day considering whoever came forth with it and tried to profit on her stardom would face serious jail time. She was clearly older now, though, and only another year from being eighteen, and some pervert selling footage of her in a dressing room could easily make the argument that she was eighteen at the time. Would Rachel really remember the circumstances of every time she changed in a dressing room enough to argue the point of child pornography versus unscrupulous footage taking? Well, okay, yes. She would. She had an excellent memory. Still, she didn't want to have to go to court over this if not absolutely necessary, so she kept changing in dressing rooms to a bare (no pun intended, though it was kind funny, she thought) minimum.
Tangent much, Rachel? She'd learned that new phrase this morning while watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and now she really wanted a chance to use it on someone other than herself. Buffy had been an amazing piece of storytelling and she'd truly wanted to watch the rest of it, but apparently there were seven seasons of it, plus another five seasons of its spinoff Angel, so it would have to wait. Angel had been really hot, though. Kind of like Finn, but in a darker, broodier sort of way. And Buffy? Well, Rachel already had a thing for hot blonde cheerleaders, not that she'd ever tell anyone else that. Santana would kill her repeatedly for even looking at Brittany (who was now her new best friend? Weird.), and Quinn… she supposed that Quinn would drop Rachel completely out of her life, and she definitely didn't want that.
Not that she had a crush on either of them. Brittany was super sweet, especially after Rachel had found out it was her leaving the notes in her locker all this time, but she was clearly in love with Santana and Artie already. Adding any more drama to that situation seemed detrimental to her life (and no, the irony was not lost on her that she was currently concerned about her life in that moment. There was a difference between killing herself and Santana killing her).
And Quinn? That ship had sailed and sunk already, remember? And besides, Quinn wasn't even the slightest bit gay. This was the same girl that looked repulsed at school when homosexuality was even mentioned… though that wasn't necessarily true all the time. Quinn had seemed okay with her parents. And Kurt. And Brittany and Santana. Maybe she just had issues with homosexuality in general and not when it applied to specific people. That kind of made sense, right? And even if she was the slightest bit gay (which Rachel felt sure she wasn't), then there was still Sam. Except… hadn't Santana said they'd broken up? It was one of the things Rachel had actually paid attention to, though she wasn't why that- no, she wasn't going to lie to herself- she was one hundred percent sure why that had grabbed her attention (stupid sunken ship!). She just wasn't ever going to do anything about it. She actually had friends now, kind of, she supposed. She didn't want to do anything to lose them.
And how weird was it that those three were trying to be her friends now? It almost made sense, in a way. Brittany had always been her 'super-secret ninja friend' (her words, not Rachel's), and she understood that Quinn and Santana both felt guilty for driving Rachel to try and kill herself. It wasn't their fault, though. No one seemed to get that. It wasn't anyone's fault but hers. Rachel's. They… the Unholy Trinity, her parents, Finn… no one seemed to understand. She just wasn't good enough for people to love her. It was all her fault. If she had just been better, tried harder. If she hadn't been an insufferable know-it-all. A diva. A pushy, ugly, bossy, fashion-sense challenged little miss perfect brownnoser. She could have stepped back and let other people have the spotlight. She could have been nicer to people. She could have given Finn her virginity. She could have been whatever they needed her to be. Then, maybe Shelby wouldn't have replaced her. Maybe Finn wouldn't have dumped her. Maybe people wouldn't hate her so much.
"You get lost in there, short stack?" Santana called out from the other side of the dressing room door.
Rachel blinked a couple of times and wiped away a stray tear. She'd zoned out again, forgot she was in the dressing room at all. "No, I'm- I was just thinking," she said, pulling on the skirt that was the next thing in the line of clothes that Santana had told her to try on. "Sorry."
"Well cut that shit out," Santana said, as if it was that easy. "We don't have all day."
Rachel walked out of the dressing room with the t-shirt and skirt that Santana had basically made her try on. After they'd split up (which Rachel was against but didn't say anything about as she didn't want to say the wrong thing and upset her new friends), Santana had told her in no uncertain terms that all her clothes were hideous and that she was going to burn them. Now that they were "friends", Santana had said using air quotes, she was going to give Rachel the option of not actually being in them when she burned them. She would also use her expertise to help Rachel pick out a new wardrobe.
"I… umm… I don't really have the money for that," Rachel had said, trying to talk her out of it.
"You just leave that to Auntie Santi," Santana had said with a cryptic smile. If she thought Rachel was going to shoplift, though, she had another thing coming to her. She'd already hurt her dads enough with her suicide attempt. She wasn't going to disappoint them even further. Not yet, anyway. It may come to that, but she wasn't going to be a delinquent until then.
"Nice," Santana said, snapping a picture with her phone. She'd been taking pictures of every outfit to send to Quinn and Brittany to get their responses. Brittany always sent something nice back, saying she was pretty or hot or some other lie that was complimentary. Quinn's responses, though, were always more critical/helpful. Because of that, Quinn was the one Santana seemed to trust, though that was one of those things they would never tell Brittany. Santana thrust another dress into Rachel's hands and said, "Next," pushing her back towards the fitting room.
Again she was in the fitting room, taking off clothes, being careful of her stitches on one wrist, tendon brace on the other. Santana had offered to help her get dressed and undressed, but Rachel had declined, even though it would take longer. She didn't want to make Santana have to look at her if she could help it. Santana was used to being around pretty girls like the Cheerios. Rachel "Man-Hands" "Treasure Trail" "RuPaul" "Tranny Queen" Berry didn't even come close to measuring up. She wouldn't force Santana to see her half undressed. Santana is probably glad, Rachel though.
Looking around as she changed into the dress, Rachel tried to remember the name of the store she was in. She couldn't. She guessed she wasn't paying attention when they had come into it. That had been happening a lot today. She wasn't sure if it was the pain meds making her sleepy, the depression meds making her gray, or just the whole 'trying to kill myself' thing that had her that way, but she could tell it was affecting everyone else's day. It made her hate herself just that little bit more.
Finally getting the dress on, Rachel looked into the mirror. She couldn't wear this to school. It was too short, too plunging, too revealing. No one would want to see her like this. And even if they did, she wouldn't want the type of people that would want to look at her looking at her like that. People like Jacob Ben Israel who had some kind of creepy fetish for ugly big-nosed Jewish girls, it seemed. Or people like Puck, who would have sex with anything with breasts and a pulse. Or Finn, who would take one look at her and realize she was trying to whore herself out in a dress like that. She still had some respect.
"I can't wear this, Santana," Rachel said from behind the door.
"What? Why not? Is it too tight?" Santana asked. "Move over, I'm coming in." Before Rachel could protest, Santana was already barging in, looking Rachel over. She stopped, frozen in her tracks. "Wow."
"I know," Rachel said. "I can't pull it off. It's just too much for me. It would look better on someone like you or Brittany or Quinn. I'm not- It's not me."
"No, Berry, good wow," Santana said, still staring. "You're definitely getting that one."
"No, I don't think- ow!" Santana had already grabbed her upper arm, careful to stay away from the stitches on her right forearm, and was pulling her out of the dressing room.
"Stand still, Berry," Santana said, taking another picture and sending it to Quinn and Brittany. Once that was done, she looked over at Rachel. "Now what do you mean you don't think you can work a dress like that? From where I'm standing, you already are."
"That's… flattering, really," Rachel said, looking down, "but I would appreciate it if you wouldn't lie to me. That's not helping anything."
"You think I'm lying to you?" Santana asked, clearly curious.
"I know… I know just how… ugly I am, okay," Rachel said. "And I appreciate what you're trying to do here for me, trying to build my confidence up so that I can go back to school and hold my head up high, but you don't have to lie to me to do it. You can compliment me on my singing or my grades or something, if you'd like. Please just stop lying."
"Wow," Santana said again, looking at her for a minute while her phone buzzed, though she ignored it while she scrutinized Rachel, who was still studiously looking down. "We really did screw you up, didn't we?"
Rachel didn't respond, so Santana took a couple of steps closer putting a comforting hand on Rachel's arm. "Do you know what real power is?" Santana asked, causing Rachel to look up in confusion. "Real power isn't controlling people, getting people to do what you want. Real power is telling a lie and, even though everyone knows it's a lie, getting them to believe it. Quinn and I, we have power at that school."
"So… what?" Rachel asked, anger starting to rise. She knew they were manipulative, but how dare they use it for her benefit after they'd hurt her all this time? How could they ever think that she'd want that? "You're just going to do that and get everyone to believe that I'm pretty when I'm not? Get people to compliment me when they really hate me? I'll still know the truth, Santana! They won't- they're not going to-"
Suddenly, Santana wrapped her arms around Rachel, pulling her into a hug that was so unexpected it startled Rachel into quietness. "No, Berry," Santana said in a soft voice. "We already did it."
"What? I don't…"
"You're beautiful, Berry," Santana said, pulling back to look in her eyes. "A full on hottie. And I don't mean a hot mess, either. I mean 'tie me to the bed and fuck me all night' hot." Stepping back, she looked at Rachel again, who was blushing at the sexual remark. "That hair, that smile, those legs. God, people should build a shrine to those legs. Those are 'wrapped around my waist, three fingers deep' legs."
"Oh my God, Santana," Rachel said with a shocked, embarrassed laugh, covering her face. She had to be completely Kool-Aid Man red by now.
Santana smirked, pulling her phone from her pocket. "Let's see what the troops have to say." She read her phone, laughing. "Brittany says 'Tell Rach that if she ever wants to join us, she totes can'." Now Rachel was wide-eyed, though unable to make eye contact with Santana. "She also says Q is unable to respond but keeps glancing back at the picture and says 'definitely yes' to that one." After putting her phone away, she looked back up at Rachel. "See?"
"I guess," Rachel said doubtfully. "I just don't-" But she was cut off by Santana's phone ringing.
"That's probably Q now telling you to get that dress," Santana said with a smirk, but she looked down at the caller ID, her eyebrows scrunched up. "It's mami." Answering the phone, she said, "Hola, ma-" but was then cut off, holding the phone away from her ear as Rachel heard her mother yelling "Santana Diabla Lopez!" followed by a loud intense shouting in Spanish. Santana looked to be trying to explain herself, but not getting a word in.
"Sí, but-"
"No, but I didn't-"
"No, okay?"
"Yes, I should have-"
"They were-"
"You didn't hear what-"
"Well, then they're not very good Christians."
"No, I don't think that's-"
Eventually she shouted over the top of her mother "They were making fun of Rachel, okay!" Santana was silent for a moment after that as Rachel stared at her, but Santana was facing the other way. Quietly in Spanish, Santana was talking to her mother and even though Rachel had good grades in Mr. Schuester's Spanish class, she had no idea what was said in the low rushed conversation. If Santana's outburst was any indication, though, it was about her. Eventually, Santana turned to Rachel and held the phone out for her, saying, "Mami, would like to speak with you."
"…hello?" Rachel said, holding Santana's phone up to her ear.
"Hello, Rachel," Ms. Lopez said, her sweet voice the complete opposite of what Rachel had heard yelling at Santana. "Santana told me those women from my church were making fun of you. Is that true?"
"Um…" she started, looking at Santana. "I… I think they were, yes."
"It's okay, sweetie," Ms. Lopez said. "You're not in any trouble. I'm just trying to find out what happened before I punish mi idiota."
"Oh, please don't, Ms. Lopez," Rachel said. "She was just being nice and trying to defend me and I don't want her to get in trouble since we're newly established friends. I know I probably brought it on Brittany and myself with them pointing and laughing at me. It's really not anybody's fault but mine. Please don't-"
"Shh, Rachel," Ms. Lopez said, trying to quiet her through the phone. "It's not your fault, okay? Those two putas from my church are to blame, not you. Let me talk to Santana again, please."
Rachel handed the phone back to Santana who was again talking quietly to her mother. After another minute, they hung up, and it left Rachel and Santana staring at each other. "She said we'll talk about it when we get home," Santana said, looking as nervous as Rachel had ever seen her. "That's never good."
"I'm sorry," Rachel said. "I didn't mean to get you into trouble. I shouldn't have-"
"What?" Santana snapped. "Existed? Gone out in public? Tried to have a fun day? That's bullshit. This isn't your fault, Berry. Don't blame yourself for those bitches. Some people are just assholes."
"But, I-"
"No buts, Berry," Santana said, shoving another outfit, this time jeans and a sweater, into her hands. "Go try this on while I text Britts and Q."
After another fifteen minutes of trying on different clothes, Santana finally said over the door, "Okay, Berry, time for a tradeoff. Q's here to spend a little quality time with you while me and Britts go take care of some things. Coolio? So change back into your clothes and get out here."
"Um, I- okay," Rachel said. After putting her jeans, sweatshirt and shoes back on, Rachel exited the fitting room to see Quinn having a whispered conversation with Santana while they smiled and looked at Quinn's cell phone. "What are you two looking at?"
"Nothing," they both said quickly as Quinn stuffed the phone in her pocket.
Rachel eyed them both, unconvinced. She stood there with the last outfit in her hand, face scrunched as she thought. She then looked back at the dressing room, noticed how the door to the dressing room didn't go all the way to the floor or the ceiling, then back to the two of them standing there and looking like they were hiding something, and, suddenly, all the pieces fell into place. "Did you…" It didn't even seem possible. "Did you take… take pictures of me while I was changing? Is that what that is? Is that why you're smiling? Were you… were you laughing-"
"God, no, Rachel," Quinn said. "I promise. I just…" She looked back at Santana who just shrugged, then looked at Rachel again. She sighed, clearly frustrated. "Okay, look, fine. I got you a present for Christmas even though I know you don't really celebrate, and I was just showing it to Santana. That's where she and Brittany are going, to drop it off at my house so you won't see it. I wanted it to be a surprise. It's been a… a rough week, and I thought you could use something to cheer you up, okay?"
"Oh," Rachel said, feeling stupid. "I'm sorry, I just… I thought… I'm sorry."
"It's cool, Berry," Santana said, stepping forward. "It totally sounds like something we would have done. But you have to get it through that tiny Jewish head of yours," she tapped Rachel on the side of the head, "that we're on your side now. We got your back, Jack. Bitches is crazy."
"I'm just… this is all so new to me," Rachel said. "And weird. And I keep thinking that it's going to be some kind of prank. That I'm going to be friends with you three until one day you turn on me in front of the entire school."
"Okay, yeah, that does definitely sound like me and Q here, but not Brittany," Santana said. "Even if you don't trust us yet, trust her. She'd never lie to you, and we'd never lie to her. So if we tell you… if we tell Britts… that you're one of us, then that's how it is."
Rachel was quiet for a moment, looking at the two cheerleaders in front of her. Santana was easy to trust. She knew that Santana would never hurt Brittany if she could help it. Santana had been horrible to her, but she'd always been honest about it. Quinn, on the other hand, was a master manipulator. That had been the rumor even before the paternity debacle. And if she could lie about something as important as the father of her child, how could she be trusted with someone as unimportant as Rachel Berry? They had said in the hospital that they would be honest, though, and so far, she thought that Quinn had been. Their conversations hadn't been in-depth or anything, but she'd cried about her father in front of Rachel. Wasn't that something?
"You're right," Rachel said finally. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Rachel. Really," Quinn said, though the look in her eyes wasn't as sure about it. She looked hurt that Rachel had doubted her, or maybe hurt that she'd given Rachel reason to doubt her. "We should let Santana get going, though. They have to take your present."
"Right," Santana said. "So, this is the pile that we liked," Santana pointed from one stack to the next, "and this is the 'no' pile. The maybes and haven't-tried-on-yet are all here." She pointed to a third and fourth stack. Stooping down, she grabbed everything but the 'no' pile and headed up towards the register. "You bitches coming or not?"
"Santana, wait, I can't pay for-" But Quinn abruptly grabbed her arm and cut her off.
"Don't say anything," Quinn said seriously, almost harshly, but keeping her voice quiet. "I'll explain later. Let Santana do this for you. Say thank you, but don't make a big deal out of it." Then, as suddenly as they had stopped, they were walking again, Rachel being pulled along by Quinn.
At the register, the cashier was already ringing up the clothes and stuffing them into bags. The total came to $617.23. Rachel couldn't help staring as Santana handed her credit card over, but a stern look from Quinn stopped even that.
Once everything was settled, Santana handed the bags over to Quinn, and said, "You make such an adorable pack mule, Q. Merry Christmas, Berry. We'll see you both back at casa de Lopez as soon as you get Trouty Mouth's gift. I'm giving you an hour, Q. We have a lot more movies to watch, so hurry it the fuck up."
"Wow, a whole hour?" Quinn deadpanned. "Thanks, S. You're the best."
"Yes, thank you, Santana," Rachel said, though hers was more sincere.
Santana just gave her a rare genuine smile and nodded her head, then turned back to Quinn. "An hour's twice as long as the 'rents gave you to get the fuck out, if I remember correctly. You'd think you'd be thankful."
Rachel was mortified, as Finn had told her the story of Quinn having thirty minutes set by a microwave timer when her parents kicked her out. Quinn just said, "You suck, Santana."
"Among other things," she said, smirking as she walked away. "Fifty-eight minutes."
On their way to F.Y.E. to get Sam's present, Quinn said, "Santana buying you those clothes is her way of apologizing. That, and making you feel welcome as part of our little group. She took me maternity shopping after my parents kicked me out. It's crazy how on again, off again our friendship was during that time, though I guess Sue forbidding them kind of explains it now. She's not that bad deep down. She just sucks at talking about stuff. She's more about grand gestures than heartfelt conversations. Plus, money's kind of not an object for her." She was silent for a moment before her eyes lit up, and she turned to Rachel. "Oh, and when you start watching Angel, remember today."
"What, why?"
"I'm not going to ruin it," Quinn said, grinning. "Just keep it in mind. You'll know what I'm talking about when you see it."
"…okay?" Rachel walked beside her through the mall, and she could see that people were staring at the two of them, staring at her, but she ignored it as best she could. Quinn, if she noticed, didn't say anything. After another few minutes, a question popped into Rachel's head. "Did… No, never mind. It's stupid."
"No, what, Rach?"
"Did her parents really name her Santana Diabla?" Rachel asked, grinning. "Satan devil?"
"Her mom told me it was a difficult pregnancy," Quinn said, giggling, and it was such music to Rachel's ears that she joined in, too. "And that's after having two kids already. She said the only thing she craved while pregnant was spicy foods. The spicier, the better. She worried for a while that she was possessed by some kind of demon."
"She kind of was," Rachel said, and they were both laughing now as they walked into the store. She followed Quinn over to where the DVDs of different television shows were, picking up the different seasons of Buffy and turning them over to look at the back… until Quinn smacked her good hand. "Ow!"
"Okay, one, that didn't hurt, you baby," Quinn said with a teasing grin. "And two, you can't skip ahead. If you read something on one of the boxes, it might ruin the surprise. So… no. You'll just have to wait until you start watching it for yourself."
"Fine," Rachel said, setting the DVD set back down while pouting a little. She really hated waiting for anything, and she really wanted to know what happened with Buffy and Faith and Angel. She noticed Quinn had already picked up the entire series of Buffy on DVD, as it was the same thing that Santana had shown her back at her house.
"Come on, let's go," Quinn said, grabbing her good hand and leading her away. Her hand felt so soft and warm in Rachel's own, unlike Finn's giant paw. His large, rough hands had always seemed to smother her small hand. Quinn's just seemed to… fit. "Let's get you away from all that temptation," she added with another giggle. Quinn was clearly in a good mood. Maybe it had something to do with Christmas shopping. It was supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year, and shopping did tend to make-
"Oh, no!" Rachel halted in the middle of the store so suddenly that her hand was unceremoniously jerked out of Quinn's. When Quinn looked back at her, Rachel said, "You bought me a present."
"Yeah?" Quinn said. "I told you that already. I thought you would like something to kind of help after this week."
"You bought me a present," Rachel said again. "A Christmas present."
"…yes?" Quinn said haltingly. "Is this because you're Jewish, or…?"
"You bought me a Christmas present two days before Christmas," Rachel said, almost desperately. "And I only have less than an hour to find something for you? Two days before Christmas? Oh, no. No, no, no. I can't find a meaningful, perfect gift for you in that time. Maybe if I'd been given more notice, but not in an hour two days before Christmas. And- why are you laughing at me?!" Rachel wasn't panicking per se, not like she had back in the other store with the women, but Quinn's laughter wasn't exactly helping her either.
"I'm… I'm sorry, R… Rachel," Quinn said between bouts of laughing. People were staring at them, but this time they were staring more at the blonde laughing in the middle of the store rather than at Rachel. After she had calmed down some, Quinn finally said, "That was just such a 'Rachel Berry' thing to say it took me by surprise. It was like you were back to your old self for a minute."
"I…" Rachel started, stopped, started again, and stopped again, finally going back to what she had said in the hospital. She stumbled over the thoughts in her head. It was Quinn's doing. Her dads were more caring and Brittany was sweet and Santana was all 'tough love' but Quinn…? Quinn talked to her and treated her like she was just Rachel, and it made her feel better. "You…" she started again, quietly, and Quinn stepped forward to hear her better, stepping into her personal space. "You make it better. You make me feel… normal."
Quinn stared at her for a long moment, and Rachel could tell by the look in her eyes that she wanted to say something, but instead she shook her head and sniffed, holding back unshed tears. "Then that," Quinn said, voice thick, "is all the present I need." And she took Rachel's hand again in hers, Rachel again feeling how right it felt, and pulled her along. "Let's get out of here before Santana sends a search party."
As they paid for Sam's present, Quinn again taking her hand to leading her out of the mall, again opening her door for her when they reached Quinn's car, Rachel had to wonder if it was possible to raise a sunken ship.
They arrived back at Santana's house with seven minutes to spare. Santana and Brittany were waiting in Santana's car in her driveway. They didn't seem to notice when Quinn and Rachel had pulled up. Only once Quinn had again opened Rachel's door and held her good hand as she helped her out, then went over to the driver's side of Santana's car did she see why. Santana's windows were slightly fogged, but she could still easily see that the two were feverishly making out with Brittany nearly straddling the Latina. How she managed to do it with the steering wheel in the way amazed Quinn, but she was already feeling like a creeper staring at them. Any more gawking while trying to figure out the placement of body parts would make it officially weird. Reaching out, Quinn knocked a couple of times on the window, causing a startled Santana to look up, though Brittany didn't seem to mind the audience as she continued to kiss along Santana's neck.
Only after Santana pushed her back some did Brittany lazily reach over, pressing the down button for the window on the door panel. "Oh, hey, Q," Brittany said, happiness lighting up her flushed face. "I was just giving San a preview of what she could expect tonight for playing hero today. Also, she was scared to go in yet."
"I wasn't scared," Santana defended, gently pushing Brittany back into her own seat. "I just thought mami wouldn't be as quick to kill me with more witnesses around."
"Was she that mad?" Quinn asked as Brittany and Santana got out of the car.
"Boob job mad," Santana said. The fallout from Ms. Lopez discovering that Santana had forged her parents' signatures for permission for the surgery had been epic. Santana had said later that her argument of it being her own saved up money, her own body, and the fact that she was an adult were apparently unimportant as Ms. Lopez had nearly yelled herself hoarse and threatened to "rip those implants straight out" if she ever did anything so "stupid, immature, and dangerous" again. "I still can't believe you ratted me out about that."
"I said I wouldn't tell your parents," Quinn said as she and Rachel followed Santana and Brittany towards the house. "I never said anything about Coach Sue."
Santana stopped, hand on the doorknob and turned to face Quinn. "And that is a piece of bitchcraft I would love to have seen," Santana said, appreciating Quinn's deviousness. "Coach swore last year she'd never let you back on the team. That you had let her down personally, and she had to stoop to 'William Schuester levels of pedantic pandering'," she threw in air quotes, mocking the woman, "by getting Kurt to sing and help us win nationals." Santana shrugged. "How you got that woman to let you back on the team is beyond me."
"And that's why I'm the captain," Quinn said, matching Santana's devious smile with a smirk of superiority.
"Whatever, bitch," Santana said. "You got me put on the bottom of the pyramid."
"I also got you off the bottom two weeks later," Quinn said. Her face straightened up into one of seriousness, and she added, "And, really, you're not mad about it. We both know you never wanted to be in charge. You love the power, not the responsibility. That's why you're my lieutenant, my enforcer. You get all the fun of putting the lesser people in their place and don't have to sit with me and coach planning out routines or working out choreography with Britt and Christy." Santana turned away, looking out over the yard. "Tell me I'm wrong."
"Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that, Cap," Santana said, but they both knew she was right. Santana hated putting effort into much of anything beyond insulting people for her own amusement. Though wickedly smart, she was a doer, not a planner. To her, that's why the world made people like Rachel Berry. To Quinn, though, cheerleading was the best of both worlds. The nerdier side of Lucy loved planning out routines and choreography as much as the physical side of Quinn loved performing it. Cheerleading was one of the few things she would have loved about William McKinley even if it hadn't made her high school royalty. The popularity was just frosting. "Just watch your back, puta."
"I'm a Fabray," Quinn said, shrugging. "I always do."
Santana opened the door, leading the four of them into the house. As Santana lead the way, they all knew to be as quiet as possible on their trip back to the basement, though none of them spoke of it. Ms. Lopez was a force to be reckoned with when angry, so they took caution to not alert her to their return if they could help it. Not that it mattered much.
"Santana, baby," Ms. Lopez said from her seat at the kitchen table where she had been working on her laptop, probably waiting for them to return. So far her voice was calm, but that didn't really comfort anyone. "Come over here."
Santana's eyes scrunched up and she let out a silent "fuck" before turning her head over to her mom. "Si, mami." Looking over at the other three, she said, "You guys can go ahead to the basement. I'll be down in a bit."
"No, stay," Ms. Lopez said. "This involves all of you." The four shared confused looks but all went over to where Ms. Lopez now stood by her chair, looking at them. To Santana at the head of the group, she said with a smile, though her tone was serious, "Santana, baby, you know I love you, but if you ever talk to an adult like that again in public, I'll bury you under the house. They'll never find the body, mija." Turning to the rest of them, she added, "Brittany, Quinn, you know I love you girls, too, but if you let mi idiota do that again, I will put the two of you beside her." When she'd finished, she looked at them. "Understood?"
"Si, mami," Santana said while the other three nodded and said, "Yes, ma'am."
Noting Rachel, Ms. Lopez's look softened. "Oh, no. Not you, sweetie. You didn't do anything wrong."
"Yeah, you have to put time in before you get death threats, Berry," Santana said.
"Santana," Ms. Lopez said, making her name a warning.
"Lo siento, mami," Santana said, automatically apologetic. They all knew this could have gone much worse than the simple warning that Ms. Lopez was giving them.
"It's okay, baby," Ms. Lopez said, reaching out and patting Santana on the cheek a little harder than necessary. "Your mouth es muy estupida, but I know your heart doesn't mean it." They shared a smile before she added, "Now go and finish watching your movies. I'm ordering pizza for dinner because your father's working late tonight, so tell me what you want."
"Berry's vegan, so we need one of those crappy pizzas Izzy ate when she went vegan for a semester and a half," Santana said, turning to look back at Rachel, Quinn, and Brittany. "All meat for me, and a supreme with no olives or onions for Quinn and Britt. Anything else, bi- …guys?" Ms. Lopez arched an eyebrow at Santana's almost slipup, but she chose not to say anything about it.
"Oh! Can we get cheesy bread?" Brittany asked.
"Pizza is cheesy bread, Britts," Quinn said. "It's redundant to get cheesy bread, too." Santana was staring hard and angry at Quinn, though, so she added, "And by that I mean, sure we can!"
"Yay!" Brittany said, clapping. Turning to Rachel, she said, "I like to put the cheesy bread on top of the pizza slice and make a little pizza-y sandwich."
"I think some places have those," Rachel said, turning to Brittany. "They're like Hot Pockets, but more professional. My Daddy brings them home sometimes. The Hot Pockets, not the pizza-sandwich thing. He loves them, but Dad and I can't comprehend why. I think it has something to do with the gross amount of cheese and meat stuffed inside the greasy bread. Whenever he used to microwave them in the morning, they would stink up the whole… kitchen… and…" And it was at that point that Rachel suddenly realized all eyes were on her as she was talking to Brittany. Words seemed to fail her, and she wrapped her arms around herself. "It's not important."
Everyone else had been focused on what Rachel was saying, curiously listening to her as she momentarily ranted about Hot Pockets. It made Quinn smile that she had been going on about something so unimportant, and that feeling of old-Rachel being just below the surface of this newer version struck her again.
"Sure it is, Rachel," Brittany said, encouraging the brunette. "They'd stink up the whole kitchen and…?"
Rachel looked around at the rest of them, patiently waiting for her to finish what she was saying, and Quinn thought it must have been strange for her that people actually wanted her to finish what she was saying. "I just… um… I was just saying that Dad used to get mad about it. It's actually why Dad started cooking breakfast in the mornings. So Daddy wouldn't eat them anymore."
"That's so cool that your Dad makes breakfast every morning," Brittany said, face aglow. The girl was like a puppy, sometimes, in the way that everything excited her. Quinn knew she was turning it up for Rachel's benefit, encouraging her to get involved, and she could have kissed her for it, if not for the obvious reasons. Santana's crazy jealousy, Quinn wasn't gay, etc. "My parents are so busy getting us all out of the house that we usually just have cereal or something. Sometimes Santana brings me stuff. Her mom makes the best sopapillas for breakfast." Her face, if it was possible, lit up even more as she turned to Ms. Lopez. "Oh! Can we have-"
"I already got the ingredients for everything, baby," Ms. Lopez said, using the same pet name for her that she used for Santana and Isabelle. To Ms. Lopez, this tall blonde white girl with the blue eyes had become like another daughter to her and her husband. No matter what might happen between her and their daughter.
"You're the best, mami," Brittany said, running over to throw her arms around Ms. Lopez. The older woman just wrapped her up in her arms, squeezing her just as fiercely.
Quinn glanced over at Santana who had this proud, happy look watching two of the women she loved the most get along so well. If Santana's expression could talk, if Quinn could suddenly read thoughts, then Santana would be saying loud and clear 'I'm going to marry that girl one day.' God, Santana was so stupid. What they shared wasn't sex for fun like Santana tried to convince Brittany and Quinn and everyone else that it was. It was love. Pure and simple. Fuck it, Quinn thought. As her best friend and head bitch, I'm going to have to smack Santana repeatedly until she realizes it, too.
After getting another warning from Ms. Lopez about behaving in public, though she did take Santana aside and say she was proud of her for standing up for Rachel, the four went back downstairs to the basement. Santana and Brittany took up residency in Santana's recliner again. Rachel, after taking some pills, lay back down on the sofa, and Quinn took the chair she'd had earlier in the morning. They ended up watching the first two The Santa Clause movies (since Santana refused to watch the third, citing she hadn't seen "Christmas themed asininity that bad since Mr. Schue's Christmas tie-sweater vest combo") before pizza came.
At some point during the second movie, Rachel had fallen asleep and had to be woken up for dinner. Quinn sat down at her feet, looking down at her, listening to the sounds of Brittany, Santana, Ms. Lopez, and Emilio and Tiffany, Santana's brother and sister-in-law. They had come over to visit with Santana's mom for a while after they had finished some last minute Christmas shopping. Quinn had let Santana and Brittany go on ahead, saying that she would wake Rachel.
The lamp beside Santana's chair was on, but the overhead lights of the basement were still out. Rachel clutched the throw pillow tightly to her, nearly blocking her face, and strands of hair fell over her eyes. She felt bad for Rachel, though that was nothing out of the ordinary in this past week. What was surprising was that it was about something so little and stupid. Rachel had told her between nervous texts the night before that this was her first sleepover, and here Rachel was sleeping through part of it. Leroy had warned Quinn that the pain meds for her healing wrists might make Rachel sleepy, but she had held up so far today. Still, Quinn knew that Rachel would feel bad for missing part of it.
Gently, Quinn stroked the hair back from Rachel's forehead, tucking it behind her ear. It was just a simple gesture but so intimate, and Quinn was glad that Santana and Brittany weren't around to see it. Brittany's giant smile, wanting to urge her on to just go for it. Santana's curious look that would turn into her patented bitch smirk whenever she figured it out. She loved her friends completely, but that didn't stop her from hating them both sometimes. She couldn't be interested in Rachel. She couldn't.
"Rachel," Quinn called softly, rubbing her upper arm, her shoulder. "Rachel, wake up. Pizza's here." Rachel stirred briefly but clutched the pillow tighter, a moan escaping her lips. It wasn't a good moan, which Quinn then had to chastise herself for wishing to hear Rachel's 'good moans'. It was a groan, a pained sound. A hurt sound. "Rachel," Quinn said, a little louder, a little more scared, a little more forcefully.
Another sound escaped Rachel this time, some cross between a groan and a choked cry before her eyes bolted open and she gasped. She raised up quickly, looking around in that bleary eyed disoriented state of the freshly woken. It was clear she had no idea where she was, and for that split second her eyes were wide and panicked. When her line of sight finally fell on Quinn, she threw her arms around the startled blonde's neck and started sobbing into her shoulder.
"Hey, hey," Quinn said, wrapping her arms around Rachel's waist and pulling her closer, tighter to her. She tried to shush the brunette with assurances that it was all a dream, that everything was okay, that she was safe and sound at Santana's house and they were watching movies.
"I- I dreamed-" Rachel started, violently shaking in Quinn's arms. They were the only words she was able to get out, though, before Santana and Brittany came bustling down the steps.
"Hey, bitches, the pizza's getting cold and-" Santana's words were stopped by a raised hand and a stern glare from Quinn who immediately wrapped her arms back around Rachel. Brittany and Santana sat staring at the scene as Quinn just held the tiny trembling brunette close and whispered phrases in her ear that she hoped to God she could back up. Things like "it'll be okay" and "I'm here" and "you're okay now".
After a few solid minutes of silence, Rachel finally peeled herself away from Quinn's now damp shoulder. Quinn reached up and wiped the tear tracks from her cheeks, lifting the sheepish brunette's face until she was looking into Rachel's chocolate brown irises. "How about we get some pizza now? Okay?"
Rachel nodded, smiling and embarrassed. When Quinn rose from the couch and offered Rachel her hand, she took it, melding herself into Quinn's side as they walked towards the stairs of the basement. Brittany and Santana, who had been watching the scene the entire time, gave Quinn a questioning look, but she just shot back a tired, sad smile.
Upstairs, Quinn said hello to Emilio and Tiffany as quickly and politely as she could before she was back into the kitchen to Rachel. She got the two of them plates and pizza, moving around the familiar kitchen while Rachel was never more than a couple of feet away from her. It was like she was a nervous child at a strange party and Quinn was the protective parent… and then Quinn was suddenly internally cringing at that analogy. She was protective of Rachel, but not parental. That was just… icky. It was cute, though, the way Rachel never wanted to be too far from Quinn. It was… nice.
Back downstairs with pizza in hand, Quinn exchanged more worried glances with Brittany and Santana. They wisely chose not to say anything about Rachel or Quinn, and Quinn found herself back to loving them again. Few people realized the importance of just letting things go sometimes.
Quinn set her plate down on the coffee table while she went to get bottles of water for herself and Rachel, then came back and joined Rachel on the couch. Rachel smiled her thanks but didn't say it aloud, and Quinn was again thankful.
Though the couch was big enough for all four of them if they wanted to squeeze in and definitely big enough for just Rachel and Quinn, Quinn still found herself sitting right next to Rachel, knees and elbows gently brushing against each other as they ate. It wasn't like she'd purposely sat that close to the brunette. Just, as they readjusted, as Quinn moved to get her water bottle off of the coffee table, as Rachel moved her leg, they found themselves magnetically drawn to one another. By the end of Jack Frost, their empty plates were on the table, Rachel's head was on Quinn's shoulder, and Quinn's arm was wrapped around Rachel's waist. She found herself absentmindedly playing with the belt loops on Rachel's jeans while they watched the movie and thinking that this might be one of her favorite holiday moments ever.
At some point, Quinn looked over at the clock on the wall and realized it was almost midnight. She knew if they were going to go jogging tomorrow, they should probably go to bed. Brittany was already asleep on top of Santana and Rachel was again passed out with her head in Quinn's lap while Quinn stroked fingers through her hair or drug nails lightly over her scalp. Quinn told herself that it was purely in an effort to keep her from having any more nightmares, and as long as she didn't question it too hard, she was okay with that excuse.
Once the current movie, Die Hard (because Santana wanted to see it, Brittany didn't care, Quinn had used up her veto already, and Rachel was curious about it), was rolling credits, Quinn looked over to Santana and said quietly, "I think it's time for bed."
"It's barely late," Santana said, also quietly as to try and not wake the blonde wrapped around her. "When did you get so old?"
"No, she's right," Brittany said sleepily, eyes peering up at Santana from where her head lay on her chest. "I still need to give you your reward." As an incentive, Brittany put her mouth over Santana's clothed breast and did some nuzzling, kissing thing that had Quinn feeling uncomfortable being in the same room as them.
"Okay! Enough of that!" Quinn called out loudly, starling Rachel into wakefulness. "Shit, sorry, Rach," Quinn said quietly to the brunette that was now sitting up sleepily beside her. "I just, umm… They were…" Rachel's gaze followed Quinn's own as Brittany was still playfully nuzzling Santana's breasts while Santana had her eyes closed and a blissful look on her face. Rachel turned back to Quinn with wide eyes and a blush to match Quinn's own. "Yeah. We should go. Like, right now."
Standing and pulling Rachel along with her, Quinn grabbed hers and Rachel's overnight bags and led her up the steps of the basement, hearing Santana's moan of pleasure as Quinn shut the door behind them. Still holding Rachel's hand, which was a stupid habit that Quinn desperately needed to break, she led them upstairs, showing Rachel the bathroom and their guest bedroom. She told Rachel that there were actually two guest bedrooms, but that neither one of them should have to suffer through having the one closest to Santana's bedroom. Instead, they would be sharing the further one. Only when they were actually in there with the door shut did Quinn realize that meant sharing a bed. Fuck.
"So, umm…" Quinn started off, staring at the bed. "I'll just uh… I can sleep on the floor. Yeah."
"Nonsense," Rachel said, now more awake. "It's a queen size bed. There's plenty of room for both of us." She was biting her lip, though, and looking at the bed like she was calculating sleeping area. Knowing Rachel, she actually might have been.
"I would really hate to hurt your wrists, though, by, like, rolling over in the middle of the night or something," Quinn said. "You're already injured enough as it is."
"No, it'll be fine," Rachel said. "I'm small. We're both skinny. There's plenty of room."
"It's okay, really," Quinn said. "They have a bunch of extra blankets and stuff. I'll just put some on the floor over here. It'll be like camping."
"No, Quinn," Rachel said, crossing her arms. "I won't feel comfortable taking the bed. If you insist on being stubborn, then I'm just going to take the other guest bedroom." She walked over to the door and opened it, looked out and saw a topless Brittany pushed up against a door and making out with Santana, and quickly slammed it again. "I can't go out there."
"Told you," Quinn said.
"Fine," Rachel huffed. "If you won't sleep on the bed, then neither will I." She reached for one of the pillows and dropped it down on the floor beside the bed. "We can both share the floor."
"Rachel, wait," Quinn said, walking over and grabbing her hands to stop her from stripping the blankets off the bed. "This is stupid. You're right. I'm sorry. There's plenty of room here. I was just trying to be… I don't know. Agreeable?"
"It was very chivalrous," Rachel said. And that was odd. No one had ever called Quinn chivalrous before. It was yet another unexpectedly nice thing that came from being around Rachel. No, it didn't feel nice. It felt… right.
Rachel and Quinn took their overnight bags with them to the bathroom where they changed while facing away from each other, brushed their teeth, and finished all their other nighttime rituals. Rachel explained to Quinn that she had a much longer nighttime routine but she had truncated it into a more "travel-friendly" version. Quinn had nodded along while repeatedly reminding herself not to stare at Rachel's legs in her super-short sleep shorts.
Rachel texted her fathers goodnight as she had promised to do. The brunette had called them earlier in the night to tell them about her day so far, about the mall and going jogging tomorrow morning with Quinn, Brittany, and Santana. She had been honest with them, telling them about the women at the mall and how Santana had defended her. She didn't go into the details of Santana's embarrassment of the women; just that she had stood up for her.
They had then called Quinn later to get more information from her, and she had gone into detail about the incident. She then told them about Santana buying Rachel new clothes. She also told the Misters Berry about her Christmas present for Rachel, the reading she'd done, and the reasoning behind it. They thought it was a nice idea, but worried that she may not like it, telling her how Rachel had given away other pets, as they weren't 'perfect'. It was nearly identical to what Brittany had said that morning. Quinn could only trust the taller blonde's wisdom, and, yes, Quinn recognized that statement worried her, but Brittany knew people.
Rachel had never asked who kept calling Quinn throughout the day, and Quinn never told her. She wasn't sure if Rachel was just giving her the opportunity not to lie to her, or if she thought that it wasn't any of her business. Either way, she was thankful she didn't have to lie.
Back in the bedroom, Quinn watched as Rachel got into bed, perhaps a little too closely. The shorts she wore were absurdly short, and Rachel's tanned, toned thighs enticed Quinn to thoughts she knew she shouldn't be having. Thankfully Rachel didn't catch her staring. As she flipped off the light and made her way over to the edge of the bed guided only by the winter moonlight drifting in through the window, she wondered if Rachel was as nervous as she was.
Which was stupid.
Rachel was her friend. Her straight friend. She'd only dated Finn, Puck, and Jesse as far as she knew, and she'd never so much as talked about liking another girl before. Whatever looks she might have given Quinn were out of… hero worship or something. They weren't out of any interest. That was just Quinn's perverse thoughts being reflected onto how she saw Rachel, and she needed to stop it. In fact, it was ignorant and close-minded to even think that just because her fathers were gay meant that she might be gay, too. Brittany's parents weren't gay. Neither were Santana's. And her own parents- no. Her own parents didn't factor into this because Quinn was most definitely not gay.
"Quinn?" Rachel asked, reaching over and taking her hand under the blankets in the dark. "I just… I just wanted to say thanks. For inviting me. I've never had a sleepover before. This has been… fun."
"I'm glad you came," Quinn said, squeezing her hand. Quinn looked over at the digital clock that read 12:47am. "I know you don't celebrate it, but… Merry Christmas Eve, Rachel."
"Merry Christmas Eve."