Author's Note: I personally blame Netflix for the lack of updates. But I did catch up on How I Met Your Mother and finally started watching Supernatural. I've heard good things about Orange is the New Black on Tumblr, too, so I'm looking forward to that next.

As always, thanks for the reviews, the follows, and the favorites. Each one is important to me, and I try to take the time to respond to every review I can (unless I accidentally delete the email without thinking. In that case, sorry whoever that was!) Feel free to leave me a review if you feel like it. They seriously make my day better.

Now for a little Pezberry…

The next few days flew by in a haze for Rachel as the end of 2010 approached. She wasn't depressed. She wasn't really much of anything. Neither content nor anxious, peaceful nor restless, neither angry nor happy nor sad. It wasn't the gray feeling that had been plaguing her for the last week and a half either. It was… blankness. She didn't really feel anything. Rachel likened it to the last few moments just before she fell asleep. That feeling of 'I exist, and that is all'. After so much… everything… it was actually a nice change. Everything was just kind of low key. Maybe this new medication was actually helping. That wasn't to say that she couldn't feel emotions, though.

Tuesday morning had been another running morning, and she hated it, she hated Santana. She felt so peaceful afterwards, however, that she considered it worth it. …And Rachel didn't really hate Santana, either. She wasn't 'motivating' Rachel as she had that first morning (thanks to Brittany's intervention), but there was still that look in her eyes of 'I will kick your ass if you don't do this because I know you can, bitch'. Rachel had no doubt she was a good enforcer for Captain Quinn if one look could say that.

Rachel gave a little salute and a giggle as she finished getting changed for the sleepover as she thought that. "Captain Quinn," she said again, giggling. It was cute.

She always changed clothes in the bathroom. Now, especially. Her fathers wouldn't accidentally see her getting dressed or undressed this way since the 'doors open all the time' rule was still in effect. Not that that specific rule was the reason she was changing in the bathroom. No, it was one of Rachel's personal rules that caused that habit to start. Rachel had been changing clothes in her bathroom ever since finding the picture in ninth grade. No one could possibly see her from her window from where she changed in the corner of the bathroom.

The rest of Tuesday had been devoted to Buffy the Vampire Slayer. She was up to season three now. While watching television that night, Santana had just seemed to appear in the doorway to her bedroom, taking off her shoes and plopping down on the bed beside her, back against the headboard with an "oh, this is a good episode." It had turned out to be.

Once the credits for that episode were rolling, Rachel had finally asked, "So why are you here?"

Santana gasped, loudly and clearly fake. "I'm offended by that, Berry. I thought we were all BFF now?"

"I didn't mean to offend you," Rachel said simply. "But we're not really best friends. That's me and Brittany. Maybe Quinn. Not you."

Santana cocked an eyebrow at her (not as well as Quinn could have, Rachel thought, but Quinn did a lot of stuff better than anyone else), looking amused. "Wow, Berry, tell me how you really feel."

"You don't want me to do that," Rachel muttered.

"You actually have no idea what I want," Santana countered. "You may be getting all touchy-feely with Quinn and her fucked up emotions. And Brittany, sweet as she is, is pretty simple to figure out. But me? You don't know me. So don't even try to tell me what I want and don't want, k?"

"Fine," Rachel said, turning to fully face her. "You really want to know?"

"I'm all ears, tiny."

"Okay, I think you're mostly a decent person, but you cover it up with so much bitch that people generally hate to be around you. I think you're mad that Brittany's dating Artie, but I think you're even angrier that you don't have the guts to be out and proud and with her. Even worse, I think you look at someone like Kurt who is a 'loser' and the way he's proud of who he is, and it tears you up inside because you wish you had half of his courage." Rachel paused and looked over at Santana who had a grimace on her face. "Is that what you wanted?"

"Something like that, yeah," Santana said, settling back in. She reached over for the remote and pressed play for the next episode. After the teaser, once the opening credits were running, she added, "I think I might like this new Rachel Berry."

"My therapist said I needed to be more honest with people," Rachel said, settling back beside her. She reached over to her nightstand and pulled a bag of kettle popcorn off of it. "Popcorn?"

Santana took the offered bag and opened it, shoving a handful into her mouth. "Mfanks"

After a few minutes of the episode, Rachel reached for the remote and paused it. "Why did you want me to say all that to you?"

Santana sighed. "I should have known this was a bad idea. You're totally the type that wants to talk about feelings. God, Berry, stop being such a girl." When Rachel didn't move to start the episode back, Santana sighed again, louder and disgruntled. "Fine. Let's share. I see you out there running and looking at me like you want to punch me. I get it. I'm a bitch. You hate me. According to Cap, it's all part of the process, but it sucks big fat donkey balls. So I thought, 'Wouldn't it would be a nice little peace offering to let you get some licks in without me cutting a bitch for it?'" She paused, appraising Rachel. "So do you feel better?"

"Not really," Rachel said, shaking her head.

"Yeah, me neither. Hmm…" They were quiet for a minute. "So, more Buffy?"

Rachel reached over and started it again, then after another few minutes, paused it again. "So you really came over because you were worried about how I was feeling about running?"

"Well, yeah, Berry," Santana said. "You're one of us now. I takes care of my own." Rachel was touched at that. Maybe Santana was actually starting to lik- "Well, that, and everyone else was busy."

"Oh," Rachel said dejectedly.

"Yeah, 'oh'," Santana agreed. "Britts is out with the human four-wheeler, Quinn is on a date with fishy-face, Puck is having some idiotic 'boys night' with the rest of the Glee guys, and I don't really hang with Bitty Bitty Chang-Chang or Florida. So I guess it's just you and me tonight, Allyn King."

Rachel gasped and turned to Santana. "I cannot believe you just called me that!"

"And I'm totally not surprised you knew who it was," Santana said, reaching for another handful of popcorn.

"I'm surprised you knew who she was."

"Hey, I'll do the research when it's important."

Rachel sat there, shocked for a bit, but after a moment, a smile upturned her lips. "I want to be irritated with you that you think insulting me is more important to research than, say, your homework or Glee assignments, but I'm still a little shocked that you basically just said I was important."

"Did I?" Santana asked. "Oh, well. Slip of the tongue, Berry. Don't get used to it."

"You sure do keep mentioning that tonight," Rachel said, taking the bag of popcorn from Santana and getting a handful for herself. "Slip of the tongue. Letting me get my licks in. You must really be missing Brittany."

"Berry," Santana said, blushing slightly. "You're bordering on one of those subjects that will definitely get a bitch cut. Watch it, chiclet."

"Sorry," Rachel said, though smirking proudly. She could play back with Santana. Why not? Not like she had anything to lose really. Rachel started the episode back, and the two girls got through another few minutes before Rachel stopped it again. "What's it like?"

"What's what like?" Santana asked. She looked over at the screen and saw Buffy staking a vampire. "Killing someone?" She nodded towards the screen. "No idea, Berry. Why? You getting ideas about some payback on Finnidiot? Because that might be a little far. Besides, if you offed him, I think I'd be on that list, too, and then it'd be on like frosting on a fat kid's face."

"No," Rachel said, appalled. "I wouldn't… I mean, I was the one at fault, right?"

"Yeah you were," Santana said. "Figured you would have learned from Tubbers to never use Puck as a go-to for cheating. Never ends well."

"I guess," Rachel said, sighing. She crossed her arms and slumped down on the bed, pressing start on the remote. Of course Santana had to bring up something else she felt horribly guilty about. She should have never cheated on Finn. It was stupid and wrong, and she'd only done it because she'd been hurt. It had been… pleasant… making out with Puck as he was far more talented than Finn. But when Puck is the voice of reason in a situation, Rachel thought, it means I've really screwed up. The irony didn't escape her that the person Finn hurt her with was sitting there beside her. Life was strange…

Santana reached over and snatched the remote. "Nope," Santana said, dragging her from her thoughts. "Now what were you asking? What is what like?"

"I was just…" Rachel started, licking her suddenly dry lips. "I made that joke about you missing Brittany, and that got me thinking… What's it like? Being with another girl?"

"It's kind of like being with a guy," Santana said. "Except, you know, softer. And they smell better. And taste better. And generally have a better idea of what they're doing in bed. I mean, not that I've slept with a lot of girls. Just Brittany. But, yeah. Generally better."

"Oh," Rachel said. "Well that's kind of what I was thinking." This time she bit her lip in thought but happened to catch Santana's eye as she did it. The Latina was staring at her lips. "Would you, maybe… want to… you know. Show me?" At Santana's shocked look, Rachel quickly backpedaled. "I don't mean sex!" Then, realizing how loud she had said that and that her fathers were in the house, she lowered her voice. "I didn't mean sex. I just meant… like… a kiss. I've never kissed another girl before, and it's something I've always been interested-"

"Berry-"

"-in, as I guess you probably know from our conversation at your house, and I think it would help my confusion immensely if I were to be able to kiss someone of the same sex, especially if that someone was as attractive as you. And I know I could probably ask Brittany to do it, and she'd probably gladly help me out, but I didn't think you would be all that pleased with that scenario… which, judging by the murderous look in your eye at just my mere mention of it seems to be the case. However, I-"

"Berry, calm your-"

"-don't think she'd actually mind if you kissed me, though I have to imagine she'd be rather upset that she wasn't here to actually witness said event, seeing as how she seems to be turned on by the idea of two attractive females kissing if our conversations about Buffy and Faith are anything to go on. Not that I especially consider myself attractive, but Brittany does seem to think there are attractive features about me that seem to turn her on even though I would never purposely do that. I know she only really wants-"

"Berry!"

"….you." Rachel was quieted as Santana pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, shaking her head.

"Jesucristo," Santana muttered, keeping her eyes closed.

"Santana, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Stop. Fucking. Talking," Santana said. "Jesus! You and your fucking run-ons…" They were quiet for a minute or two, Santana still with eyes closed. Finally, she opened them and looked up at Rachel. "Okay, here's what we're going to do. I'm willing to do this, just once, because I still feel guilty about all the shit I've put you through, but, after this? If you don't fucking forgive me? We're done. I'll still have your back for Q and B's sake, but nothing else. And I mean like, heartfelt forgive, okay? This makes us totally even. For everything. Clean slate. If you can't do that, let me know right now, okay? And we'll forget this convo ever happened."

Rachel stood and began pacing silently while Santana seemingly uninterestedly watched her and munched on popcorn. Rachel was thinking about everything the Latina had done to her. All the slushees, all the insults, all the times she'd made her cry. Her list of bullying was longer than Quinn's, though only because she had known Santana longer. The girl had been her tormentor for nine years. There was no way that this was even close to equal. Not even close enough to get her to forgive Santana.

Downstairs, she heard Leroy and Hiram banging some kind of pots or pans around as they were cooking dinner together, something they almost never did anymore. Rachel could only imagine that it was because they were trying to do something as a couple, something their marriage counselor had suggested to them. They'd had their first marriage counselling session that afternoon. Hiram had come back home with his eyes looking puffy and red, but that wasn't unusual. He and Rachel were the criers in the family. Leroy almost never did. But he didn't seem angry. If anything, they seemed a little cautious of each other, with far less bickering. It seemed like they were trying.

She looked back over to Santana, and Rachel tried to put herself in the other girl's place and imagine what this must be like for her. Kissing a girl, another girl, would be admitting to herself and to Rachel that she was at least bisexual. Something that she had pretty much done already, but this was different. What Rachel was doing was unfair. It was almost emotional blackmail, asking Santana to be okay enough with her sexuality to help Rachel. To admit that it wasn't just a Brittany-specific thing she felt, but something for girls in general. It had to be difficult. Especially for someone like Santana who, as much as she claimed to be a badass, still wore her Catholicism for anyone to see. If there was anyone in the town that would be okay with Santana being gay, it'd be Rachel, but she still knew it had to be hard. Even with her own dads, Rachel had never admitted that she was possibly bisexual. She concluded that, if there was no girl to talk about then there was nothing to tell.

And Santana had apologized. Rachel was a generally forgiving person, usually to her detriment. So if Santana would be willing to do this for her, and she'd already apologized? How could Rachel not forgive her? Besides, she really wanted to know what it was like.

It was like everything she might be feeling for Quinn was hinging on it. How could she even know if she was genuinely attracted to Quinn or if she just had hero-worship blinders on? In ninth grade, she'd fantasized about her, but that might have been because she was talented and Head Cheerio. Now, she was fantasizing about her again, but the other girl had saved her life. So what if it wasn't a genuine attraction to girls? What if it was just Quinn? Quinn was pretty, and Rachel was attracted to her. Being attracted to someone pretty that she might have a crush on and having an actual physical response to attractive girls in general were two very different things, though. Rachel needed to have a control group, and that could be Santana. A girl that Rachel was attracted to that she definitely didn't hero worship. If there was a physical response there, then she maybe she would know more about how she felt with Quinn.

"Okay," Rachel said eventually. "I forgive you." Before Santana could say anything else, Rachel added, "And you don't even have to do this for that. I mean, I forgive you either way. You apologized, and you're willing to do this for me. So… yes. I forgive you."

Santana's expression softened at that. "Thank you." She reached out and patted the place where Rachel had been sitting, and Rachel came back over and sat down, pulling her legs under her. "So, okay. We're doing this by my rules, Berry. Rule number one: no one knows about this. Ever. I'm talking, like, you take it to your fucking grave, okay? Two? No emotions. This is educational/recreational. Not because I like you. Not because you like me. Got it? I don't need you fucking pining over me next week, making puppy eyes at me in Glee Club like some kind of Finn Hudson."

"What? Finn never-"

"Oh, like we didn't all see his bullshit when you were dating Jesse," Santana shot back. "'Jesse's girl'? Not exactly subtle. Y Madre de Dios, I swear if you do develop some kind of fucked up feelings after this- which you fucking better not- but if you do? And you sing a song about it in Glee? I will ends you. Hard."

"No feelings," Rachel said. "Got it."

Santana thought for a bit, then added, "Rule number three. You owe me."

"I owe you what?"

"I don't know yet," Santana said. "But when I do, I'll let you know. Until then, you just owe me."

Rachel huffed. "Fine."

"Good." Santana scooted closer to Rachel, but Rachel instinctively moved away from her, causing the Latina to chuckle. "You know it only works if you're over her, chiquita."

"Right, I know, sorry," Rachel said. "Force of habit."

Rachel moved back over until she was right next to Santana, nearly on top of her. Santana reached out a hand and cupped the smaller brunette's cheek, rubbing a thumb tenderly against it. Rachel stared into her dark brown eyes, much darker than Rachel's own. Everything about her was darker than Rachel. Her hair, her skin, her eyes, her personality. It was such a distinction when compared to Quinn who was so pale and blonde and hazel-eyed. She wished so much that it was Quinn here beside her, about to give Rachel her first 'girl kiss'. I refuse to say girl-on-girl kiss like some kind of… Noah Puckerman, Rachel thought.

Rachel was drawn in by Santana. By her lips, by the hand on her cheek, by her eyes, until she was sharing the same breath with the Latina, an inch of space separating them. "You're sure about this, Berry?" she asked, the words, the breath ghosting over Rachel's own lips. Rachel was only able to hum back her reply.

After a split-second in which she thought Santana may have changed her mind, the Latina's lips were on hers. It was a soft touch, nothing more, a mere brushing of lips, until Rachel pushed further, harder. She needed to feel. To know. Santana's lips taste like imitation buttered popcorn and cherry chapstick and, beneath that, something specifically Santana. It was a pleasant combination. She was drawn into the other girl, drawn closer to her until their bodies were touching, pressed against one another.

A hand on Rachel's side creeping underneath her t-shirt caused the brunette to gasp, and Santana's tongue invaded her mouth. Not like Finn who would shove it in there the first chance he got. Not like Jesse who was so reluctant she sometimes thought he might be gay. If anything, she kissed like a female Noah, skillful from experience, but… softer, like Santana had said. Again, she wished that softness was Quinn's.

Moving, Santana kept their lips locked, tongues intertwining, and straddled Rachel's thighs. Rachel wanted to stop her, wanted to say something, but fuck! It felt so good. The Latina was slightly higher up than Rachel now, angling down, keeping their mouths pressed firmly together. Their lips continued to move back and forth over each other's in some unknown primitive contest of which there were no winners. Rachel let out an embarrassing moan that caused Santana to pull back and chuckle, looking down at the diva. "Damn, I'm good," she said, before diving back in.

Time was lost to them as they continued making out, Buffy paused in the background. Rachel knew it was probably stupid. Santana wanted Brittany, Rachel wanted Quinn, and they were just using each other as stand-ins for the two blonde cheerleaders. Santana was incredibly talented, though. As far as stand-ins went, she could have done far worse. And if the moans and whimpers Rachel couldn't stop herself from making were any indication, she had her answer. She was definitely attracted to women.

"Rachel, Santana, time for din-" Leroy was able to get out before he stopped, catching sight of them. The two girls threw themselves apart so hard that Santana actually fell off the bed. She shot up from the floor, now doubly embarrassed as Leroy stared at the two of them. Mouth open and eyes wide, he looked unable to form words. Thankfully that was rarely an issue with Rachel.

"Daddy!" Rachel nearly yelled in surprise. "It's not what it looks like! Santana and I were just… um… rehearsing for… a play? Yes! A play! At school. A school play. About two young women who are… uh-"

Which is how far Rachel was able to get before Leroy came back to his senses. "Rachel Barbra Berry!" His deep booming voice, always comforting unless its power was being used on her, was directed her way. "Whatever lie you're attempting to tell, stop it right now. I don't even want to hear it. Downstairs. Now."

"Right," Santana said. "Well, I should be going anyw-"

"You too, missy," Leroy said, glaring at her.

Santana seemed to shrivel up in a way Rachel had never seen her before, even in front of Coach Sylvester, as Leroy turned and left the girls there, marching downstairs to presumably tell Hiram. After a quiet couple of minutes of them just staring at each other, Santana asked, "So on a scale from one to fucked, how bad is this?"

Rachel just shook her head. "I don't know. This is new territory. I don't know if-"

"Now!" Leroy's voice called from the bottom of the stairs, startling Rachel and Santana both into motion. Rachel raced out the door and down the stairs with Santana quickly following behind her.

Once in the kitchen where Hiram and Leroy were both waiting, Leroy with arms crossed while Hiram was stirring a pot, Rachel started in, saying, "Please don't be mad at Santana, Daddy. She was only doing me a favor."

"Oh, is that what we're calling it now?" Leroy asked, glaring at Santana who cowered under his gaze.

"No, really," Rachel said. "I was… I just asked her to… I'm sorry, Daddy. Dad. I didn't… didn't mean to… " but she stopped, looking down at the floor, hair falling in front of her face.

It was Hiram who stepped forward, brushing the hair from her eyes and saying, "Rachel, sweetie, we're not mad. You don't have to apologize." Stepping up to her, Hiram put his arms on Rachel's arms, rubbing up and down in an effort to sooth her. "Sweetie? Deep breaths, baby. Deep breaths." Rachel breathed in, taking in a giant breath through her nose and releasing it through her mouth, once, twice, thrice, until she was feeling slightly calmer. "Better sweetie? Do you need to take a pill?"

"No," came the mumbled answer. Followed by, "I'm sorry. I don't… I didn't think about… you two being home when I… I'm sorry."

Leroy, who was looking worried for his daughter, stepped forward. "Baby girl. Don't apologize. It's okay." He moved closer to her and cupped her chin, lifting until her eyes were locked with his before he released it. "I'm sorry. I overreacted. I was just… surprised." Stepping back, he said, "Why don't we get some dinner and talk about this, okay?"

"O… okay," Rachel said.

In near silence, they loaded their plates at the counter and took seats at the table, Leroy and Hiram on either end of the table, Rachel and Santana sitting across from one another. They ate without saying a word, a rarity at the Berry household. Usually, dinner was a time to catch up on the events of the day. Rachel would talk about her day at school or at dance rehearsals or singing lessons. Leroy would talk about his job at the law firm where he was now a partner, or Hiram would share a funny story from his day trying to console a crying bride while planning her wedding. They would talk about books they were reading, movies they had seen, celebrity gossip. Tonight, though? Nothing.

After five quiet minutes, Santana was the first to break the silence. "So, uh… This lasagna is really good. Is it actually vegan? Because it tastes too, y'know, meaty."

"Yes, it's vegan," Hiram said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "The 'meat' taste comes from the eggplants and beets in it. They give it a thickness that makes it taste more like actual meat."

"Beets?" Santana asked. "You know, I don't think I've ever even had beets before. They're the round, red things that Mario threw at the bad guys in Super Mario Brothers 2, right?"

"Those were radishes, actually," Hiram said. When everyone just stared at him, Hiram blushed, adding, "My younger brother was really into video games. They're not my thing. Except for some I play on my phone when waiting for clients. Have you heard about this game, Words with Friends?"

"Yeah, actually," Santana said. "Me and Q… Quinn, I mean. We play it all the time. We'll have to start a game on-"

"What are your intentions for my daughter?" Leroy interrupted, putting his napkin down to glare at Santana.

"Daddy!"

"Intentions?" Rachel watched as Santana's shields automatically went up, something she'd been too surprised to do before. "I don't have any intentions towards her other than kind of being friends with her."

"Daddy, she wasn't-"

"And you straddling my daughter on her bed and making out with her while her parents are home?" Leroy asked. "Is that what 'being friends' is now?"

"Depends on the friend, I guess." Santana smirked as Leroy only got angrier.

"Daddy, it wasn't like that!"

Leroy stopped glaring at Santana long enough to shoot Rachel an exasperated look. "Then, please, Rachel. Tell me I didn't walk into your room and find one of your former bullies nearly pinning you down on your bed and taking advantage of you?"

"Taking advantage?" Santana asked, shocked, while Rachel nearly yelled, "She wasn't taking advantage of me! If anything, I was taking advantage of her."

Everyone stopped to look at Rachel. Clearly this was news to Santana as she looked as confused as Leroy and Hiram.

Rachel sighed. "I knew Santana felt bad for bullying me. And for the… everything else…"

She refused to tell her fathers about running. They wouldn't understand. They'd think it was just another form of Santana bullying her. They wouldn't get how peaceful it made her, how it let her work out all her frustration and anger and anxiety, how beneficial it was to push herself as hard as the other girls pushed her. No, all they'd see was the name-calling, the insults, the harassment. Rachel had never really understood how drill sergeants worked in those army movies Finn had made her sit through. Rachel thought she'd never be motivated by that kind of abuse. Actually doing it, though…? She got it. It wasn't about the words. It was about pushing her to not give up. To be strong. What was it Quinn had told her? Strong body, strong mind? It made sense.

After a moment in which she summoned up as much old-Rachel as she could muster, she continued. "I knew she felt bad about everything so I asked her to help me." She paused again, taking a sip of water before continuing, rushing the words out before she could worry about them. "I've been- not recently, mind you. Since high school started, I guess. Maybe longer. But… I've been having… feelings, you could say. Of a… sexual nature. About girls. Not girls girls. Women. Age-appropriate women. And some older women. Not older as in seniors, of course. And not seniors as in high school seniors. Though there have been some of them. I meant older as in older than I am. Which I guess that would cover high school seniors, too. Hmm…" She brushed a hand in the air as if to clear away the tangent. "So I asked Santana to help me find my place on the Kinsey scale in a more… practical… way than a simple online test would do. And I apologize if we got sidetracked, but she is a very good kisser." Rachel turned to Santana and added, "You should be very proud," before turning back to Leroy. "So while we were 'making out', it wasn't important, and it didn't mean anything, and you shouldn't be upset with Santana. If anything, she should be upset with me for emotionally manipulating her like that." Again, she turned to Santana. "I apologize, Santana."

"It's okay, Berry," Santana said, smirking. "It was fun. And, hell, if I'd known you could do all that with your mouth, high school would have played out very differently for me and you." Rachel blushed while Hiram and Leroy looked scandalized and uncomfortable.

Eventually Hiram cleared his throat and said, "Yes, well, be that as it may…" He turned to Rachel and asked, "So did you figure out anything from this… experiment?"

"Yes," Rachel said, again thinking of Quinn. While it was nice… very nice… kissing Santana, it was Quinn she'd been thinking of. Quinn she'd been wanting. Rachel had learned that it was definitely Quinn she'd been crushing on, sunken ships be damned. "I think I'm maybe a three, three point five, if we're going by that scale. I'm sorry."

"Rachel Barbra Berry," Leroy said. "Don't you ever apologize for something like that. You know we don't care who you love or who you're attracted to."

"Your Daddy's right," Hiram said. "All we care about is that you protect your heart, and that you find someone to love you as much as you love them. Nothing more. Why would you ever apologize for that?"

"Because of the stereotype," Rachel said. "Gay parents can't raise straight children. You know people are going to say it if I ever date a woman. It hurts the couples out there fighting for the right to have children or adopt children. It makes the two of you look bad. And it makes all those people out there spewing that hatred right in a way."

"No," Leroy said. "Just because you happen to like women doesn't make them right."

"But what if they are?" Rachel asked. "What if it is nurture rather than nature? What if I didn't have a choice in this?" She hung her head, feeling bad for even asking the question. For giving in to the hatred of others. There was just so much of it. She felt the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. She had let down her fathers yet again.

"Are you blaming us for this?" Hiram asked. It wasn't accusatory, merely curious.

Rachel's head popped up. "No! Of course not."

"And do you think it matters if you love a woman versus a man?" Hiram asked.

"No, but-"

"Then why would it matter if it was nurture or nature?" Hiram asked. "The truth is, we may never know what makes a person gay or straight or bisexual. If it was genetics rather than how you were raised? Well, sweetie, your daddy and I? We're both pretty gay. You were out of luck either way, sweetie, nature or nurture."

"So you're saying you expected me to be gay?"

"No, Ray," Leroy said. "We expected- and we still expect- you to love whoever you want to. Gay, straight, bi, trans… Those things don't matter to us as much as 'is he nice to you?' 'Does she respect you?' 'Do you love them?' Those are the important issues we care about, baby girl. Nothing else matters. Okay?"

Rachel sniffed as a tear fell. "…okay."

As one, Rachel's dads got up from the seats and went to where she sat. They wrapped her in a hug as she cried, and they all reassured each other that they loved one another and would always be there for one another. Tears at the dinner table were nothing new for the Berry family. Hiram and Leroy were used to the drama that was their daughter. What was new was the sniffling from across the table that was finally heard once the Berrys were all quieted down.

Rachel looked up to see Santana wiping her eyes on her napkin and looking away. "Santana?" she asked timidly. "Are you… are you okay?"

"Fine, Berry," Santana said gruffly.

Rachel pushed back her chair as her dads stepped back, and she went around the table to where Santana was sitting. Without another word, she wrapped her arms around the Latina much the way her dads had just done her while Hiram and Leroy looked on. After a few feeble attempts at shaking her off and threatening her away, Santana started crying in Rachel's arms.

"I'm just… I'm so scared of what… of what my parents are going to say when… when they find out," Santana said through shaky breaths. Rachel stood there, holding the Latina as she cried, worrying about her. She'd never seen Santana cry. A month ago, two months ago, she would have sworn that it was impossible. That she was as much an 'ice queen' as Quinn was. She'd seen Quinn cry, too, though. In that moment, Rachel realized that maybe she was just as much at fault for prejudging her bullies before getting to really know them as they were for doing the same to her. Maybe she was as much at fault for calling them 'bitches' as they were for calling her 'loser'.

After a while, Santana's tears were dried and she said, "At church, they preach against it, and my parents are all about church. Like, Q's but with less anger. I love mi familia. I really do. I don't know want this to be like Q's being knocked up, but I worry that it could be. Then I see you three being like this fucking afterschool special on acceptance, and I just… fuck. You know?"

"It's okay, Santana," Rachel said, releasing the girl. "I only met your mom recently, but she seemed nice. When she wasn't threatening your life." That got a chuckle from Santana and concerned looks from Hiram and Leroy. "And if that did ever happen, we have an extra bedroom here. You wouldn't be alone."

"Really? You'd do that for me?" Santana asked.

"What can I say?" Rachel said with a smile, remembering the words Santana had said to her earlier. "I'm one of you now. I takes care of my own."

The night had ended with a couple more episodes of Buffy while Santana and Rachel talked through the entire thing. Santana was funny when her insults were directed towards fictional characters rather than Rachel. And it seemed that Santana actually listened to her when the information was relevant and not presented a block at a time. She found herself talking with Santana rather than at Santana for the first time in nine years. It was a nice change.

The Latina had left after that, but only after more threats of physical violence if Rachel ever told anyone that they'd made out or that Santana had cried in front of her because apparently "Santana doesn't cry. Ever."

Compared to Tuesday, Wednesday had been rather uneventful. To compensate, though, Thursday seemed to be packed. First, they all went running again, stepping back up to a Seven Step. It had nearly killed her, but Brittany had told her she could do it, and she'd been right.

Afterwards, Rachel had another session with Dr. Richards in which they talked about her hand and how she felt about the possibility that she'd never be able to use it again. It was a lot like talking to Quinn except Dr. Richards tried to get her to face it and get to a better frame of mind about it while Quinn just got her to color and feel better emotionally. They both had their upsides.

Finally getting back home, Rachel was just finishing packing her bag for her second movie marathon-sleepover ever, this time at Quinn's house. They had decided, since Rachel had therapy in the afternoon, to spend more time together tomorrow so it was going to be a couple of movies tonight followed by a lot of sleep because the other three had Cheerios practice tomorrow. Then, after practice, they were going to come back to Quinn's and watch more movies until the others had to get ready for Puck's New Year's Eve party. First, though, she had to get through meeting Judy Fabray.

She was nervous about meeting Quinn's mom. From what she knew about the Fabray's, both from Quinn and from people around town, she knew to expect hatred and prejudice and pretty much everything else she had been subjected to all her life. Quinn said her mom wasn't like that anymore, not really, but it was hard to go against what she'd heard all her life. Russell and Judy Fabray helping lead anti-gay marriage rallies, protesting abortion clinics, being part of the Tea Party movement. They seemed to be against pretty much everything the Berry family stood for. In that way, it only made sense for Rachel and Quinn to hate each other. God, what was she thinking, having a crush on this girl?

Rachel was running her hands over her face and panicking slightly just as the doorbell rang. She listened as Hiram answered the door. She had no idea why she didn't just go downstairs. She was ready, her gym bag was packed, she should be going. Still, it was just like all those times where she'd made Finn wait downstairs with her fathers whenever they went out. This wasn't a date, though. It wasn't even remotely date-like. It was probably just going to be pizza at Quinn's house while watching movies. Simple.

There was a knock on Rachel's doorway that broke her from her reverie. Looking up, she saw Quinn standing there with a concerned look on her face. "I'm fine," Rachel said, striding to her bed to give Babs a quick couple of pats to the head and a scratch behind her ears before picking up her gym bag. "A little nervous about meeting your mom, maybe. Otherwise, I'm okay. More than okay. Looking forward to this evening and tomorrow, actually."

"Oh," Quinn said, face falling. "Uh…"

"What?"

"Well, not trying to up the nervousness factor," Quinn said, "but mom thought that it'd be nice if we all went out to eat somewhere, so she's taking us to Casa Lu Al." She paused, studying Rachel's face. "I mean, I can talk her out of it if you need. She just wanted to do something nice for all of us, and she was going on and on about not seeing me since I've been hanging out with you and dating Sam." Rachel was about to say… something, apologize for monopolizing her time, maybe, but Quinn preempted her. "No, you know what. It's cool. I didn't really want to go out to some fancy restaurant anyway."

Only then did Rachel notice what Quinn was wearing. She had on a black and white knee length striped dress with black tights and black ankle boots, a long grey coat, with a matching black scarf and black knit hat. Comparatively, Rachel had on jeans, sneakers, and a new hoodie that was part of the outfits Santana had bought her.

Rachel stood there looking at her for a minute. Quinn looked amazing. Perfect. Like she just stepped out of a catalogue. "Quinn, you look… wow," Rachel finally managed to say.

Quinn ducked her head, blushing furiously. "Thanks, Berry," she said with a smile. "I was going for 'wow'." Looking back up, though, she added, "But seriously, if you don't want to go out to dinner, if you don't feel up to it, we don't have to go. I'll tell mom that you're not feeling like it, call San and Britt and tell them plans have reverted back to original. We'll order pizza and watch movies. It'll be fine, really."

"You told Santana and Brittany already?" Rachel asked. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were in therapy," Quinn said. "I know that's the most important thing right now, and I didn't want to interrupt that. Mom just suggested it this afternoon, so I called Brittana while you were with Dr. Richards, then came over here when I knew you'd be home."

"Oh. Well, I don't want to be the reason we don't go out," Rachel said. "I can do it. It'll be fine." She beamed her megawatt stage smile at Quinn and nodded confidently. They both knew it was fake, but at least she was trying. Looking down again, though, it fell from her face as realization struck her. "I have to change!" Rachel said, rushing to her walk-in closet and flinging the doors open. "I'm meeting your mom for the first time, and I have nothing to wear! No! No, no, no!"

"Rach…?" Quinn cautioned out as she watched Rachel pulling clothes from her closet and throwing them into a pile on her bed. "Mom's not going to care, really. Just wear something kind of nice, and she'll be pleased."

"No, this is important, Quinn," Rachel said, flinging out piece after piece. "First impressions are everything. I've been to enough auditions to know. You didn't see how Ms. Hudson reacted the first time I went over to her house for dinner when Finn and I were dating. It was a travesty. I think I may have actually scared her. Scared her, Quinn! Me! Can you believe that?"

"Nope, can't believe that," Quinn muttered, snatching up Babs before the kitten could get hit by flying dresses and sweaters.

"I heard that, Fabray," Rachel said from inside her closet. Going back to her original point, she continued, "And then when I met Jesse's parents. Ugh! I don't think they even paid any attention to me. It wasn't like he was bringing home girls every day. Or so he said, anyway. He said that I was special, that I was one of the few girls he brought to meet his parents. And they ignored me. Me! Do you know how that feels? For someone's parents to barely even acknowledge your existence?"

"Do my own count?"

Rachel stopped, coming out of the closet with a dress in each hand hanging limply by her sides. "Quinn…" she started, then stopped. Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around Quinn's neck and pulled her in, hugging her tightly. She loved the feeling of Quinn's arms wrapping around her waist and holding her just as tightly. "I'm sorry," Rachel said. "I wasn't… I didn't think about what I was saying. I kind of do that sometimes."

"What?" Quinn asked sarcastically. "You? I am both shocked and chagrined."

Rachel pulled back slightly, smiling. "Stop. You're not funny."

"I'm a little funny."

"Nope. Not a bit."

"Admit it, or I'm not letting you go."

Rachel thought that idea sounded amazing, but she couldn't actually say that. Instead what came out was, "I'm pretty sure Sam wouldn't like that."

"Hey," Quinn said. "Rule number one of girl's night is no talking about boyfriends, either current or ex. Unless you need to complain, of course."

"I thought the first rule of girl's night is you don't talk about girl's night."

"Oh my God, Berry," Quinn exclaimed, holding her at arm's length to better look at her. "Have you actually seen Fight Club?"

"Unfortunately yes," Rachel said. "Sometimes when it's Daddy's turn to pick the movie for movie night, he makes Dad and I watch quote-unquote 'guy movies'. He says it's good for us, with all the musicals and romantic comedies we watch. I wasn't a fan, but the twist at the end was neat."

"Okay. Wow," Quinn said. "For a second there I was worried about you. You don't seem the Fight Club type. Thought maybe you had been spending too much time around Santana already." At this, Rachel ducked her head and blushed, turning away from Quinn. The make out session a couple of nights before was still fresh in her head. "And for the love of God, don't tell Santana you didn't like it. You're already 'on her list' for liking Twilight."

"What about you?" Rachel asked, going back into her closet. "Did you like it?"

"Of course," Quinn said. "Great storytelling, psychologically complex, funny, thrilling. What's not to love?"

"And all the hot, shirtless guys, right?" Rachel threw out. Maybe Quinn was just too much of a prude to be the first to say she liked to ogle the guys. "Brad Pitt at his finest."

"Yeah, right, of course," Quinn said. After a minute, she added, "Did you get lost in there or what?"

"No!" Rachel said. "I just… I don't like anything I have." When Quinn walked over she found Rachel sitting in the middle of her closet. Nearly everything was off its rack and on the floor where it had been quickly judged and discarded.

"Rachel," Quinn said, sitting down beside her. "It really doesn't matter what you wear. Mom's going to like you. And even if she doesn't, so what. Leroy's not exactly crazy about me. Doesn't mean I'm going to stop being your friend. Nothing between us is going to change no matter what mom says, okay? So just stop. Pick something you feel comfortable in. Churchy. Casa's isn't exactly first class. It's only slightly above Breadstix."

"Yeah, but what if I clash with her or something?" Rachel asked. "What she hates the color or the style or… or me? Quinn, I really don't want her to hate me."

"And she won't, Rach," Quinn said. "Really."

"But-"

"Okay, stop. Here's what we're going to do." Quinn stood from the closet floor and helped Rachel to her feet. "I'm going to pick something for you to wear, and you're going to wear it. And then you're going to stop worrying about what my mother thinks about it. If she doesn't like it, just tell her I picked it out. And if she doesn't like you? Well, she's a Fabray, so she'll smile politely to your face and you'll never know, okay?" Quinn dug through the pile of clothes while Rachel watched and pulled out a long sleeve red dress and handed it to her. "Here, put this on with some white tights while I pick out some shoes." With a chuckle, she added, "I'll stay here in the closet so you won't have to worry about me peaking."

"You don't have to do that," Rachel said. Quinn raised a questioning eyebrow and stared at her in disbelief. "No, no, I just meant I always change in the bathroom."

"Always?" Quinn asked. "Isn't that inconvenient?"

"Yes, but it's better than someone peeping in at me," Rachel said. "I've done it since… you know."

"I know what?"

"Since the picture," Rachel said, staring at the confused expression on Quinn's face. "Freshman year? The picture in my locker? The one of me in a… a compromising position? 'Never threaten a Cheerio'? Nothing?"

"Sorry, Rachel," Quinn said shaking her head. "No idea what you're talking about."

"So you're saying you never saw the picture of me that one of the Cheerios took?"

"No," Quinn said. "And I'm the captain. If there was a picture going around, either I or Santana would have known about it. Unless it was done while Melissa was still at McKinley."

"No," Rachel said. "It was in the spring. It was after she was gone and you were head cheerleader."

"Then it was only one or two people that did it or knew about it," Quinn said. "I promise you, if it was a Cheerio, it never made the rounds. They're… We're… bitches, but I would have put a stop to that immediately. Even back then. No one deserves that."

"So… so the Cheerios really never saw it?" Rachel asked, arms wrapping around herself with the dress still in hand. "Never passed it around, laughing at me?"

"Never," Quinn said. She stepped closer and put her hands on her shoulders, the touch comforting Rachel. "And since most of the Cheerios were juniors and seniors that year, whoever did take it is probably gone. So even if they hadn't deleted it already- which I'm sure they have by now- then they still wouldn't be showing it to anyone else at school. So nothing to worry about, okay?"

"Thank you," Rachel said, throwing her arms around Quinn's waist and burying herself in the comfort that the cheerleader provided. That was something she'd worried about for years. It had made her feel crazy, unsafe in her own bedroom. A place that was supposed to be her solace had been ripped from her with that one picture. And while this confession didn't exactly make Rachel want to start stripping in front of the windows, she did feel slightly better at least.

After a minute, Rachel pulled away, wiping her thankfully dry eyes and saying, "I'm still going to go change in the bathroom, though." She went to her bureau and pulled out a pair of white leggings like Quinn had suggested while the blonde went through her closet's shoe rack.

In the bathroom, Rachel pulled off her shoes, followed by her jeans sweater and t-shirt. She stood there in her bra, panties, and socks, staring at the reflection in the mirror. A glance towards the door showed her yet again that she couldn't be seen from where she was standing. The Cheerios hadn't seen the picture of her masturbating. Not all of them, anyway. More importantly, Quinn hadn't seen it. Her fifteen-year-old breasts, tiny as they were, heaving. Her hand in her panties, eyes closed, head thrown back. Thinking about Quinn.

Now that Rachel knew Quinn hadn't seen it, she kind of, almost wished she had. It was a stupid thought. Quinn wouldn't want to see Rachel half-naked, pleasuring herself, no matter how much the opposite might be true. Quinn had a boyfriend. Rachel was just a friend. Nothing more. That was all they could be.

Once Rachel was in the outfit Quinn had picked out for her, makeup expertly applied (again thanks to Quinn), the cheerleader grabbed her hand with one hand, intertwining their fingers, while shouldering Rachel's gym bag with the other.

"You don't have to do that, Quinn," Rachel said, enjoying the feel of the other girl's hand in hers. Again, she noticed how perfectly they fit together in a way that hers and Finn's never seemed to.

"Nonsense," Quinn said simply before Rachel was pulled towards the door and down the steps.

In the kitchen, they ran into Hiram. Quinn immediately pulled her hand away from Rachel's as soon as they saw him. Hiram ran Quinn and Rachel both through Rachel's medication schedule and some basic rules that Quinn assured him wouldn't be broken as her mother was going to be there the entire time.

Saying their goodbyes, the two girls made their way to Quinn's car where Quinn opened the door for Rachel, helping her in before slamming it shut. Once they were both inside, Quinn turned to Rachel and said, "Seriously, Rachel. If you don't want to do this, now's the time to say something. If you think you'll be uncomfortable or if you're nervous, we can just go straight to my house. No one will think any less of you."

"No, it's okay, really," Rachel assured her. "I don't want your mom to be mad at me for changing our plans. I messed up with Finn's mom and Jesse's parents. I'd hate to mess up with your mom, too. I'd start to think that parents don't like me." She followed with a nervous chuckle that had Quinn looking over at her curiously.

"Do you realize you keep doing that?" Quinn asked, smiling as they pulled out of Rachel's driveway.

"Doing what?" Quinn only shook her head and laughed as Rachel stared at her. "Tell me. What do I keep doing?"

"It's nothing," Quinn said, a teasing smile turning up her lips. "It's just… you keep comparing meeting my mom to meeting your boyfriends' parents."