Author's Note: No notes, really. Just a quick thanks for reading, following, favoriting, and/or reviewing. To know that people actually like this story still mystifies me, but I'll take it. Feel free to leave a review if you're interested. They make doing this feel worth it.

The drive to the restaurant was relatively quiet as it grew darker all around them. Rachel played with the radio, looking for something, what she had no idea. In the past it would have been something fun to sing, the doing of which would have calmed her nerves in meeting Quinn's mom. That wasn't really an option anymore. She didn't know when she'd sing again. She just knew that the joy and comfort it had brought her in the past was no longer there. So they rode on in silence, verbally at least, with just the sound of Rachel's constant changing of the radio stations.

The truth of it was, Rachel was still embarrassed for what she'd said. She'd stumbled through an apology to Quinn who'd said it was no big deal, but it was to Rachel. It was just that Rachel had the same level of nerves meeting Judy Fabray as she had with Ms. Hudson or Mr. and Mrs. St. James. More possibly, because she knew the previous ones hadn't hated her going into the meeting. Then again, maybe she was projecting everything Quinn had said about her father onto her mother. Quinn hadn't said anything bad about her mother, not really. Just that she numbly went along with whatever her father wanted. Still, Rachel was worried. So she'd said what she'd said out of nerves, and now it was even worse.

She was so afraid of scaring off Quinn, and by association Brittany and Santana. Rachel didn't have any friends. Now that she'd seemingly acquired a few, the most popular girls in school no less, she had to do everything she could to keep them. That included hiding whatever feelings she might have towards the straight-laced, prudish, Celibacy Club president Quinn Fabray. She didn't think Quinn could handle a girl having a crush on her without distancing herself away from said girl. Thankfully Quinn seemed to think it was just Rachel being nervous, and so long as neither of them mentioned it again, Rachel would be happy.

At one point, Quinn's cell phone went off, alerting them that she had a text message. Quinn reached blindly for her purse in the backseat, pulling it into her lap and removing her phone. She slid the unlock button and started going through the phone until Rachel reached over and snatched it from her hand.

"Hey!"

"Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?" Rachel yelled. "You could have run a red light or a stop sign or rear-ended someone!"

"Rachel, it's no big deal," Quinn said. "Lots of people text and drive. It's fine."

"No, it's not." Rachel said. "We could have gotten in a wreck and gotten hurt or… or worse. Do you know how many teenagers get in wrecks every year from texting and driving? Nearly 3000 people died last year from texting and driving while another 400,000 were injured. That doesn't even include the financial cost for those wrecks plus the ones where no one was hurt. Nearly one fourth of all motor vehicle related deaths for fifteen to nineteen year olds are related to texting while driving. So, yes, it actually is a big deal."

"How do you even know all that?"

"I…" Rachel paused, losing her liveliness and growing depressed from the sudden memory. "The last couple of months, before… everything… I was looking up facts on… um… teen deaths."

"Oh." Quinn hesitated, then said. "I'm sorry. For trying to check my phone. And for every-"

"Don't," Rachel said softly. "Please."

Quinn was quiet for a minute, stealing glances at her. With a sudden half-smile, she said, "Well, hey, there's one good thing about it. At least you care more about your life now."

"I don't care about mine, I care about yours," Rachel said before she could stop herself. Seeing the smile drop from Quinn's face, Rachel ducked her head, adding, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, it was honest," Quinn said, staring straight ahead. "We tell the truth, remember?" Rachel was trying to figure out what to say when her thoughts were interrupted by another text message for Quinn. "Hey, since I can't check my phone, will you at least check the texts and see who it is?"

"Sure," Rachel said, unlocking the phone and going to Quinn's text messages. Reading aloud, Rachel said, "Santana says 'Move your, um… normal-sized butt because I'm about to eat this, uh… f-word-ing table. Can't believe they don't have any f-word-ing breadsticks in this… um… female dog.'"

"Normal-sized butt?" Quinn asked, laughing. "F-word-ing? Female dog?"

"Vulgarity is the mark of a poor vocabulary and a weak mind," Rachel said. "I prefer not to use it."

"Unless you're drunk," Quinn said. Again Rachel grew quiet, wrapping her arms around herself, remembering that night again. Quinn coming over, finding Rachel already drunk. She remembered yelling at Quinn about how perfect her life was compared to Rachel's. She'd hated her in that moment. "I'm sorry," Quinn said, pulling Rachel back to the present. "That wasn't funny. I'm just… you seem nervous and I was trying to make a joke, but that wasn't… Sorry."

"It's okay," Rachel said, staring out the window into the gloom. Up ahead, she could see the restaurant.

Realizing she still had Quinn's phone in her hand, Rachel unlocked it again and exited out of Santana's message. The other one was from… Rachel laughed out loud, causing Quinn to look over alarmed. Glancing between Quinn and the phone, Rachel said between giggles, "The other text is from… Sammie-Poo."

"Ugh, just kill me now," Quinn said, slamming her head back into the headrest while they were stopped at a red light. "I have got to keep my phone away from Santana. What did he say?"

"Almost nothing legible," Rachel said. "For the record, I hate text speak."

"Agreed."

"If I'm reading this right, though, he says 'Have fun tonight with your mom and the rest of the UT. Pick you up tomorrow at eight'." Rachel looked at the screen in thought for a moment. "UT? Unholy Trinity?"

"Uh… yeah," Quinn said hesitantly, parking the car in the restaurant's parking lot. "You ready to go in?"

"Well that's kind of rude," Rachel said, still staring curiously at Quinn's phone. "To not mention me. Not that he has to, of course. But with all of us hanging out together tonight and tomorrow, you'd think he'd say something like 'the UT and Rachel' maybe. Unless I'm part of the Unholy Trinity now, in which case we really do need a new name. I still don't like 'the Unholy Square', but it does have the initials U-S which spells 'us' so that's kind of convenient. Like, 'we're us'."

"I'm sure he was talking about you, too, Rach," Quinn said, taking her phone back from Rachel's grasp. Though there was something about the way that Quinn wouldn't meet her eyes when she said that…

"Quinn," Rachel said slowly. "Did you… you did tell Sam that I was going to be here tonight… didn't you?"

Quinn made a dismissive noise and said, "I'm sure I probably said something to him." Quinn opened her door and got out into the late December night, but Rachel had no plans on getting out until this was resolved. When Quinn got around to Rachel's side of the car, she found the brunette sitting there with arms crossed and a determined look on her face, staring straight forward. "Oh, come on, Rachel. You're not really mad are you? Stop acting like you're five and get out of the car. It's cold out here."

Rachel gasped. "Acting-" Rachel started, staring wide-eyed at Quinn. She knew it was probably unimportant, the fact that Quinn hadn't mentioned her to Sam. Still, she couldn't help but flash back to all the times Finn had told her she was hurting his reputation, or that they couldn't be together because he needed to find his 'inner rock star'. Like she wasn't good enough. Like she wasn't worth it. And now with Quinn, acting like Rachel wasn't even worth mentioning. Or worse, that she was embarrassed of being out with Rachel. Of being friends with her. "I'm not acting like anything but the friend that you're clearly ashamed to tell your boyfriend that you're hanging out with. What? Am I not worth telling 'Sammie-Poo'?"

"That's just… You really think I'm ashamed of you?" Quinn asked incredulously.

"Well, what else am I supposed to think?" Rachel asked, suddenly angry, starting loud and getting louder. "Clearly you don't have a problem telling Sam that you're hanging out with your mom or Santana and Brittany. I'm the one you're leaving out. So yes, it seems like you're ashamed of me!"

"Well you're insane, then!"

Rachel gasped again, looking up at her, eyes starting to glaze with unshed tears. No. How could she? After Rachel had told her in the hospital about her fears, her worries that she might actually be… "I don't- I can't even believe you just- Fine!" Rachel angrily undid her seatbelt and got out of the car, slamming her door on the way out.

"Fuck!" Quinn growled out. "I'm sorry, Rachel. I shouldn't have-"

"No!" Rachel held up a shaking hand to stop her. "Just don't! First, I can't believe you would actually say that to me. To me! After our talk in the hospital. After I confided in you. I just… Ugh! And two? You want to hang out with just 'your mom and the rest of the UT' so bad," she said, making big air quotes around Sam's words, "then that's what you can do. You won't have to lie to your precious Sammie-Poo if I'm not here!"

"Rachel, just… wait, damn it!" Quinn yelled, following Rachel who was already walking away from the restaurant and towards the road. What her plan was beyond 'get away from Quinn' Rachel had no idea, but that's all she could think of at the moment. "I don't want to just hang out with them. I want to hang out with you."

"It sure doesn't seem that way."

"Are you… I mean, are you serious?" Quinn asked. "Because it was someone else that I spent an hour and a half with picking out a nice outfit and doing their makeup for them? No, wait, that was you. Not Santana, not Brittany, not even my mom. You."

"Still, it's funny how those people you just mentioned got told to Sammie-Poo and not me," Rachel said. "Is there something wrong with me? Is that it? I mean, that has to be it, right? Because I can't think of another reason that you wouldn't tell him that we're hanging out. You told him about Santana and Brittany. Why not me? What? Too ashamed to tell precious Sammie-Poo that you're hanging out with the loser yet again? Afraid it'll make you look bad? Well I'm so sorry to ruin your reputation, Quinn!"

"Rachel, it's not like that!"

"Then what is it like?" Rachel yelled, still walking angrily forward. She'd never realized how hard it was to storm out without doors and with someone following her. Still, she refused to give Quinn the courtesy of looking at her. If the girl was going to follow her, Rachel couldn't stop her, but she didn't have to be nice about it. "Why tell him about Santana and Brittany but not me?"

"Because Sam's not jealous of Santana and Brittany!"

That stopped Rachel in her tracks. She couldn't have heard right. That was just… insane. Maybe she really was. She turned to face Quinn who was staring at the ground a couple of yards away and stuttered out a, "W-what?"

"I told Sam. You know, about how much we've been hanging out over the past week or so, pretty much every day, and he got jealous," Quinn said. She sighed, shaking her head and looked up at Rachel. "He has this stupid idea that… I don't know. That you have some kind of stupid hero-worship crush on me or something, and that I'm only hanging around you because I like the attention. It's stupid. Sam's an idiot."

Rachel looked around the parking lot. Quinn's phone went off again with another text message, probably from Santana. Finally, Rachel turned back to the blonde. "Do I act like that? Like I have a crush on you?"

"What? No."

"Well something you told him must have made him think that," Rachel said. "He wouldn't just pull it out of nowhere, right?"

"I guess," Quinn said. She stood there, being buffeted by the wind. "I may have told him how you said that I kind of make everything better."

"You told him that?"

"He's my boyfriend, Rachel," Quinn said as she approached the brunette. "He asked me to be honest with him the same as you. So I told him about spending time with you, being your friend, trying to help you get better. And yes, I told him that you said it's better when I'm around. I was… I don't know. Proud of that."

"I just can't believe you told him."

"Why? You didn't seem to care when I told you I told my mom. You said the same to your dads there in front of me at your house. Even Santana and Brittany know. So why Sam? What have you got against him?"

"That's just… it's not… I don't care about Sammie-Poo!" Rachel shouted.

"Stop calling him that!" Quinn shouted back. "And if you don't care that I told him, what are you so pissed off about?"

"Nothing!" Rachel yelled, tears now streaming down her face. Quieter, she added, "Just… nothing."

Rachel turned to walk away but Quinn reached out and grabbed her coat, spinning her back to face her. "No!" Quinn said loudly. "We're honest, remember? That's what we do. So tell me. Why are you so angry about this? Is it Sam specifically?" Quinn paused for an answer that wasn't coming. "Is there something wrong with him?" Another pause. "Did he do or say something to you?" Another pause. She grew louder with each question until Quinn was full out yelling at a crying Rachel in the restaurant's parking lot as customers walked by. "God! What is it, Rachel? If it's not Sam, then what? I mean, seriously. If you don't care about him knowing, then what do you care about?"

"You!" Rachel screamed. Both girls went wide-eyed at the admission. Rachel because she couldn't believe she'd actually said it, Quinn because she probably couldn't believe Rachel would think she might be gay. All the blood rushed out of Rachel's face and she suddenly felt lightheaded. This was a nightmare. It had to be, right? She hadn't actually said that, had she? Oh, God! OhGodohGodohGodohGodohGod! It was all over. Everything. Oh God!

"I… what?"

"Just forget it, okay," Rachel said quietly, causing Quinn to step forward enough to hear. "Please?"

"No," Quinn said, matching the softness of her volume. The noises of the parking lot sounded so loud in the absence of their yelling. "Tell me."

"I think…" Rachel was shaking from nerves, tears streaming down her face. "I think I have a… Oh, God!" Rachel exclaimed, bursting into sobs and wrapping her arms around herself. Immediately Quinn was in front of her, wrapping Rachel in her arms. Between sobs, she managed to get out, "I've messed everything up! You're going to… to leave me, and you're going to take Santana and… and Brittany with you, and I'll be a-alone again, and I… I can't do this alone. I can't!" And she couldn't get any more out she was crying so hard.

"Rachel…" Quinn said, and through her own sobs she could hear the agony in Quinn's voice. "I'm never going to leave you, okay? Never. Whatever it is, it's okay. It's going to be okay. I promise."

"You can't… you can't… promise that…" Rachel forced out.

Quinn shushed her, backing them up until they were resting against the hood of someone's car. Rachel just wanted to stay there forever in that moment, being held by Quinn, being comforted by her. That's all she wanted. Because she knew the next few would be worse, much worse. That it would end everything.

Eventually her sobs subsided, though, and Rachel was just standing there in Quinn's arms, leaning against her and being supported by her. Too soon, Quinn pulled back, bringing her hands up to Rachel's face and wiping the tear tracks away with the pads of her thumbs. Rachel couldn't stand to look at her, and focused solely on Quinn's ever-present silver cross that gleamed against the black background of Quinn's dress.

Rachel reached up between them and touched the necklace delicately, feeling the coolness of the metal, the texture of it. "I've always loved this," she said quietly. "Where did you get it?"

"It was a present from my grandmother," Quinn said, letting her hands fall from Rachel's face to land on the brunette's hips. "She gave it to me for my confirmation when I was thirteen. It was the same year she died. She moved to Florida with my grandfather before I was born so I never really saw them much, but whenever I did, she was the nicest person I'd ever met. When they flew up for my confirmation, it was the last time I saw her. The last thing she ever said to me was how proud she was of me." They were quiet for a minute before Quinn said, "Quid pro quo, Rach. Now tell me what you have to say."

"I…" Rachel started, biting her lip nervously. "Just promise not to hate me, okay?"

"I promise," Quinn said. "I've never hated you. I'm not going to start now."

Rachel broke away from Quinn's embrace and turned, looking over at the restaurant. At the entrance, Brittany, Santana, and Judy Fabray were standing there staring at them. Rachel knew she'd made them late, but right now it didn't seem to matter. Nothing seemed to matter but her and Quinn.

"I…" Rachel said, trying again to start. "I kind of have… I mean, there are… I have… um…" She bit her lip again, unable to say the words. For someone as generally talkative as Rachel, it was a new experience to have something to say and be unable to force the words out. Usually it was the other way around, being unable to keep the words in. Now…

"Rachel," Quinn said, reaching out and placing a hand on her forearm. "Please just tell me."

Rachel took a deep breath and closed her eyes, unable to even look at Quinn. "Sam was right."

There was nothing that followed but silence, causing Rachel to open her eyes and see a confused looking Quinn. "Sam was right?" she asked, echoing Rachel's words. Something seemed to light up in her eyes as she had the audacity to break into a smile, even chuckling a little. "Oh! You mean he was right about you having like a hero-worship thing going on. Like a girl-crush. Rachel, that's perfectly normal. I mean, I did save your life, after all. And I'm the head Cheerio at school, and you've always said you're attracted to talent and stardom so, no, Rachel, it's not a big-

"No," Rachel said, cutting her off. Why did she have to talk? Quinn was giving her an out and everything, and she just couldn't keep from explaining, making sure that Quinn understood. "It's not a 'girl-crush'. It's an actual crush. I like you, Quinn."

Quinn laughed again. "You mean like you had a crush on Mr. Schue last year, right? Like a school-girl crush. Rachel, that's still not that big a-"

"No!" Rachel said louder, knocking Quinn's hand from her arm. Quinn looked around to see who might be watching, but Rachel barely paid any attention to it. "And stop laughing at me! I don't mean a stupid little school-girl crush. I mean an actual 'I want to take you on dates and kiss you and take you to prom because I want to be with you' crush. An 'I cherish every hug and touch and laugh and smile that you give me' crush. An 'I die a little every time you mention Sam' crush. That kind of crush."

As Rachel talked, the smile fell from Quinn's face until she was just standing there staring blankly at Rachel. "…oh," she managed to say.

"Yeah," Rachel said miserably. After another silent minute in which Rachel was contemplating all the poor decisions that brought her to this point, she said, "I'm sorry."

This seemed to snap Quinn out of whatever she was going through. "Hey, don't apologize," she said, going to hug Rachel again. She squeezed her tightly for a second before letting her go. "I'm… flattered. Really. I mean, I'm not gay, but if I was… y'know? So, yeah."

Rachel wanted to cry again just hearing Quinn say the words 'I'm not gay', but she couldn't. She couldn't be upset about that. She wouldn't be. She hadn't expected anything from Quinn in the slightest. This confirmation of her assumptions disappointed her, but they weren't exactly unexpected. Quinn was a Catholic, Celibacy Club cheerleader dating a football player. Rachel had to be insane to even think that she had a shot with Quinn.

"So you don't hate me? You're not going to… to run off or anything?" Rachel asked hopefully.

"Rach, my best friends are Brittany and Santana," Quinn said, smiling sincerely at her. "If I had a problem with… that… do you really think I'd still be with them?" Rachel shook her head, hope causing her to smile slightly. "Face it, Berry. You're stuck with me. I know Brittany is your BFF and all, but if I'm not a close second, we're going to have issues." The last part Quinn was said with such mock seriousness it got Rachel to laugh slightly.

"You are," Rachel said, moving forward to hug Quinn again. The friendly hugs weren't what she wanted, but she'd take what she could get until she got over this crush. That's all she could do.

After a minute, Quinn pulled back and said, "So, ready to go in and get something to eat."

Rachel looked back to where Santana, Brittany, and Judy Fabray were still watching them. "I guess…"

As they walked arm in arm towards the door of the restaurant, Quinn turned to Rachel and smiled, saying, "I bet after all that, meeting my mom isn't so stressful, huh?"

"No, I think it's worse now," Rachel said. "The suicidal girl lusting after her daughter. What do you even say to that?"

Quinn pulled Rachel to a stop out of earshot of the rest of the group and quietly said, "Actually, if we could not tell her that part, that would be great. I mean, she's just now meeting you for the first time. Best not to have things be too complicated, right?"

"Okay," Rachel said, nodding. They started toward the restaurant again. When Rachel looked over at Quinn, the blonde was smiling. "What?"

"Lusting?" Quinn asked with a smirk that Santana would be proud of.

"Shut up," Rachel said, smiling back.

Santana and Brittany had arrived at the restaurant at 6:39 because Santana was notoriously late everywhere she went. If it wasn't for Quinn constantly riding her ass in Cheerios (wanky), she knew she'd probably be late for practice every day, too. And it wasn't like it was her fault every time. There was always something. Traffic, parents, Brittany. Brittany was her favorite excuse. It wasn't her fault that Brittany's mouth was extremely talented. In fact, it was Brittany's extremely talented mouth that was today's cause of how late they were. Their make out session had gone a little far, and Santana had lost track of the time… and her panties. Twice.

Rushing into the restaurant, she knew they'd' be the last to get there. So surprise, surprise when they found Judy Fabray all by her lonesome in the waiting area.

"Hey, Ms. F.," Brittany said, giving her a hug as they came in. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is Brittany in a fucking nutshell, Santana thought as she watched them. Barely had a conversation with ol' Judes in the last year or so, still greets the woman by hugging. Santana smiled what she would always deny was a dopey grin looking at Brittany that thankfully went by unnoticed. "Are Q and Rach not here yet?" Brittany asked once she'd released her and had a chance to look around.

"No, dear," Judy said, taken aback by the hug and trying to straighten her perfectly straight dress. Santana narrowed her eyes at the woman as Judy smiled at Brittany in the way that most adults did until they knew her. Like she was 'special'. Same way most everyone else on the Cheerios looked at Becky Jackson. No doubt everyone loved Brittany, but the fucking way they looked at her drove Santana crazy sometimes. Like she was a fucking pet or something. Cute, sweet, but not really important. Turning to Santana, Judy added, "Quinn texted and said they'd be running a little behind. Something about picking out an outfit for Rachel."

"Lovely," Santana said, forced smile of politeness on her face. She'd already been told off once last week by her mom for yelling at an adult. She didn't want to test her chances with a repeat offense. Besides, it wasn't just the fucking Fabrays that could do that fake nicety bullshit. Her parents had raised her right even if she generally hated it. "Shall we get a table then? I'm sure they'll be able to find us once they get here."

"That sounds like a splendid idea, dear," Judy said.

As Judy led the way to the hostess to get a table, Brittany's hand slipped around Santana's bicep, causing her to stop and look over at the blonde. "San, your face is doing the 'forced to be happy but unhappy' thing. It's okay. Ms. F. just doesn't know me like tu mami does. We always hang at mine and yours, and we're never at Q's, so she doesn't know yet. So don't be mad at her. She'll get there."

Santana sighed because… fuck, y'know? Brittany was always able to read her like a book. Well, everybody really, but especially her. Brittany was her kryptonite. "I know, Britts," Santana said. "I'm just… you know."

"Yeah, totes," Brittany said, flashing one of her knees-weakening, panty-dropping smiles at Santana. So, yeah, okay, every one of her smiles were like that. Whatever.

"Okay," Judy said, returning to them. "They have a table for us, so we're going to follow this nice young lady here." She motioned to the waitress in front of them. Brittany and Santana fell in, following Judy who followed the waitress to a round table in the far corner. There was a small oil lamp in the center of the table that gave off a soft glow. Judy sat down with her back to the wall in the corner. Santana sat next to her with Brittany next to her. This would allow Quinn to sit beside her mom and Rachel to sit between Quinn and Brittany, her moral support. Because, really, they all knew what this was.

This was a test for Judy. To see if she had come along as far as Quinn had hoped, to see if she could get along with Rachel, to see how much of Russell Fabray's influence was still held over ol' Judes. And Rachel was that test. Because if anyone could test a Fabray, it was Rachel fucking Berry. The first two and a half years of high school had proved that. That's how Santana saw this whole 'sleepover' thing anyway, even if no one else did. Especially Quinn who had gotten severely pissed off when Santana put it that way. What-the fuck-ever, though. She could call it what she wanted, but that's what Quinn was doing.

They made small talk for fifteen minutes during which time Santana learned that this place didn't have breadsticks but did have some pretty decent French rolls. Most of the questions were directed at Santana which she did her best to answer while Brittany kept piping up. Eventually Judy did start asking Brittany questions, and Santana could tell with each answer that Judy was falling a little more and more in love with Brittany. Yep. Fifteen minutes. That's about how long it took.

"So you're designing the choreography for Regionals, then?" Judy asked.

"Oh, yeah. It's going to be awesome!" Brittany said. "We've got this Katy Perry song, and some of the guys are doing BMX tricks in the background. Oh! And there are fireworks on our boobs!"

"That's… interesting," Judy said, laughing and taking another sip of her water.

"Yeah, totally," Brittany said. "I wanted to do something more traditional with, like, just the Cheerios and stuff, but Coach Sue said to get really wild and creative, so I just kind of went nuts with it." Brittany reached out and grabbed her drink, taking a large gulp of it.

"Easy, Britts," Santana said, placing a hand over the one of Brittany's that held the glass. "You know how you get with too much Dr. Pepper. We've got practice tomorrow."

"I know," Brittany said. "I just get excited talking about Cheerios. Oh! We're taking Rachel to practice with us tomorrow, right?"

"I… what?"

"Rachel," Brittany said. "To Cheerios practice. 'Cause we're coming back to Q's tomorrow after practice anyways, right? So we can just take her to practice with us. She can go run with us while we run, then she can watch our practice and see how awesome our routine is!"

"Britts, remember when we talked about her coming to the party tomorrow night?" Santana asked, to which Brittany nodded. "And we said she might not have fun because of all the Cheerios and jocks that were going to be there?" Brittany nodded again. "Same thing."

"Yeah, but… if they don't get a chance to know her then they're never going to like her," Brittany said. "And she's my BFF, San. They have to like her. And, like, you and Q aren't going to always be there to protect her, so they have to get to like her like they got to like me. That way, they won't want to pick on her anymore like they don't want to pick on me anymore."

"I don't know, Britts," Santana said reluctantly. When Brittany started doing her sad-eyes-pouty-lip thing, Santana caved and said, "Look, we'll run it by Caps, okay? If she says it's cool, then fine. Otherwise, no."

"Okay!" Brittany said, automatically cheering up. Santana knew she constantly got played by the blonde, but she couldn't seem to care. She'd do it every day. Turning back to Judy, Brittany said, "I'm so excited! Rachel's going to… going… to…" She trailed off, though, and Santana, who had been taking a sip of her Sprite, looked over to Brittany whose eyes were on something outside. "Is that-?"

Brittany got up without another word and walked quickly away from the table towards the entrance of the restaurant. Santana followed immediately while Judy brought up the rear, stopping to say something to the hostess about an emergency and that they'd be right back.

Santana nearly ran into Brittany outside the doors. The blonde was watching Rachel and Quinn yelling at each other. The actual words being used didn't seem to carry all the way to them, but the tones did.

Whatever it was, it was heated, and angrier than Santana had heard Quinn be with Rachel since the girl's suicide attempt. Generally little miss ice-cold kept her shit together. Hell, that was part of why Quinn was so fucking scary. That fucking serial killer Ice Quinn look. Santana hadn't heard Quinn this loud since the beginning of the year and their fight in the hallway. And while this new Rachel was way quicker to anger than was good for her, Santana generally hadn't seen it directed at Quinn. Not since they went running that first time. Shit. Well, this could only end well.

Looking over at Brittany, Santana saw the same blank look that she always got when people fought around her. Wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer, Santana said, "Hey, hey, pretty girl. Don't worry. Whatever it is, I'm sure it's nothing big."

"No," Brittany said quietly, shaking her head. "It's big."

By the time Judy made her way out, Rachel was crying in Quinn's arms. Thankfully she didn't ask any questions that Santana couldn't have answered anyway. It was a few minutes later before Rachel and Quinn actually made their way over to the restaurant, arm in arm and forcing normalcy. Even if Santana hadn't seen it, one look at Rachel's face would have told her it was another breakdown. Except this time, it was one that Quinn had caused.

"Hey, everybody," Quinn said as they got within speaking distance. "Sorry we're late. We just had a, umm…"

"Disagreement," Rachel threw in. God, could this girl sound any more like she'd just been crying. Nose runny, sinuses stuffy, eyes red-rimmed. "We were talking about… um… most influential… singers. And I said Barbra Streisand, of course."

"And I said The Beatles," Quinn offered.

"Right, right," Rachel said, nodding. "And I said that The Beatles didn't count because… because… they were…

"A band."

"Right. They were a band and not actually singers, and then Quinn said that they were much better singers than Barbra Streisand, and then I… well. You know how I get over Barbra. Santana and Brittany can tell you, Ms. Fabray. It isn't pretty. And it just escalated from there. I'm sorry if we kept you waiting long."

"It's… it's quite alright, dear," Judy said, looking skeptical but letting it drop. Fuck that.

"Uh-huh, sure," Santana said, letting everyone know with her tone that she was thinking the same thing everyone was: that that was the biggest crock of shit she'd ever heard. "Barbra Streisand. No, yeah, I get it." Turning to Quinn, Santana asked, "Are you okay, Cap?"

"We're fine," Quinn replied, voice icy and glaring at her. Well, fuck her. She can glare all she wants.

"And Berry?" Santana asked, turning to face her. "You're okay, too?"

"I said we're fine," Quinn said.

"Right. I heard you," Santana said. "Which is precisely why I'm asking the other girl that was just getting screamed at if she's okay, too, bitch. The girl that looks like she was just sobbing her fucking eyes out. So you might want to back off a step, Cap."

Quinn started to move forward to get in Santana's face, but Rachel's hand on her arm stopped her. "Quinn, don't. Please." Quinn stopped but still glared at Santana. "Santana, I'm fine, really. It was just a… misunderstanding. I thought something, but I was… I was just wrong, I guess. Stupid. It's not important." Santana watched as Quinn looked down, pained at Rachel's words. What the fuck was going on?

After a moment of tense silence, Judy said, "Well, girls, I don't know about you, but I'm starving. How about we get in here and order something. My treat. Appetizers, deserts… whatever you feel like."

"Thank you, Ms. Fabray," Rachel said. "That's thoughtful. I'm just going to run to the restroom to freshen up."

"I'll go with," Santana said.

"You really don't need to do that," Rachel said, releasing Quinn's arm and going with the rest of the group into the restaurant.

"Then you're lucky I have to pee, Smurfette," Santana said.

Before anyone could object, she grabbed Rachel by the elbow and led her away to the bathroom. Pulling open the door, she thrust the smaller girl inside and turned around, locking the door. Santana paused, staring down Rachel who just stood there, looking nervous. "Oh, for fuck's sake, I'm not going to hurt you, Berry. Jesus! Just stop, okay? That's past."

"Yes, well… you, me, and locked bathrooms have never turned out well for me in the past," Rachel said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Excuse me for being cautious."

"Okay, I get that this defensiveness is you trying to show some kind of control over the situation," Santana said as she looked under stall doors to make sure the bathroom was actually empty. "So I'm not going to argue with you here. Because it seems to me that I'm not the one you're actually mad at. So what's up? What did that bitch do?"

"I have no idea what you mean," Rachel said.

"Oh, can the bullshit," Santana snapped back at her. "I'm sure Brittany's already figured it out, so I could just ask her, but she may accidentally spill at the dinner table so that's probably not what you want, right? So tell me."

"This is… this is emotional blackmail," Rachel said, turning away from Santana to stare at the opposing wall.

"Well, yeah." Suddenly there was a knocking at the door, and Santana yelled towards it, "Occupied!"

"San, it's me," Brittany said. Santana rushed over and unlocked the door, pulling the tall blonde inside. Brittany ignored her though and went over to Rachel, wrapping her in a hug while Santana locked the door back. "I'm sorry, Rach."

"I don't… I don't know what you're talking about," Rachel said, sniffling again.

"It's okay, I know what happened," Brittany said.

"What?! Did Quinn-?"

"No," Brittany assured her, pulling away. "But it's all over yours and hers faces if you know how to see it. I mean, not everything, but enough. And besides, you're my bestest best friend in the whole world. I'm always going to know what's going on with you. Ever since the first day of high school. Since that first slushee. It's always been about you and Quinn. All the important stuff, anyway."

Rachel stared at Santana and Brittany who stood next to each other, a united front, and looked down at her shoes, saying quietly, "I told her."

Brittany just nodded sadly while Santana was confused. "Told her what?"

"San…" Brittany said, placing a hand on her arm. "She told her-told her."

"She told…" And then suddenly it clicked into place. "You told her? Berry, what the hell? Why would you do something like that?"

"I don't know," Rachel said, eyes still downcast. "I just… we were talking about Sam, and I got mad at something stupid, and she asked me why I cared so much, and I just… I blurted it out. I told her."

"Berry…," Santana said, drawing out the word because she had no idea what to say here. This whole situation sucked, and yet, she could sympathize. With Quinn especially. Liking a girl, not wanting to be gay, worried every day what'll happen when your family finds out. Quinn had already been kicked out once. Maybe Judy would kick her out again, maybe she wouldn't. Santana knew the school would turn on Quinn, though. That wasn't even a question. Beautiful, popular, cool Quinn Fabray might be able to gloss over the fact that she'd been pregnant now that it was out of her, but this? No. Never. The school would crucify her. Make what they did to her last year look like a vacation. Fuck.

"I know, Santana," Rachel said. "It was stupid to think that Quinn would be interested in me. I was stupid. I get it. Can we just… pretend like it didn't happen or something?"

"Yeah," Santana said. "That'd probably be for the best." She shot Rachel a sad smile. "Now fix your makeup and let's get back out there, okay?"

"Not yet," Brittany said to Santana. Turning to Rachel, she added, "You're dumb. And I'm sorry for saying that because I know how mean it is, but you are."

"Brittany, I didn't actually think that Quinn would-"

"No, not for that," Brittany said. "Q is… she's Q. And whatever's between you two is between you two. But that's not it. No, you're dumb for thinking that me and San would ever leave you. We're like… I don't know. Sisters or something, now. The four of us. Except we can totally have sex with each other, so not like real sisters. Sorority sisters, maybe? And that means that we're here for life. Thick and thin and big and small and… y'know… other things that are opposite."

"Good and bad?" Santana offered.

"Oh! That's a good one," Brittany said. She turned back to Santana and gave her a quick kiss on the lips before going back to Rachel. "So, yep. You're a big dummy. We're never leaving, no matter what happens between you and Cappy. We're sisters, R."

"I get an initial nickname?" Rachel asked, somewhere between crying and laughing. Craughing.

"Maybe," Brittany said, smiling. "I'm just trying it out for now." She reached out and grabbed Rachel, pulling her into a hug. Santana looked on, amazed at the drama that was her friends, and, as always, the magic that was Brittany. "Get in here, San."

"Oh, no," Santana said, holding up her hands. "Hugging is your thing. Leave me out."

"Come on," Brittany said. "If you can make out with Rach, you can at least hug her."

"You know about…?" Santana glared at Rachel over Brittany's shoulder.

"Of course, silly," Brittany said, turning the Rachel-Brittany hug to look at Santana while never letting go of Rachel. "It was only a matter of time until you two did it. You were so off at Cheerios yesterday that I thought maybe it was me, but then when I saw you being all protective tonight with Rachel, I was like, 'Oh, okay'."

"Brittany, I'm-" Rachel started to say.

"It's okay," Brittany said. "She's free to make out with whoever she wants to. It's not like San and I are dating or anything. I mean, sex isn't dating. Right, San?"

Santana grimaced, but said, "Right."

"So it's cool," Brittany said. Reaching out, she grabbed Santana, pulling her into the hug so they were on either side of Rachel. It would have been hot if Brittany wasn't being so emotional about everything. "Rachel, we love you. You're like family now. If Q were here, she'd say the same. And… I don't think it's new. I think you've always kind of been like our little sister that we picked on but still kind of loved. I know I have, at least. And I know San told me about yours and her talk about second grade, so she has, too. And Q… I think she's kind of always liked you, too. Maybe she's not into you the way you want, and maybe your friendship is still a baby, but there's always been… something… between you two."

"You were right about what you said," Rachel said, voice muffled by the hug. "It's always been about me and Quinn. I've liked her since the first day of high school. Since that first slushee. I've always had this crush on her. I've liked other people along the way: Finn, Puck, Jesse… but with Quinn, there's always been this… passion. This chemistry. I just thought that… maybe…" She trailed off, sniffling again.

"No," Santana said, pulling away. "No more crying. Maybe Quinn's not… whatever. But there are other girls or boys or whatever you want out there. So we're not doing this, okay? We're not going to sit here and cry over her and then go out there and try to have a fucking conversation with her and Judes about school. Okay? So get your game face on and let's go do this shit."

"You're right," Rachel said, pulling away from Brittany and facing the both of them. "I'm fine. It's fine. Or… it will be, at least. I spent most of ninth grade crushing on Quinn without her ever knowing. I can do that again. It's… I'm fine."

Rachel started fixing her makeup while Santana and Brittany watched, Rachel saying something about investing in water-resistant makeup since she'd started wearing it as she had a tendency to cry anyway. Brittany looked over at Santana, and she knew that look meant 'This sucks'. Santana was thinking the same thing. What could she do, though? What could any of them do? She couldn't be mad at Quinn for not returning the girl's affections. Not when Santana was doing the same thing to Brittany. It sucked for everyone, but it was what it was.

So they'd do what anyone would do and do the best they could. They'd go out there with Quinn and Judy, they'd have dinner, make polite conversation, and then they'd go back to Quinn's house and watch movies. They'd all be friends- no, Brittany was right. Sisters. They'd all be sisters because sometimes that was the best it got. It was all they could do.

So they all 'got their game faces on'. Rachel fixed her makeup, Brittany made a joke that got Rachel smiling, and Santana bitched about how her mom would kill her if she wasn't nice to Judy. They did their best. And just as Santana was starting to think everything might be okay, as they made their way out of the bathroom, Santana and Brittany leading Rachel back to the table, Brittany leaned over to Santana and asked, "So… how is Rachel as a kisser?"