I just want to say a quick thanks for the support. It seems that you all loathe Finn lol!
To Jo, I do have a lot of the story planned. Not all yet though. And you don't have to worry. If anything does happen, the most that will happen is that updates will come slower.
"Which one's mine?" Santana gruffed, as she eyed the plates of hot steaming food that were splayed about the kitchen counter.
Stood at the sink, scrubbing a saucepan clean, Quinn glanced over her shoulder at the tight-faced latina. She frowned. But asked no questions.
She couldn't help but wonder what the hell was up with everybody today.
"Uh... Just give me a second. Take a seat at the dining table. I'll serve up shortly."
"I'm not eating at the table," Santana snapped, tugging open the fridge door and snatching the peach and passion fruit juice. "I don't do that shit at home, and I'm not about to start now. So, once again, which plate's mine?"
From the dining table, Brittany watched her ornery wife closely, which didn't go unnoticed by Puck, who was also seated at the table, ready to tuck into the dinner that had filled the space with its stomach rumbling aroma. He watched Brittany eye Santana, and like the stars were aligned, he suddenly remembered that the blue-eyed blonde had threatened to kick his ass when he'd crudely flickered his tongue at Santana last night...
He couldn't help but wonder if maybe they were the mysterious secret couple. If her t-shirt collection was any indication, Quinn was into tits and pink. Rachel was a confirmed gay. What was to stop both Brittany and Santana from being gay too?
It would sure make this season of the show the gayest yet...
Out of nowhere, Finn stood up and stormed off into the bedroom, the turbulence setting his bowl of half-eaten slop into a rattle against the table's wood.
"I hate that dude. Like seriously," Sam commented, his eyes wearing a vitriol that most of the other houseguests had not thought the happy-go-lucky man capable of. "He has no right to still be mad. No right to be mad at all, actually."
Sat next to him, Artie nodded.
"Although I wasn't present when the incident took place I plan to speak to him, and let him know that his behavior towards Rachel was not acceptable," Will spoke up, gazing staunch disapproval up at one of the cameras as he said, "I would've at least thought that Big Brother would have stepped in, or called Finn to the diary room. I'll be talking to them about that too."
Puck grinned and drummed his knife and fork against the table. "Thanks dad."
Will blanched. He could already hear the echoes of his wife's laughter.
Back in the kitchen area, Quinn felt the stirrings of anger in the pit of her stomach. She'd spent the entire afternoon cooking for those that could eat luxury food, and unlike the polite murmurs of gratitude that everybody else had issued, Santana was being a rude bitch about it.
"Which plate's yours?" the blonde snarkily repeated the rude demand, as if in need of clarification when she clearly wasn't. "Well, none of them if you keep talking to me like I'm a piece of shit. Go and wait at the table, like everyone else."
"I love it when the sweet blonde facade fades, and the claws come out," Santana whispered over Quinn's shoulder, hot and breathy. Seductive almost. "Just know that I'm not buying your bullshit little Betty Crocker act."
Quinn tensed up, because the nuisance behind her was skating much too close to the truth - that she had cooked for the house, and planned to continue on doing so, in order to secure herself as a house staple, and win the unshakable fondness of her fellow houseguests, so that they'd be less inclined to vote her out if the opportunity ever arose.
It was a strategy that many houseguests before her had employed, and it was effective, even if it was, evidently, a little transparent.
But either way, she wasn't about to back down to Santana.
"Trust me, you haven't seen anything of my claws just yet," the blonde retorted, whilst casually slotting a few soapy utensils into the drying rack.
"Yeah? Well I hope that they're nice and sharp, doll face. You're gonna need them to claw at the floor boards as I kick your ass out of this house!" Santana hissed, projecting the anger that her argument with her wife had accumulated within her.
All she wanted was to sit down and talk things out with B - maybe buy her a few packs of her favorite candy, along with some flowers, and then seal the reunion with some make-up sex.
But she couldn't do that. She couldn't do any of that in this fucking house!
"What? Nothing to say?" she goaded, needing to make Quinn feel the same frustration that plagued her.
"I have no idea what your sudden issue with me is. But all I have to say is game on, Santana," Quinn responded, sort of blasé about it, so as not to let the latina know that she'd pissed her off, because she had a very funny feeling that that was the shorter woman's only goal.
By now, the closeness of the two women had drawn the attention of the other houseguests who were still sat, waiting, at the circular dining table.
Brittany recognized the scene very well. She had to keep pretending to clear her throat every time her mouth lost track of the fact that she couldn't scold her wife for whatever obscenities she was surely spouting in Quinn's ear.
"What's going on over there?" Artie teased, chuckling.
When Santana span and pierced him with her dark gaze, he knew that he'd fucked up.
"And what's it to you?" the latina confronted the now blushing man, though her tone had been anything but confrontational. It had been friendly, yet tinged with an unmistakable snark.
She sipped from her glassful of peach and passion fruit juice, stirred it with a straw, and waited for the twenty-year-old to say something... so that she could tear into him.
Brittany began to bounce her knee beneath the table. Maybe she'd be able to keep her mouth shut if she bounced her knee up and down.
"Santana..." Artie began, trying to tread as lightly as possible. "It was supposed to be a joke. Maybe you should calm down."
Santana drained the last of her juice, carelessly tossed the glass in the swimming sink, and vindictively purred, "like I'm really gonna take advice from a guy whose glasses are so thick, he probably sees in six dimensions instead of three."
"Santana!" Will scolded, though the timbre of it was more disappointed and aghast than anything else.
"What? It was supposed to be a joke. Maybe you guys should calm down." The moody latina tossed her straw in the trash, and headed for the bedroom.
Brittany sighed, her knee bouncing faster than ever...
Quinn, who'd just dried her hands off, face-palmed. She couldn't believe that she was missing out on spending time with her daughter, to be with the erratic likes of Santana.
As she took off towards the staircase to inform Rachel and Emma that dinner was ready, she reminded herself of why she'd sent that audition tape in, in the first place. For the half a million dollar prize money.
"This is Big Brother!"
Quinn's steady gait slowed at the ominous bass in Big Brother's voice, soon halting altogether.
"Earlier this afternoon, Tina was called to the diary room to answer a series of questions to gauge how well she's gotten to know her fellow houseguests thus far."
Eight pairs of bewildered eyes glided towards the quiet Asian woman, who shrank into her shoulders and acquired a bashful glow.
"After having several real life events described to her, she then had to correctly guess which houseguest each experience belonged to. Tina scored six out of ten, and has earned all houseguests, excluding Finn, a steady supply of alcohol for the night. The alcohol is now available for collection in the storage room. Will Finn now come to the diary room!"
A beautifying smile touched Quinn's cheeks, despite the fact that her heart was still racing with the anticipatory anxiety of what Big Brother had been about to announce. She'd been craving a beer all day.
"Fuck yeah!" Puck suddenly exclaimed, winding his arm around Tina's timid shoulders and squeezing much much too tightly. "I could kiss you!"
"Please don't," Tina croaked, half chuckling, half trying to breathe within Puck's, for lack of a better term, choke hold.
Jacob began to clap. "Nice work Tina!"
Still smarting from Santana's jibe, Artie adjusted his glasses and issued a sullen, "yeah, thanks Tina. I'll go get the booze from the storage room." He stood from his chair, trudged past Quinn, and vanished down the wide hallway.
Once done staring after his wounded friend, Sam managed a wink in Tina's direction. "Good job. Seems like we're all gonna need a drink with how today's going. But at least Big Brother finally seem to be punishing Finn."
Disentangling herself from Puck's over enthusiastic hold, Tina smiled at the handsome surfer. She couldn't believe that such a hot guy had just winked at her.
In that moment she held her chin a little higher, feeling proud of herself for passing the secret diary room task.
"Fantastic job, Tina! But what real life events did they tell you?" Will asked around a frown.
He knew that he was a nice guy and that there weren't many skeletons in his closet. But even so, he wasn't sure that he was comfortable with a stranger knowing about a personal life event that he hadn't chosen to disclose.
Tina shrugged. "N-Nothing too... e-e-embarrassing."
"Will Finn come to the diary room immediately!" Big Brother repeated, a touch more demanding this time.
That was the point at which Quinn jogged upstairs, and rattled her knuckles against the HOH room door.
She heard the muffled voices beyond it cease instantly.
Then...
"Come in!"
The blonde took a gentle hand to the door, pushing it open just a crack. Enough to where she could poke her head into the room non-intrusively. Right away, her warm hazel eyes found Rachel, who was sitting in the armchair in the corner of the luxurious room, whilst Emma was sat on the edge of the enormous bed, facing her.
"Uh, hey," Quinn murmured, a little awkwardly. "Just letting you guys know that dinner's ready. I'm about serve up. I'd get downstairs fast though, because I can't see the first round of alcohol lasting too long."
Rachel smirked at the stunning woman. "Thank you for cooking dinner." She winked. "I've always appreciated a woman who'll whip up a meal for me, and serve it."
In response to the sheer startle that Rachel's bold flirtatious tone had brought about within her, Quinn's lips ran without sound for a moment, before they murmured, "... you're welcome."
Emma's eyes darted between the women with rapt interest. The energy between them was absolutely undeniable, she reaffirmed with herself. Rachel had even sort of flirted with the blonde.
They had to be the secret couple. No other scenario seemed to fit.
"Anywho, I'll be down in a few moments - and also, would you congratulate Tina for me, and thank her on my behalf for winning us the alcohol?" Rachel requested.
"Of course."
When Quinn merely lingered in the doorway, not saying a thing, Emma cleared her throat. "Thank you, Quinn. Be sure to close the door on your way out."
"Sure. See you downstairs." With those parting words, Quinn's head disappeared and the door gently swept shut.
"There really was no need to be so rude to her just then. She cooked dinner for all of us. I'd think that you'd show a little more gratitude!"
"Aha!" Emma suddenly blurted, making Rachel jump a little and frown. "That very reaction, coupled with the looks that the two of you just exchanged, makes me think you're the secret couple! The game's up, Rachel. You can't deny it anymore. Just... admit it."
Internally, Rachel was singing and dancing, because the overly analytical redhead had taken in her flirtatious demeanor towards Quinn and run with it, which was precisely what she'd wanted.
Outwardly, however, the brunette had conjured up a mind-blowingly flawless facade of huffiness.
Everything was going to have run flawlessly if her plan to get Finn evicted, this week, was going to work.
"Oh for God sake, Emma!" she snapped, slipping even further into her role, as if on stage before thousands, "Quinn and I are not married!" She huffed and jumped to her feet. "I have listened to your incorrect theories regarding why I'm married to someone that I'm not married to! I have also answered your intrusive questions regarding my last five relationships, for which many of the details are much too hazy for me to accurately relay! Now, I'm going downstairs to enjoy my dinner! You can do whatever it is that you wish to!"
Upon Rachel's swift exit, Emma lay back on her bed and smirked.
She was now more certain than ever...
With the exclusion of Finn and Santana, the houseguests began to eat and drink around the dining table in relative quiet.
Fifteen minutes had passed and still, Finn was in the diary room. For the most part, the houseguests found themselves speculating over whether or not the tall clueless man would be ejected from the house as a consequence of his previous behavior.
Rachel cooed around the delicious food along with everybody else. But when it came to everyone's insistence upon the notion that Big Brother should eject Finn from the house, she couldn't say that she was on board. And for the simple fact that she was determined to see Finn evicted by her hand. Not Big Brother's. She wanted the stupid man to walk out of the house, sit down for his brief interview with Julie, and watch back the footage of how she'd schemed to orchestrate his demise.
Hopefully Big Brother would just give him a formal warning, and then toss him back into the lion's den... with her.
"What are you over there smirking about? Are you tipsy already? You lightweight."
The suave honey-roasted voice that belonged to the woman beside her, coaxed Rachel from her own mind. She blinked, though her satisfied glow lingered. "What are you doing tonight, Quinn? Anything interesting?" she chirped, before merrily scooping some of the chive and garlic mashed potato into her mouth.
"Well, I'd planned to rob a convenience store, and walk my pet elephant. But other than that..."
"Hmmm. And what are you doing after that, Quinn?"
Quinn chuckled that husky chuckle and drained the last of her beer.
"What's funny?" Besides the fact that I find the way that you drink beer to be incredibly appealing, Rachel mused.
"You seem to like saying my name an awful lot, Rachel."
"Well that's because your name sucks, and I find myself needing to say it over and over again, because I simply cannot believe that anybody would brand their child with it."
"Good thing it's just my middle name, and not my real name then, isn't it?"
Rachel froze, her jaw dropping quite theatrically. "What's your real name?" she shrieked, as if she should have been informed about this sooner.
Quinn wrinkled her nose, grimaced, and then squeaked, "Lucy."
"Lucy?" Rachel blinked as she tried to make the name... fit with the woman's unjust beauty.
Somehow it didn't quite live up.
"Yes." The blonde nodded. "But I loathe it, which is why I go by Quinn. Comprende?"
Emma scoffed over her empty plate and swirled her blood red wine around her glass. Did these two women really think that she was buying their little performance? Whilst she conversed with Will and all of the other houseguests that she could care less about, she could barely contain her eagerness regarding the upcoming nominations ceremony.
She couldn't wait to nominate Quinn and Rachel, and watch their faces transform once they learned that she hadn't fallen for their paper thin little act.
Soon after, Quinn took it upon herself to gather up a few of the dirty dishes and put them in the warm soapy sink water to let them soak.
In the midst of staring over at the domesticated blonde, Rachel felt a gentle nudge in her side.
"Stop gazing at her, dude. You don't wanna creep her out," Puck advised, though there was something distinctly jesting about his tone. "What's up with you two anyway? I know you wanna bang."
Sam, who was within earshot and pretending that he wasn't, released a hushed snigger.
"You are so crude!" Rachel gasped.
Puck wriggled his thick dark eyebrows. "See? Now keep callin' me names and I won't help you get her."
The petite brunette scoffed, sending a reprimanding elbow into Sam's shoulder when he broke into another snigger. "I don't want, nor do I need help, thank you very much." She chugged back her white wine, and set the glass down on the table with an exclamating thud. "Quinn and I are becoming friends. That's it. And before you say it, no, we're not the secret couple."
"I wasn't gonna say that, babe. I genuinely think you guys just met... and wanna bang."
Rachel rolled her eyes, and placed a soothing hand to her satisfied stomach.
That was when Sam decided to officially enter himself into the conversation. "I hate to say it. But I actually think that Quinn's, like, straight."
"I don't," Brittany suddenly interjected, shrugging.
Despite the alcohol in her system, Rachel was still aware that it was necessary to keep her cards close to her chest. So she cautiously asked, "and what causes you to say that?"
"I have a sixth sense for these things."
"Spooky," Puck purred. "But she owns a t-shirt that professes her love for the puss; a sixth sense isn't really needed."
"Noah!" Rachel snapped, "tone the crudeness down!"
"Puckzilla only has one setting."
"I think Quinn's open to anything," Brittany chimed, so casual about it. "Rachel," she began, "why don't you just ask her?"
Sam's eyebrows lifted, because that was actually a pretty good idea. Simple, direct, and effective.
"I will," Rachel decided, issuing an equally decisive nod of the head. "But only because we're learning one another. Not because I want anything more than friendship from her."
Puck, Sam, and Brittany all collectively scoffed.
Just then, Finn shuffled out of the diary room with his head bowed.
An immediate quiet fell over the dining table, the air thick with anticipation as the tall pale man trudged his way over to Rachel.
He planted his feet, standing over her in a manner that was much less threatening than it had been earlier. "I just... wanted to say sorry. For yelling at you," he mumbled.
"And the homophobic slurs?" Rachel coaxed, looking to make this difficult for the ignorant man.
Finn's face paled and then tightened. "I don't believe in... homosexuality. It's wrong," he gritted out.
Everybody at the table face-palmed.
But Rachel calmly nodded her understanding. "Whilst you're more than entitled to your opinions, I do not ever want to hear such bigotry from you again. Keep your ignorance and vitriol to yourself. Now please remove yourself from my space."
Like a small boy - around the age of five - Finn nodded and skulked away, head hung.
Quinn almost wanted to clap from where she was stood in the kitchen, loading left over dinner into the refrigerator.
Indeed, Rachel most certainly did not take any shit.
"What were we talking about before?" Sam asked, eager to move on from Finn's pathetic apology.
It was too late for butchered apologies and puppy dog eyes. The damage had been done.
"I've been meaning to thank you for stepping in with the whole Finn incident," Rachel whispered, unsure as to whether or not Quinn wanted to be alone.
It seemed as though she wanted to be alone. She was gently swaying in the hammock, bottle of beer in hand, perfect porcelain eyelids closed. Night breeze pattering over her cheeks.
"Would you like to be alone?" Rachel decided to just ask.
Quinn seemed to clear her throat, and then her eyelids lifted to reveal intricate spellbinding hazel eyes. "I was just dozing. You're okay to stick around," she husked, still swaying from side to side.
Rachel didn't think that she would ever again see or hear anything as beautiful as how the blonde looked and sounded in that moment.
She was forced to clear her own throat as she carefully sat down on the artificial grass, beside the hammock.
"And you're welcome, by the way. Anybody would've stepped in," Quinn said, projecting a warm - if not a little lazy - smile down at the other woman. "Nice night clothes too."
Rachel spluttered out a note of playful affront and glanced down at her Charmed night shirt, which was sporting quite the sensual print of Alyssa Milano on the front. "I figured that it was the only way that I was ever going to get Alyssa Milano to sleep with me," she chuckled.
Quinn snorted, fizzling into a gentle melodic giggle.
"Do you like it?" the brunette teased, stroking her fingers down her front.
"I love it," Quinn chuckled, hardly able to believe how ridiculous this conversation was. "She looks very... pretty."
"Alyssa says thank you."
When their mirth fluttered away with the breeze, there was a beat of silence, wherein Rachel gulped from her bottle of Smirnoff Ice.
For liquid courage? Perhaps.
She could stand on stage before thousands and belt out classics. But Quinn seemed to be turning her into a prized pussy.
Or rather, getting ready to ask Quinn about her sexual orientation, seemed to be turning her into a prized pussy...
"Does Emma still think we're the secret couple after your talk?" the blonde suddenly asked.
The question threw Rachel at first, before she kicked her mind back into game mode... where it should have been in the first place, she chided herself. "Yes. She was already convinced when I went up to her room. So I just went along with it."
Quinn frowned. "How come? I thought you said that -"
"Well after my run in with the giant, today, I've decided that I want him gone," Rachel answered, frank. "I may have figured out a way to make it happen."
Quinn hummed, all ears. "Explain."
"If you're the secret couple, you're going to want to put someone up who is guaranteed to leave, so that there's no rebuttal the following week, right?"
"Uh huh..."
"Who is public enemy number one in the house right now?"
"Finn."
"Exactly. The secret couple aren't going to want to ruffle any feathers," Rachel pointed out, adamant. "It makes sense that they'd choose Finn to go up on the block, because the whole house is guaranteed to vote him out. Everyone will be glad to see the back of him, and the secret couple can sit pretty, with no blood on their hands..."
"So that's why you were flirting with me in front of Emma upstairs," Quinn stated, more for her own clarification than anything else. "To cement her inkling that we're the secret couple, so that she'll nominate us and go up on the block against Finn."
Rachel grinned, her cheeks rosy with the amount of alcohol that she'd had. "Precisely."
The brunette may have been a little loud and dramatic every now and then, but Quinn was happy that she'd aligned herself with such an alert and flexible mind. "You know, you kind of make me feel blonde with your big smart brain," she uttered into the quiet vast garden.
"And you make me feel average. So I guess we'll call it even," Rachel quipped.
"You're not average."
Rachel rolled her eyes jovially, her cheeks suddenly ablaze. "I know that I'm not... unattractive, even after years of being told the exact opposite by my high school peers. But saying that, even Alyssa Milano is average stood next to you."
Quinn's eyebrow arched, because she really didn't think herself worthy of the dangerously tall pedestal that Rachel seemed to be putting her on. "You clearly haven't seen me without make-up, if you think that," she responded after a few moments. "And your high school peers didn't know what they were talking about. Bunch of assholes, clearly."
"I saw you without make-up this morning, when you were ignoring me. You were still painfully beautiful."
A hand came down and slapped the brunette's shoulder in playful reproach. "I already told you that I wasn't ignoring you," Quinn giggled.
"Hmmm," Rachel hummed flirtatiously. "I'm still deliberating over whether to believe you or not."
"I give up," Quinn joked, lifting her beer to her lips for a long swig. She then swallowed the fizzy liquid and said, "this plan to get Finn evicted - it's risky. The secret couple might not put him up. They could choose any one of us."
Rachel nodded, accepting the blonde's point as valid, because it was very valid. "I know, but Finn has made their decision easy. The secret couple have nothing to lose and everything to gain if they put him up. The whole house wants him gone. It's smart to keep the house happy so early in the game."
"Hmm." Quinn bit her bottom lip pensively. "Still risky."
"The secret couple have been smart enough to keep their connection a secret thus far, so they'll be smart enough to recognize that Finn is their safest and smartest choice," Rachel explained. "But enough game talk!" she merrily announced. "Tell me about yourself. I want to know the interesting things, and the downright boring."
A chortle shook the relaxed blonde's frame, causing the hammock to sway a little wilder. "Sounds an awful lot like you're trying to maneuver this interaction into a date-like situation, to me," she teased, falling apart completely when the brunette petulantly claimed...
"I hate you."
"Evidently not."
"I'm going to evict you the first chance I get!"
"I doubt it. But Santana might," Quinn tossed out.
Rachel shed her artificial huffiness immediately, and made a face that screamed, 'Explain!'
"Well, when you were upstairs talking to Emma this afternoon, Santana kinda cornered me in the kitchen, demanding her dinner."
A frown pinched Rachel's forehead.
"I didn't respond well to her attitude, and then she told me that she was going to kick my ass out of the house. She was pretty much just an all-around bitch to everybody who so much as looked her way."
"Double-you, tee, eff?" Rachel asked, completely at a loss as far as theories that would explain Santana's behavior went. "We're going to have to monitor that."
Quinn waved her hand through the air, dismissive of the other woman's palpable caution. "I'm not afraid of Santana."
And she wasn't. She'd chewed girls like Santana up, and ate them for breakfast during her high school days. If the serpent-like beauty wanted a war, well... she'd gotten it.
Yay for Alyssa Milano, because who didn't have a crush on her back in the Charmed days? ;)