Warnings: embedded barbs to anonymous fallacies
Building Fences Out of Tense Moments
Chapter 03
Polishing My Social Skills
By the time Wednesday rolls around, Rachel's been slushied three times.
Not that she's surprised-she learned last year to always bring a change of clothes to school-but it's exactly why she hates the first week of school. Everybody's so excited about new clothes and friends and lockers, and it's not until the routine and monotony sets in that the slushies diminish from once a day to every few weeks.
"Yeah, well, at least you don't get tossed in dumpsters," Kurt says, biting into his sandwich when she expresses her discontent.
Rachel and Kurt, along with Mercedes, decided to skip the cafeteria today, opting instead for the relative quiet the auditorium provides. The stage lights are warm, but it's still better than trying to eat in the same room with their tormentors.
"Whatever," Mercedes says, dismissing Kurt's statement with a wave of her hand. "At least when you get tossed into dumpsters, they let you take your jacket off. I've had two blouses completely ruined."
"That's your own fault," Kurt says, in that haughty tone that drives Rachel crazy. "It's not like you didn't know what to expect."
"There will be no victim blaming here, thank you very much," Rachel says, managing to keep the annoyance from her voice. It's not like she has many friends; she can't afford to alienate Kurt.
He rolls his eyes and says something about Rachel's social justice crusades-because social justice is the problem, here?-but he doesn't try to defend himself, and so that's the most acquiescence she's going to get from him.
Mercedes opens her mouth to say something, but they're all caught off guard when one of the heavy metal doors at the back of the house area opens and Quinn strolls purposefully into the auditorium.
But only for a few steps, because that's approximately how long it takes for her-Rachel can't quite reconcile using female pronouns in relation to Quinn, but it's what everyone else has been using and Quinn hasn't corrected them, and Rachel is nothing if not respectful-to realize she's not alone.
It's incongruent-the way Quinn's composure sort of falters and she mumbles an apology-to the picture of self-confidence that's been strutting around the school for the past three days. It's incongruent, but somehow, Rachel also finds it completely unsurprising.
What is surprising, however, is how quickly she's on her feet and off the stage. "Quinn," she calls when she's halfway to where Quinn is standing, fully expecting a repeat of when she tried this in the hallway on Monday, but Quinn finally manages to shock her by hanging around.
Quinn looks just as surprised. And maybe a little scared.
"Sorry," she says, looking past Rachel at the other two people in the room, still on the stage. "I was just looking for someplace to be alone," she clarifies, even though Rachel never asked for an explanation.
"You can stay if you want," Rachel says, and it takes every ounce of control she has to keep the hopefulness out of her voice. She takes a tentative step toward Quinn, and it's mirrored by her own step back, and so she just stands awkwardly in front of her, hoping to catch her attention.
"No, thank you," Quinn says, finally meeting Rachel's eyes.
Rachel gets it. She understands why Quinn is behaving this way. It's the same reason she tried to talk herself out of being hopeful when they met. They're from two different worlds, and they just weren't meant to cross. So she's trying-so hard-not to take Quinn's sudden elusiveness personally. Because she knows that it has nothing to do with her; and that this is all some part of Quinn's personal complex.
What she doesn't understand is why Quinn is still standing in front of her, as though she's waiting for some sort of dismissal.
Knowing why Quinn is distancing herself from her, however, doesn't altogether keep the anger or the disappointment at bay. It's one thing to understand; it's another thing entirely to keep herself from compounding years of taunts and isolation from other people into this singular situation and project it onto Quinn, and it's these emotions that have her laughing bitterly and tearing her eyes away from Quinn's.
"Okay, Quinn," is all she can muster, accompanied with an instinctual eye-roll and half-shrug, because this whole situation is just... so stupid.
She supposes that's the dismissal Quinn was waiting for, because she sets her jaw and kind of nods in Rachel's direction before leaving the way she entered.
For a second, Rachel thinks she looks tired.
"What was that about?" Mercedes asks when she rejoins her friends on the otherwise empty stage.
"Nothing," Rachel says, trying to put enough finality into her voice to shut down the conversation.
Except she should have known that would just make Kurt push the issue, because that's exactly who Kurt is.
"That looked like a whole lot of something for a practical stranger," he says and fixes her with his know-it-all stare, as though he is the purveyor of all things interpersonal.
She shrugs nonchalantly and shakes her head. "We met last week," she explains, hoping vague information will be enough to appease him. "Thought we might have been friends for a second."
"Yeah, I know that we're not about victim blaming here, but you really should have known that was never going to happen," Mercedes says.
She can feel Kurt's eyes on her, and she's almost afraid that he'll push further into why, exactly, she was so hopeful about this particular friendship, which is basically the very last thing she wants to talk about right now. The last thing she needs is to be goaded into admitting that she's inexplicably forming a crush on a person who doesn't want anything to do with her, which doesn't even touch on the field day Kurt would have with the sexuality game it presents. She's mostly trying not to think about it, and that's so much easier to do when it's buried inside her own head, instead of out in the world.
"Yeah, you're right," she says, conceding to Mercedes' point.
Out of the corner of her eye, she can tell that Kurt wants to say something-ask more questions, maybe-but her continued refusal to dignify his studious observation of her keeps him quiet.
For now, anyway.
Santana's walking a very fine line.
Brittany's hard to control-not that she exactly wants to, but the less suspicious everyone else is about their relationship, the better-and so it's a careful balancing act between not-quite-enough affection with Brittany and just-enough affection with Puck. It's almost as though the intensity of what she and Brittany can get away with is directly proportional to how public she is about her relationship with Puck. There are things that they can get away with: holding hands, cuddling, the occasional kiss. They're what can realistically be expected from a particularly affectionate female friendship, and as long as Puck remains her primary public love interest, that's all her behavior with Brittany ever gets chalked up to. There's never any reason to take them seriously, because every time things get a little out of hand with Brittany, they get even more out of hand with Puck, and as long as she's showing up to parties and dances on his arm and putting on a show, she basically generates little more than mild curiosity.
In short, Puck allows her a certain amount of freedom in her relationship with Brittany, which is good, because Brittany just doesn't understand the concept of subtlety. It's one of the things Santana loves about her, actually, no matter how dangerous it is, because Brittany loves openly and boldly, and it's exactly what Santana needs in her life. So as long as they're not actually making out in front of anybody, their physical affection largely gets overlooked.
Of course, she can only take her relationship with Puck so far, too, but that's much more easily handled. Given both of their reputations, it's pretty clear to the student body that they're sexually active, but that's not something that can be proved in any sort of legal way, and so as long as they cool it in front of Coach Sylvester, it's not really a problem.
Really, though, it feels like she's got exactly three square feet of space in which to move, and it's all because of that damn contract she signed a year ago.
No, minor public displays of affection with Brittany are nothing new, but showering together certainly is. She's rinsing the conditioner out of her hair when Brittany slips in behind her, and she hisses out a tense, "What are you doing?"
"All the other showers are taken," Brittany says simply with a shrug and nudges Santana to the side so that she can wet her hair.
Shit. Santana peers over the curtain to see if anyone's paying any kind of real attention, but only sees a few members of the squad milling about in various states of undress, mostly gossiping among themselves. Okay. She can make this work. This is salvageable.
She shuts down her panic and pokes Brittany playfully in the ribs. The two have gotten into tickle fights before, and it's never been a problem. This is just with water... and without clothes.
Fuck, it's so hard not to touch Brittany the way she wants to.
Brittany giggles and gently pokes back, and Santana uses it as an opportunity to pull the taller girl out from under the spray so that she can finish rinsing her hair. If she can keep her hands to herself and finish up quickly, this whole situation will probably go completely unnoticed.
Sure enough, two minutes and a chaste peck on the lips later has her wrapping a towel around her body and leaving Brittany to the rest of her shower. It's not until she's reached her locker that she realizes she's been caught coming out of the same shower that Brittany's still in by Quinn.
If it were any one of the other girls, this would be no problem. They're used to Santana's and Brittany's behavior, and largely think nothing of it-or if they do, they don't let on, possibly out of a sense of loyalty and maybe a little fear-but Quinn is the wild card, and Santana's not sure how to deal with her.
If she goes on the defensive too soon, it's just going to draw more attention to Brittany. But if Quinn recognizes what just happened for what it really was, then Santana has to do damage control.
She opts to set Quinn on the defensive-it's the most effective strategy, anyway-and calls out a harsh, "Like what you see?" in the blonde's direction.
Quinn seems flustered and looks away from Santana, pulling a pair of jeans out of her locker and stepping into them. Santana considers pushing the issue for a second, but Quinn's gaze is fixed on the inside of her locker and her lips are pressed into a thin line, and Santana takes it for the signal that she's minding her own business that it is.
Which, frankly, is almost worse; it means that Quinn knows she saw something that she shouldn't, and while she seems content to keep quiet about it now, there's no guarantee she'll stay that way. But Santana also can't press any further without drawing more attention to herself, and so she resigns herself to the fact that she's going to have to ride this one out.
Brittany takes quick showers, and so she's not surprised when her shower cuts off as Santana's pulling on her own jeans. She's also not surprised when Brittany walks out naked as the day she was born, using her towel to dry out her hair. Brittany's never known the meaning of the word "shame," and it's just another one of the amazing things about her that Santana loves.
Quinn, however, does appear to be surprised by Brittany's immodesty, if the fact that she's seemingly forgotten that she was in the middle of applying eyeliner when Brittany came out of the shower. Santana watches her eyes move over Brittany's body-which is nothing new, of course, because it's Brittany-but Santana has a hard time pinning down the look in Quinn's eye. It's almost appreciative, but not quite, and so she settles on comparative, which feels fairly in character with what she knows about Quinn.
Still, it's completely inappropriate, and while she can shrug off Quinn looking at her, she has no right to Brittany's person, and so she slinks next to the lockers until she next to her-completely unnoticed, by the way-and whispers a teasingly seductive, "I didn't know we had Ellen in our midst." It doesn't matter if Quinn is actually lusting after Brittany. Being caught staring at two different girls is enough evidence to arouse anyone's suspicion.
Quinn jumps, which is exactly what Santana wants-to catch her off guard. She is, however, closer to Santana's equal than she'd care to admit, and so she recovers quickly and fixes Santana with a look of amused smugness that has Santana more worried than she dares to admit.
"You sure are quick to point fingers," she says, tilting her head in Brittany's direction, "considering how touchy you are with Portia, over there."
Santana just smiles, though, because Quinn's playing right into the game.
"Up on our lesbian culture, are we?"
"You'd know, I guess."
Yeah, okay, so Santana really should have seen that coming. The knowledge that she allowed herself to walk into Quinn's trap only serves to spark a rage from somewhere deep within that she's almost afraid to tap into. She's mad at Quinn for making a big deal out of something she has nothing to do with, and she's mad at Quinn for noticing in the first place. More than that, she's mad at herself for letting this entire situation get out of hand. She's better than this. She's stronger than this. And this is not going to be where she falls-not to Quinn Fabray.
She's kept her cool until now, but Quinn needs to know just how dangerous she is, and before either of them really have time to process what's happening, Santana's got Quinn shoved against the wall of lockers.
"Don't talk about shit you don't understand," Santana says, her voice low, and she lets every ounce of venom she has enter her words.
It works, because even though she's obviously trying so hard to hide it, Quinn's afraid. They've stuck to snide banter so far, because no shots had been fired, but Quinn's playing with fire now, and she needs to know she's about to get burned.
Except then Brittany's right there, and it cools Santana's rage to a low simmer, and so in Quinn's continued silence, Santana pushes away from the lockers and goes back to her own, shrugging into her shirt with stiff movements.
From behind her, she can hear Brittany telling Quinn to, "try not to take it personally. Santana's just intense," which is probably the nicest way she's ever been described. "Oh, I know!" Brittany continues. "We're doing a girl's night on Saturday, why don't you come?"
"No, Britt, that's not-" Santana starts to protest-because leave it to Brittany to accidentally invite a third to their alone time-but the suspicious look in Quinn's eye stops her. Instead she just says, in a clear voice addressing the entire squad. "That's right. Bonding retreat Saturday night. Brittany's house."
The room erupts in murmurs of excitement, and Santana returns without another word to gathering her things and preparing to leave. She hovers by the door, waiting for Brittany to finish dressing. She's talking to Quinn, but they're too far away for Santana to hear what they're saying, but she forces herself to look away when Brittany embraces the shorter blonde in a quick hug.
It's not until Brittany's standing in front of her with her pinky held out that she makes eye contact. And with a small smile, Santana hooks her own pinky around Brittany's and she almost feels normal.
She's not sure how she manages to keep herself from dragging the eyeliner across her cheeks at the sharp knock on her door, but she does, and she's not sure why Judy bothers with the knock in the first place because, sure enough...
"Hey, Mom," she says to her mother's reflection in her vanity mirror when her door opens and her mother steps inside.
There's only the illusion of privacy, really.
"Just thought I'd come check on you," Judy says, taking a few tentative steps into the room. "That's a beautiful dress."
"Thank you," Quinn says, finishing up her makeup.
"How do you feel? Are you nervous?" her mother asks, sitting gingerly on the edge of Quinn's bed and sipping delicately from the glass of wine in her hand. Quinn's starting to worry it's going to permanently fuse with her mother's flesh and just become a part of her body.
"Well, I wasn't until you asked that," Quinn says, and it's mostly true. Going out with Finn feels very much like an extension of going to school; it calls for a certain set of theatrics, and as long as she sticks to her script, there shouldn't be any problem. The insinuation that it's an event that should be fretted over...
Her mother doesn't apologize, though. Instead, she just kicks Quinn's anxiety higher. "You know this isn't like securing general popularity," Judy warns.
She knows this. Endearing herself to the general student body basically boils down to producing an air of unattainability, which is done through appearance as opposed to interaction. This date, on the other hand, will require her to be more personable without crossing over the line into desperate, and she knows that it's a completely different performance. Talking about it, however, isn't going to help anything.
"I know," she tells her mom with a calculated gentle firmness. She wants Judy to know that she's ready for this, but she's also wary of outright offending her mother, and so, much like the rest of her life, Quinn finds herself toeing a line so fine it's practically invisible.
She stands up from her vanity and moves to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, inspecting the way her dress hangs from her body and making sure it hugs and drapes in all the right places.
She's distracted, though, because she can see her mother approaching in the reflection.
"You need to give them just enough promise," Judy explains, tugging the collar of Quinn's dress down a few centimeters. "Not a guarantee," she continues, catching Quinn's eye seriously. "Just enough so he thinks he might have a chance if only he tries hard enough."
She feels exposed and uncomfortable, and she knows it's stupid. It's not like her mother has dropped the neckline so far that she'd even be considered immodest by anyone-Quinn's just not accustomed to having any amount of cleavage on display, no matter how small, and she has to stop herself from readjusting her dress.
Her mother's just trying to help-in her own way, anyway.
Judy moves slowly behind Quinn, making small adjustments to her appearance: pulling her shoulders back, and arranging her hair delicately across her shoulders. "There, see?" she says, admiring her handy-work. "He won't be able to take his eyes off you," she concludes, which sounds to Quinn like code for, "Even you couldn't mess this up, now." After all, if he's distracted by the external, maybe he won't notice anything else.
She sighs and reminds herself to be grateful, because her mother is only trying to help her achieve the only goals Quinn's ever voiced.
It's why she sounds genuine, even to herself, when she says, "Thanks, Mom." There's no time to have a moment, though, because the doorbell interrupts them.
"Good luck," Judy says as they leave Quinn's room and move down the hallway. Quinn's halfway down the stairs when Judy adds a quick, "Remember that they like to chase."
Quinn stops at the bottom step and turns to nod at her mother in acknowledgment, and with a final, deep breath, moves to answer the door.
Finn regrets going to dinner before the movie. The mostly silent car ride to Breadstix was bad enough, but soon after they're seated, it becomes painfully clear that he has no idea how to fill the time, and at least the movie would have given them something to talk about. Instead, he's stuck shooting in the dark, which is only made worse by the fact that he can't even rely on mutual acquaintances to discuss, since Quinn's only been here a week.
And those are just the problems that he was prepared for. Throw in the way Quinn looks tonight, and-
He'll be lucky to concentrate on anything tonight.
He can't tell if his brain is working too quickly or too slowly, and as he's trying to come up with something to say to her after their host takes their drink orders, she picks up the menu, starts to flick through the pages, and asks, "What is your family like?" in the most off-hand way possible.
It feels strangely like a dismissal, even though it's an invitation.
It's easy, though, to talk about himself, especially since his sensitive sob story about his dead dad and single mom usually earns him points with girls, even if he can't figure out what to do afterward. That's later, though, and it's a good starting point, so he tells her all about what it was like growing up with an absent father figure.
"In a way it's good, though, you know?" he explains-twenty minutes later, after their food's been delivered-and he can't tell if her exaggerated attention is genuine, or if she's mocking him somehow, but he presses on anyway, because there's no going back at this point. "He died a hero, so that's what he'll always be. I'll never have to be disappointed in him and he'll never have to be disappointed in me."
He thinks he's being deep, and while he still can't tell if Quinn's behavior is genuine, he's decided to take her show of thoughtfulness as she chews her salad at face value.
"What about your mom?" she asks after a few silent seconds.
He tries so hard not to grin, because this is exactly where he wants the conversation to go, but he can feel his cheek twitch despite himself. This is what gives him a sense of sensitivity, after all, and girls want someone that can both protect them and understand them, which is why the fact that he was raised by a single mom makes him so appealing.
According to Puck, anyway.
He takes a moment to swallow his mouthful of spaghetti before he answers, dabbing politely at his face with the napkin he laid across his lap.
"I think my mom's a hero, too. She raised me without any help, and I know how hard that must have been for her," he says gently, hoping to appeal to every girl's natural pull toward maternity. "I also think it gave me a perspective on women that maybe other guys don't get, you know? Like... I was raised by a really strong woman, and so I think I have more respect for women in general."
The fear that rises in his throat at Quinn's expression is instantaneous and causes him to wipe his palms along his pants. Her brow is furrowed, and she looks offended, and he goes back over the conversation in search of where he went wrong. He's about to start apologizing without knowing why just to buy himself some time, but she shakes her head as though to clear it, and it's the second time he thinks she's swallowed an initial reaction to tell him something different.
He has no idea what to make of her.
Quinn's face relaxes back into pleasantness, and she even offers him a smile, and so he decides it's ultimately not worth worrying about. She's smiling across the table from him, and that's all that really matters.
"You're right. It must have been very hard for her," she says with empathy. "It must have been very lonely."
He sighs, and he's actually thankful that the waiter brings him the check at that moment. It gives him a few minutes of fiddling with his wallet to sort out whether or not to talk about what's going on at home. Good relationships are based on that kind of support, though, right? And so it's got to be a good sign that he already feels comfortable enough opening up to her this way.
"I guess that's probably true," he concedes. "She's started dating again, though, and that's been hard."
"For her or for you?"
He doesn't understand what's happening. If he didn't know any better, he'd say she's challenging him, but he can't, for the life of him, figure out why. What was there to challenge in any part of the conversation so far?
"Both, I guess," he says, because it's true. "I guess guys aren't lining around the block to take out a single mom with a teenage son," he explains. "But it's also weird just seeing her with anybody."
Quinn shakes her head quickly and Finn prepares himself for an argument-starts running through responses to possible statements before she even opens her mouth-but all she says is, "I guess I can see where that would be hard."
The waiter finally comes back with his change which works as a convenient enough closer to the conversation. This probably wouldn't be the time to delve into how much he hates who his mom's dating because of his son. Burt's an okay guy, he guesses, but Kurt...
"Anyway," he says, plastering on what he hopes is his most charming smile and retrieves the fake I.D. he procured for Quinn yesterday from his back pocket. "This is for you. You're going to need it to get into the movie tonight."
Her expression shifts into amusement, and Finn can feel himself relax. Maybe he can save this date, after all.
"This looks nothing like me," she says.
"Close enough," he says with a shrug as he stands up and offers her his hand to help her in turn. "They won't look too hard."
"Okay," she says, taking his hand and following him to the car. "But if you get me in trouble, my father owns guns."
It never occurs to him that he still doesn't know anything about Quinn.
The movie is a good idea, despite the initial hiccup that came when Quinn found out they were going to see the latest gore-fest instead of the romantic comedy. Finn still can't figure out why she made such a show of being displeased with his choice for the night, since Quinn's become increasingly relaxed the further into the film they get.
He knew it was a risk at the time. There are only two real date movie genres, and those are romance and horror, but Puck told him that if a romantic comedy was playing that he should always opt for that. It shows the girl that he's willing to torture himself for her. On the other hand, horror films supposedly mimic the symptoms of arousal, and offer a convenient excuse to put his arm around Quinn.
Plus, it's also something he enjoys, so he took the risk.
It pays off, though, because twenty minutes into the movie, he manages to slip his arm around her shoulders without protest as the music hitches and the zombies are revealed. He tries to be covert about looking at her, but after a few minutes, he realizes there's no point since she's clearly engaged in the movie. Pleased with his decision, he settles back into his seat to watch the film, content in the knowledge that she'll at least let him put his arm around her.
It doesn't last long, though. As the action picks up and it becomes apparent that the zombie is about to infect one of the peripheral characters, Quinn shifts to the edge of her seat. He's not sure if she moved away from him intentionally, or if she's just really that into the movie, but then the protagonist decapitates the zombie in question and Quinn cheers along with half of the theater.
He'd be praising his luck for managing to impress such a cool girl, but as the film continues and they share enthusiastic glances at each more gruesome death scene, he starts to get the feeling that this isn't quite a date. He doesn't know, exactly, when the mood shifted, but as Quinn throws a fist in the air and yells in delight as the female love interest gets impaled, it feels more like he's hanging out with Puck than trying to win over a girlfriend.
She's surprised by how much she's enjoying herself, by the end of the night.
Not that Quinn had high hopes to begin with, but after a decent-but so boring-dinner in which she successfully managed to keep his attention off of her as a person as she sat through his entitled complaining about his mother's dating life, she was fully prepared for sitting through some mindless comedy he thought she would like.
The movie they actually saw was much better, if a little formulaic. There had been an awkward moment in line where she felt she had to make a show about pandering to male tastes, but she thinks she played it off as teasing, so she's not too concerned.
But somewhere along the way she forgot that she was on a date. There was a moment in the theater when he had slipped his arm around her and she tried to let it be okay, but... well, they both got into the movie, and the date aspect of the night seemed to disappear entirely.
Which is how she finds herself doubled over with laughter as she and Finn reminisce about some of the more creative gore scenes as he escorts her to her door.
"I thought you didn't like horror movies," Finn says when they've reached her door, and the mood sobers significantly, because now he's looking at her in that way that...
She doesn't know, exactly. She just knows that it's uncomfortable.
She pushes it away, though, because right now she has a job to do, and so she gives him her best smile and says, "Well, I couldn't make it that easy for you."
"Playing hard to get?" he asks, and he smiles crookedly, as though he already knows he's won.
She doesn't know how to answer the question, though, so she just shrugs coyly.
"I can work with that," he says, mirroring her shrug and takes a step toward her.
She knows, before he even starts to lean in, that he's going to kiss her, and her brain works in overdrive. Her first instinct is to pull away, but she remembers that this is exactly what's supposed to happen-what's expected of her-so she forces herself to stand still.
She doesn't know where it comes from, but something in the back of her mind tells her to, "man up," as he leans in, and while it's a little disconcerting, it works-she has a job to do, after all-and she tilts her head to the right just in time, and it's that thought that makes kissing him almost okay.
It's his hand. It feels massive against the side of her face, and when it slides down to her neck, she wonders how little pressure he'd have to exert to snap her neck. Her head is tilted back at an uncomfortable angle, and he makes her feel overwhelmingly small.
He's chaste and respectful, though, and she's thankful for small favors. He doesn't try to shove his tongue down her throat-though, she's sure that's coming in the near future-and the kiss itself doesn't last longer than a few seconds.
She always thought she'd establish more significance to her first kiss than this.
He tells her goodnight and heads back to his car, and her parents are waiting for her when she steps inside.
"He seems like a good boy," her father says, taking a pull from the tumbler in his hand. He's got the flush of a pleasant drink, and she thinks he's probably on his second. "He doesn't seem too... pushy."
"Yes, he seems very respectful," Judy agrees.
"Were you guys spying on me?"
"Just looking out for you," Russell corrects and steps forward, pulling her into a one-armed hug. "I'm glad you've finally come around," he whispers in her ear. "We were getting worried about you."
She doesn't actually know what he's talking about-and she suspects that he doesn't either-but it's just the latest in a long line of throwaway comments that seem to imply that there's something inherently less-than about Quinn. It's okay, though, because she's learned how to survive off backhanded compliments and focuses on the positive half. She's come around.
"Thanks, Dad," she says, and he steps away from her, and he's smiling in that happy drunk way he does when he remembers to moderate himself.
He leaves shortly after, when it becomes obvious that her mother wants to have a private word, and he raises a glass to both of them with an acknowledgment of, "ladies," as he retreats to the den.
"You did well," Judy says, stepping forward and placing a cold hand against Quinn's cheek. "He's going to be easy to control."
Quinn shakes her head, because she doesn't quite understand how her mother could know that. From where Quinn was standing, it seemed like she played a fairly passive role and that Finn controlled the entire interaction.
"How do you know that?"
"Please. Tasteful, closed-mouth kiss? Not even an innuendo of something more? He's confident enough to try, but he's afraid of pushing your limits. You've got him right where you want him, Honey. Keep it up," Judy explains.
Strangely, it doesn't make Quinn feel any more powerful.
All in all, the slumber party-might as well call it what it is; "bonding retreat," her ass-is a good idea. After all, a few of them are going to be tossed around in the air by the rest of them, and that not only requires skill, but trust. And the only way to build trust is to, well... spend time together.
So, while, yes, Santana would rather be spending some alone time with Brittany-especially after spending the entire previous night with Puck-this is a not altogether unpleasant alternative.
The only anomaly seems to be Quinn, even if she can't quite put her finger on why her presence feels so foreign. She's been a good sport, considering she doesn't know any of these girls from Adam, and she's participated in every whim they've had.
Maybe that's why it feels so strange, though, because it's almost like Quinn doesn't have a self-just a blank slate to be imprinted upon by the requirements of her surroundings.
She watches from where she's sitting at the head of Brittany's bed as the girls finish up Quinn's makeover-whatever, she looks exactly the same-and move onto the next. Regardless of Santana's own suspicion of Quinn, she has to admit that the blonde is fitting in with the rest of the squad. It's ultimately a good thing. Quinn's clearly an asset, even if Santana will never admit that out loud.
She can hear Quinn thank Brittany for having them all over, and then she's sitting next to Santana, because really, there's nowhere else for her to go.
It's awkward, because the only person Santana can sit in comfortable silence with is Brittany, and Quinn is very decidedly not the same, so when it becomes apparent that Quinn isn't going to say anything, Santana does.
"Glad to see you're making friends."
"Are you really?" Quinn asks, and despite the smoothness of her voice, Santana thinks she can sense a trace of pain underneath the indifference.
It's true that Santana's been generally less than welcoming toward Quinn, but it's not like that's unexpected. There's just something suspicious about someone so hollow, and it's not like their passive-aggressive banter hasn't suggested a baseline threat level, anyway. On the other hand, Quinn is one of the more skilled athletes on the squad, and if she's going to trust any of her teammates to Quinn's reliability,, she's going to have to soften her edges a bit.
"Yeah, I am," she insists, with a small half-shrug. "It's good for the squad."
Quinn nods once in curt understanding and they both fall silent for a few minutes. Santana can feel the other girl watching her, and so she purposely keeps her eyes trained on the rest of her squad across the room.
"Can I ask you a question?" Quinn asks, and her voice is different, somehow. It's quiet, and it's probing, and it has Santana looking over in genuine curiosity. "What's up with you and Brittany?"
It's a question she gets a lot, so she's not completely surprised by it. She times herself-waits a beat so that her response won't come off as defensive-and asks, "What do you mean?" without making eye contact.
Quinn's hesitation suggests her own level of discomfort with the topic, and it's that unease that has Santana wondering if maybe she's been wrong about Quinn since day one. She still puts out a disjointed energy, and Santana doesn't like it, but if Quinn was actually malicious, Santana's pretty sure she'd be delighting in her invasion of privacy.
Then again, maybe Quinn's just a really good actress.
"You two seem very... affectionate," Quinn eventually clarifies, tracing the swirly patterns on Brittany's bedspread with her fingertip.
The gentle way Quinn probes is a marked change from the way she's been going about gathering information. Santana's mostly seen her assert her entitlement, and so this change of tactic throws her.
Still, this conversation never really changes from person to person, which is how the half shrug and casual, "And?" come out on autopilot. The more insignificant she keeps this, the less likely it is that Quinn will push.
"I don't know," Quinn says, and Santana can see her shrug from the corner of her eye. "You just seem really close. I just thought there might be a story, there."
Santana lets herself look at Quinn head on, but Quinn's looking at the girls across the room, where Brittany's applying the finishing touches to another girl's face, and Santana revisits their confrontation in the locker room earlier that week. She had taken a jab at Quinn's sexuality, but she hadn't been serious-she'd caught Quinn staring at Puck, after all; then again, she'd also caught her staring at Brittany. There's something about Quinn's forced nonchalance, however, that has Santana rethinking her own assumptions about the blonde's sexuality.
Perhaps, instead of a rival, Quinn could be a kindred spirit?
It's what gives her pause and makes her consider actually telling Quinn the truth. After a year of skirting around the subject with literally everyone in her life, it might be nice to know somebody who's hiding in the same kind of way.
But then she remembers there's a reason she keeps her relationship private, and that she can't risk it-especially not on someone whose motives she can't make clear heads or tails of, and so she confirms that there's, "No story to tell," with enough finality to signal the end of the conversation, but without the venom to signal aggression. "We just grew up together is all."
It works, she guesses, because Quinn just nods. Santana will never know if she had a follow-up, though, because Brittany bounces over seconds later, effectively ending the conversation.
"I think I actually want to go to the game," Rachel tells Kurt as she pulls her World History book from her locker.
The question had been, "What would I have to do to get you to go with me?" so, of course, her willing compliance is met with suspicion.
"This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain blonde cheerleader, would it?"
She's half-expecting the question, because Kurt's been making allusions to a "surprise crush" of Rachel's since last Wednesday, but this is the first time he's suggested his prime suspect.
Rachel neither confirms nor denies his suspicion, because she generally doesn't like lying, but she also wants to keep her options open, and just asks him if the only reason he wants to go "has anything to do with a certain quarterback?"
He just shrugs nonchalantly, because that's just who Kurt is, and reminds her that he, "enjoys examining the male body in all of its forms."
Rachel doesn't have much to respond with that isn't an eye roll, but she's saved the trouble when they're interrupted. Though, "saved" might not be the right word, here.
"Well, if it isn't Sticks and Man-Hands," Santana drawls from over Rachel's shoulder, and she turns and follows Kurt's gaze to come face to face with Santana and her Band of Evil Cheerleaders. Santana's called them a lot of names over the years, but these are two of her favorites. Rachel's not entirely sure why she's stuck with calling Kurt "Sticks," though. If she remembers correctly, it's a reference to the literal meaning of faggot, but Rachel's not sure why Santana doesn't just use the slur.
"What do you want, Santana?" Rachel asks as neutrally as she can.
"Now is that any way to greet old friends?" Santana responds, placing a hand on her chest and feigning injury. "I'm hurt."
Rachel's never understood this particular bullying tactic-initiating an insult followed by feigned innocence-as though anyone's actually dumb enough to succumb to it. Is Rachel just supposed to forget that Santana just referred to her as "Man-Hands?"
"God, you're so easy," Santana sneers at Rachel's continued silence. "You know, if you didn't take yourself so seriously, people might actually like you more. Isn't that right, Barbie?" she asks, turning to look at Quinn.
It was easy enough to ignore Quinn's presence when she was silent, but now that Santana's passed the ball to her-and really, the fact that Santana's deferring to her at this point is not a good sign; it indicates Quinn's approved acceptance into the group-it's almost as though Rachel can't help but lock eyes with her.
Foolish as it seems, Rachel doesn't actually see it coming until she sees Quinn glance quickly at Santana and then over the expectant faces of approximately one quarter of the Cheerios. There's a moment when Quinn gives her a look of wide-eyed panic-though it's so fast that it's possible Rachel imagines it-and then it's as though Quinn slips into her best impersonation of Santana.
"Yeah, Beak-Nose. Calm down," Quinn says, and then she and Santana and the rest of them are gone, snickering to themselves about how easy Rachel is, and she wonders if they even live in the same reality.
It's mild, as far as insults go, and so that's not what gets under Rachel's skin. No, what bothers Rachel is that everything about Quinn's behavior feels tense and forced. Even that would be fine, though, if she thought for a second that Quinn recognized it herself. What really bothers Rachel isn't the fact that Quinn is lying to everyone around her-that's just a defense mechanism to get through high school-but that she's also lying to herself.