Longer chapter. Thanks for the input guys. It is fun to play with some of the ideas you guys give me. On with the nominations ceremony...
Other than the quiet hysteria that had settled over the Big Brother house, thanks to the nominations ceremony that would be taking place shortly, something almost school playground and romantic had secretly filled the air; touching each corner like a shy kiss to the cheek.
Puck had buried the only remaining bottle of wine deep into the fridge, whilst Tina had gone to the diary room to get clarification on which condiments houseguests were permitted to add to slop.
Then there was Brittany's small but jovial contribution, which had consisted of emptying a jar of cashew butter, cleaning it out, and filling it with a few of the artificial flowers that could be found out in the back garden.
Indeed, now that Rachel had somewhat been given the go ahead, she was determined to make tonight a night that Quinn would always look back on with fondness...
And of course, the hazel-eyed blonde had just been going about her day, oblivious to it all.
It was perfect.
"Hurry the hell up, mohawk boy! I need to piss!" Santana barked, banging relentlessly on the bathroom door.
"Just hold on a second. Sheesh."
The latina deadpanned. If there was one thing that she hated, it was being told to hold on a second. "I can always go relieve myself in your pillow case. I'm sure it'd make for some pretty interesting dreams. Now hurry up!"
A few minutes later, the toilet flushed, and Puck emerged, a grave tint to his eyes as he stood over the easily aggravated woman. "You might wanna give it an hour before you go in there," he warned. "The stench is serious."
"Boy move," Santana grunted, shoving past him - the top button of her jeans already unfastened.
Puck simply stood there, waiting for it...
"Holy fuck!" Santana suddenly gasped, tears almost springing to her eyes as she scrambled to step away from the bathroom and pull the door shut simultaneously. "What the fuck?" she demanded, needing answers - anything that would explain that smell. "There a God damn demon livin' up your ass or somethin'? Holy fuck! Why couldn't they've thrown a priest in this place? An exorcism would be great right about now."
Puck shrugged and slipped his hands into his pockets. "You were warned, dude."
"My God damn make-up is pealing."
Puck chuckled as he headed out into the garden, slinging, "babe, just be glad you're not blind," over his shoulder.
Santana growled low in her throat. She wasn't glad for anything, because her bladder was pulsating, and the bathroom was a freaking death trap in disguise.
"The HOH room's en-suite it is, then," she grumbled to herself when, by chance, she noticed Quinn shuffling into the laundry room.
The sight stopped the latina in her tracks, reminding her of the conversation that she'd had yesterday with her wife.
Other than where Brittany or other family members were concerned, it wasn't at all often that Santana Lopez apologized. She'd always been bloody-minded in that way, even when clearly in the wrong. But now she was in the Big Brother house, playing for half a million dollars. That, and if her wife wanted her to reconcile with the hazel-eyed blonde, for the sake of this yet to be formed all girl alliance, then so be it...
"Just the blonde that I was looking for," she purred from the doorway. "You're looking very... homely today in your red little bandana and slop-stained sweats."
Quinn glanced up from where she was crouched before the washing machine, lifting an eyebrow at the peculiar energy that had filled the space, now that Santana was stood in the doorway. "Can I... help you with something? Or are you just here to share your strange observations?"
As Santana stepped into the room and pulled the door in, she rolled her eyes. Not only because she'd never been any good at complimenting bitches that she could give two fucks about. But because... homely? Really?
But whatever. She was already over it.
"We gotta talk," she said, blunt and to the point.
Almost like she was playing one of those dance games on an IPad Touch, Quinn punched three of the washing machine's buttons in quick succession. She watched as her clothes span into motion, for a while, before rising from her crouched position, and looking the woman who'd threatened both her and Beth's livelihood, directly in the eye. "What could you and I possibly have to talk about? I thought it was understood that you're coming for me, and I'm coming for you."
"Yeah, well I guess you're just gonna have to reign in your thirst for retaliation, 'cause there's a not-so-secret anymore all guy alliance in the house," Santana revealed, buttoning her jeans back up indifferently.
"Okay..."
"And they're lookin' to pick a girl off each week," Santana added, tilting her head forward just a touch, as if to coax a reaction out of the blonde.
But Quinn kept her lips sealed. She was certain that she pretty much had everybody else in the house pegged. All except for the inexplicably guarded woman that was stood before her. She hadn't yet figured her out, and because of that she didn't trust her.
Not one iota.
"Nothing to say, doll face?"
"How do I know you're not making this up to serve some other agenda that you may, or may not have?" Quinn probed, eyeing the other woman with obvious suspicion.
Santana sighed, bored. "If we don't learn to stick the fuck together, we're fucked. Simple. You're either with us, or you're against us, Quinn. Choose."
"Who's us?"
"The rest of the bitches in the house! That's who's us!"
Quinn sucked in a slither of air, and gave a faint lone nod. "Nobody's said anything to me. I'll do some investigating, and then I'll... think about it. But thanks for the info."
"You're welcome, doll face. Be sure to let Rachel know what's up too, since she seems to be the brains of your marriage."
The comment, however scathing, caused the blonde to smirk, simply because Rachel was, indeed, the brains of their two-person operation.
"Oh, and what else did I come in here to say?" Santana asked herself, casually clicking her fingers as though the motion would jog her memory. Even though it didn't need to be jogged. "Oh yeah," she said, feigning recollection, "sorry for being a dick the day before yesterday. I was in a fucked up mood, and you caught the brunt of it." She shrugged. "Quietly do your little investigation and get back to me."
Without giving Quinn chance to even swallow, let alone respond, Santana was gone.
"How a-are you feeling a-about t-tonight? E-Excited?" Tina stammered, frowning as her speech impediment reached her own ears. She'd been stuttering like a mother fucker all day, and it was beginning to make her feel even more self-conscious than usual.
She wasn't sure; maybe it was the stress of the looming nominations ceremony...
"Hey," Rachel cooed, gently touching Tina's arm. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Many people have a stutter. My ex-girlfriend used to stutter after sex," she confessed, following it up with a fluttering juvenile chuckle.
Tina's features slowly imitated the other woman's risqué mirth. "You're that good, huh?"
Rachel smirked at the Asian beauty, who was surely becoming her friend. "I'm not saying any more. I've already said too much. Bryony may've turned my proposal down, but it was hell getting her out of my life thereafter. The last thing I want is for Big Brother to air my previous comment, only for her to come knocking on my front door with a grudge."
"Well if Bryony does come knocking on your door with a g-grudge, a-at least now you'll have Quinn to protect you."
Rachel scoffed; she should be so lucky. "I'm nervous about tonight," she confessed. "Excited, but most definitely nervous. I know that that may seem ridiculous, since I've only known Quinn for four days, but if you'll pardon the cliché, it feels as though I've known her much longer. I don't know." She shrugged, the motion setting the stool upon which she was seated into gentle turbulence. "I just hope I'm not coming on too strong. If this goes badly, the entirety of America will've bared witness to my, for lack of a better term, epic fail."
"It's not... r-ridiculous. When you like s-someone, you like someone. Doesn't m-matter how long you've known them. And you have n-nothing to worry about," Tina assured her with a kind smile. She swiveled Rachel's stool around so that the brunette was partway facing the vanity mirror, and then added, "Quinn seems r-really easygoing and fun. At the very least, she'll enjoy it. At the very m-most, she'll start to look at you t-the way you look at her."
The petite brunette looked to her own lap, and murmured, "thank you for your assistance today, Tina."
Tina gently lifted Rachel's chin up, angled it, and continued to dust the shorter woman's cheekbones with strokes of blusher. "It's okay. You're welcome," she replied soon after. "T-There's nothing else to do in here but play cupid anyway."
"Gee, thanks."
"You're welcome."
There were other things to do in the house. At least there were if you were the Head Of Household anyway.
Now that the day of reckoning had arrived, Emma was fretting slightly. In a last ditch effort to secure Rachel and Quinn as the secret couple, in her mind, the lady-like redhead had interrogated Sam, Puck, Brittany, Will, Santana, and Artie, and nothing had been said that would have her question their stories.
As she emptied the black velvet drawstring pouch, and watched each houseguest's key fall to her bed, she double-checked her decision with herself.
"It's got to be them," she murmured into the silence, before slotting the first key into the lazy-Susan-like circular box.
Not too long after Emma had finished slotting the houseguests' keys into the box, did the dreaded, "will all houseguests gather at the table for the nominations ceremony!" ring out in the house.
The redhead was already stood near the dining table, hands clasped before her abdomen, waiting.
"Here we go," Santana mumbled as she drew a chair out and sat down.
In reality, she couldn't wait for it - the moment when both her and Brittany would be free to announce themselves as the secret couple.
For the latina, it was here we go indeed.
The other houseguests ambled up to the table soon after, taking their seats. It was almost as though they'd sat down to watch a hanging...
The anxiety that had circled the table manifested itself in ample different ways; Artie's incessant nail biting, Rachel's serious unblinking stare, Will's tendency to take an audible breath every few seconds, Sam's need to fiddle with his fingers.
Then there was Finn, who was sat up straight, convinced that he was going to be safe, regardless of his behavior towards Rachel two days ago. He'd apologized and she hadn't accepted it. In his mind, that was on her. Not him.
"Let's go, Emma," Puck prompted, ruffling his uncombed product-less mohawk.
"Yeah, let's do this!" Brittany chimed. She drummed her pale knuckles to the table, so over having to hide her marriage.
Emma took a step forward, and hooked the circular box, with the keys slotted into it, up to the center of the dining table.
She then cleared her throat, and spoke. "This is the nominations ceremony. One of my duties, as Head Of Household, is to nominate two people for eviction. However, in this case, my duty is to successfully nominate the two houseguests who make up the secret couple."
Quinn's eyes met Rachel's across the table, a subtle smile playing on both their faces.
Emma swallowed, her voice a little shaky as she said, "I will begin by pulling the first houseguest's key, and that person is safe from nomination. I will then roll the key slot box along to that person, who will then pull the second houseguest's key. That person will also be safe. And so on."
Jacob nodded, hardly able to believe that he was taking part in a nominations ceremony. He'd watched the ritual play out across his TV screen so many times. Everything right down to the lazy-Susan, and the gold lettering that marred each key, he appreciated.
Extending her pale hand out, Emma secured her fingers around the first key, twisted it unlatched, and drew it from the box. She took in the bold gold letters that were printed across it and announced, "Finn, you are safe."
Grinning, Finn jumped to his feet to receive the key slot box that Emma had rolled around towards him. "Thanks Emma," he chirped, reaching in to draw the next key.
Brittany was certain that the man was deliberately taking his time pulling out the key. But it was okay. He was going to pay for all of his transgressions, soon enough.
"Artie, you are safe," Finn declared, rolling the box around to twenty-year-old man, who'd given a tight smile before standing up.
"Thanks Emma," Artie murmured as he pulled the next key. "Santana, you are safe."
"Thank you, Emma," the latina purred, standing to receive the box from Artie.
Emma's forehead had sprouted an unladylike sheen of sweat. It had gotten to the point where she was wincing with every key that was pulled. For all she knew, she'd already saved a houseguest who was one half of the secret couple.
She hoped not.
She sincerely hoped not...
All eyes watched as Santana drew the next key, and held it up to the light. "Tina, you are safe," she announced, pushing the box around the table.
Tina smiled and stood, quietly pulling the next key. "Puck, you are safe."
"Thanks Em," he simply chirped, standing as the box reached him. "It's not like anybody can imagine Puckzilla married anyway, though right?"
"Be quiet and pull the next key!" Emma scolded him, lips pursing once they'd ceased their biting motion. She maneuvered her owlish eyes between Rachel and Quinn, looking for anything that would indicate their worry over the fact that their keys had not yet been pulled. But the redhead saw nothing of concern in their eyes, and that really began to stress her out.
After advising Emma to chill, Puck pulled the next key and proclaimed, "Sam, you are safe."
Sam rose from his seat, smiling Emma's way. "Thank you." He quickly stopped the key slot box from rolling past him, given the power that Puck had put behind pushing it.
There were a few quiet chuckles from the houseguests that had already received their keys.
"You're such a kid," Artie fondly mused, to which Puck grinned and shuffled back down into his chair.
Sam twisted the next key unlatched, and drew it from the slot. His eyes passed over the gold lettering. "Brittany, you are safe," he said, smiling at the tall dancer.
"Thanks Emma," Brittany merrily chimed, rising to her feet.
At that point, all of the safe houseguests peered at Quinn, Rachel, Will, and Jacob, because they were the four remaining houseguests, and there were only two keys left to pull.
"Will, you are safe," Brittany read aloud.
"Thank you Emma," the older man croaked. He released a breath and smiled, because receiving his key meant that Emma had believed him when he'd told her that his wife was absolutely not in the house with him. It meant that the redhead had, hopefully, nominated the secret couple successfully, so that they would face eviction as opposed to Emma and another innocent houseguest. Namely himself.
But now there was only one key left to pull. The key that could change everything.
Quinn, Jacob, and Rachel eyed it, differing agendas bubbling beneath their composed exteriors.
Almost as though things had shifted into slow-motion, Will drew the last key, paused, and then said… "Jacob, you are safe."
As if to take the nomination on the chin, Quinn nodded. As did Rachel.
All eyes found the two women, most curious. Other's incredulous.
Jacob hadn't even bothered to thank the creepy redhead for his key. He wasn't interested in falsities. He wanted to know whether Quinn and Rachel - the two houseguests that Emma had nominated - were actually the secret couple or not, so that he could either sit pretty, knowing that he wasn't going anywhere this week, or fret over whether the true secret couple were going to select him to go up on the block.
Emma cleared her throat upon the silence. "I have nominated both you, Quinn, and you, Rachel," she declared, swallowing hard. "My reason for nominating the two of you lies within the fact that no other two people in this house have the chemistry that you seem to have. I spent quite a bit of time upstairs, this week, watching the two of you on the TV. The way that you interact is flirtatious and easy. That is why I have nominated the two of you as the secret couple."
Having spoken her piece, the redhead stood back from the table and glanced up, as if to prompt Big Brother's cue to step in.
"If it is you two, you had me fooled," Sam whispered across at Rachel and Quinn, whose lips both remained sealed.
"Me too," Tina muttered, suddenly not so sure if she'd spent the day planning a date for two people who were already married, or not. Rachel, after all, had said that she was an actress.
It was all that Santana could do to sit quiet and still. The most that she could do was grin, so she did. She grinned like the Cheshire cat.
"This is Big Brother!"
Emma jumped at the sound of the loud voice, and began to fiddle with the elegant pearls that rested around her neck. She blinked repeatedly, almost like a lost lamb.
"Will one half of the secret couple please stand!"
Brittany sent a subtle nod in her wife's direction, whilst the rest of the houseguests, including Emma, stalked Quinn and Rachel's every breath...
"Will one half of the secret couple please stand!" Big brother repeated.
In one smooth motion, Santana stood up and gave the aghast faces around the table a smug little wave. "Finally. I was getting tired of hiding it. Now where's my wedding ring?" she agonized, yet clearly loving every second of holding everybody within the palm of her hand.
Emma's lips pursed tight, her hand falling away from her pearls to ball taut at her side.
"I knew it!" Puck shrieked, his eyes racing through the air towards Brittany.
"You're married?" Sam asked the latina. "To who?"
Rachel frowned, and deeply, because well... she most definitely had not seen that coming. Santana? One half of the secret couple?
The brunette's heart began to thrum as she instantly grew concerned for Quinn's safety within the house, and if the look in the blonde's exquisite hazel eyes was any indication then she, too, was extremely worried.
"Will the other half of the secret couple please stand!" Big Brother instructed...
In much the same fashion that her wife had, Brittany rose from her seat, a sly little smirk manipulating her expression. "Hey Sanny," she chirped, waving at her wife.
"Hey Britt-Britt," Santana was all to happy to husk.
Jacob gulped. There went the life that he'd planned out for himself and the beautiful lithe blonde, straight out of the window.
Quinn fidgeted in her seat, no more comforted by the second reveal. She hadn't spent much time with Brittany. But going by how passive she seemed, Quinn felt that it was pretty safe to say that Brittany would just go along with whoever Santana wanted to put on the block.
She just really hoped that that person wasn't her. But if her last few interactions with Santana were anything to go by, the blonde knew that she had cause to be freaking out.
"I'm, like, totally blown away right now," a slack-jawed Sam uttered, looking to Puck, who simply waved it off dismissively.
"Dude, I figured it out the day before yesterday. I just didn't say anythin', 'cause I wasn't sure. I got a little explicit with Santana on the first night, and Brittany threatened to beat my ass."
"The Brittany in this house?" Artie asked, unable to imagine the happy-go-lucky dancer threatening anybody.
"Yep," Puck answered.
Beside the three nattering men, Finn shook his head because - he sighed heavily - more fags?
And married fags at that.
If you were to have tossed a concrete medicine ball at Emma, it would have hit her tensed body, and crumbled to dust. She couldn't believe that such fuckery was taking place - couldn't believe that Brittany and Santana, such polar opposites, were the secret married couple.
"I-I can't... I c-can't believe this," she whispered, speaking her first words since the couple's reveal.
"Don't worry your pretty little head, Emma," Santana purred, looking directly at Quinn as she added, "you're not the target."
At the sight of such brazen goading, Rachel had to resist her urge to bring her fist down on the table. She had no idea as to whether her partner in crime would be going up on the block. She wasn't putting anything past the cantankerous latina at this point.
All Rachel knew was that if Quinn went home this week, all responsible parties were going to feel it!
"Santana and Brittany, as you have successfully kept your marriage a secret, Emma will face eviction. It is now your duty to select another houseguest to face eviction. Who have you selected and why?" Big Brother prompted, adding multiple layers to the anxiety that already plagued the space.
"You wanna say it, baby, or should I?" Santana asked, sweet as pie.
"You say it," Brittany happily decided.
Needing to make the most of her power over the other houseguests, the latina pressed both hands flat to the table and leaned in a little, slowly taking her eyes around every face present.
"Santana!" Emma pushed, needing to know what she was up against.
The sadistic caramel-skinned woman clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. "Alright, alright," she conceded. "The houseguest that we have chosen to nominate is Finn."
Like air from a popped balloon, all of the tension rushed from the space. Quinn blew free the mounting breath that she'd been holding, and Emma actually managed a smile.
Rachel bumped fists with Tina, whilst Sam, Puck, and Artie all hi-fived one another.
It was almost like the sun had come out again. Except for in the corner that Finn was occupying.
There the dark cloud remained.
"Why me? I don't deserve it!" he yelled, growing dangerously red in the face - even behind the ears. "I hate you all! Why me?"
Santana cast a menacing glare in the furious man's direction, easing up only when her wife said: "Allow me."
Finn glared at Brittany.
"We chose you because we don't like you, and it's not helping that I heard your thoughts just now. Married fags? Really? I can't wait for you to leave. Yay." Hanging a cutesy little smile on the end of her cheery explanation, the blonde then announced, "the nominations ceremony is adjacent."
"Adjourned, baby," Santana gently corrected, before looking to the other houseguests and declaring, "the nominations ceremony is adjourned!"
Where houseguests were normally known to scatter off to different pockets of the house, following a nominations ceremony, most stayed seated, tossing question after question at Brittany, regarding her marriage.
Emma stuck around if only to try to forge a few bonds with her fellow houseguests, so that they, for sure, wouldn't vote her out of the house tomorrow.
Finn had already stormed off, and now Quinn was getting up to leave.
"Hey doll face?" a smooth silken voice suddenly called from behind.
Santana's voice.
The utterly exhausted hazel-eyed blonde turned around. "What?"
"We good?"
Quinn stood there, considering the olive branch that Santana was extending out to her...
"Are we good?" Santana enunciated, eyes now narrowed.
"For now," left the blonde's lips, before she headed off down the hallway, and disappeared into the cabana room for a long overdue nap.
Night had fallen over the Big Brother house. Not that any of the houseguests were asleep, besides Quinn, that is.
"Go wake her up, dude," Puck encouraged, from where he was stood in the kitchen in a white wife-beater, munching on a sandwich.
Lost in the comfort of the sofa beneath her, Rachel adjusted her head in Tina's lap. "Quinn didn't particularly seem like she was in the best of moods after the nominations ceremony, Puck. Maybe it would be best to allow her to rest," she replied, struggling to get over how cute Quinn had looked, today, in her gray sweats, white shirt, and red bandana.
"You should go and show her a good time - t-take her out of her bad mood," Tina suggested. "That's if she was e-even in a bad mood. She just seemed t-tired to me."
"Maybe," Rachel hummed. But still, she made no move.
"Quit being such a pussy, and wake the Goddess up. Or I will," Puck mumbled around his mouthful.
Artie, who was dozing on the other side of the sofa, chuckled drowsily. "You wanna go make noises outside of the cabana room door and wake her up, Puck?" he proposed, sluggish yet playful.
Rachel immediately sat up, her disapproving glare darting between the two men. "Neither of you will do any such thing! Allow the woman her rest!" she demanded.
"Sounds like that'd be hilarious, bro," Puck answered Artie, all whilst giving Rachel a pointed look.
Tina sniggered.
Beside her, Rachel caught herself sighing. Yes, she wanted to wake Quinn up for their surprise date. But she was being - in Puck's very own words - a pussy.
What if Quinn wasn't in the mood? What if she said… no?
"You won't know unless you try," Tina suddenly whispered, as if reading the brunette's mind.
Just then Brittany fluttered into the room, halting her graceful walk when she spotted Rachel. "Why aren't you on your date?" she asked, her eyebrows veering in towards each other in genuine concern. "I put flowers in a vase and everything."
Rachel rolled her eyes and gave a soft chuckle permission to rock her shoulders. These people had only known her for four days, and yet they seemed to carry enough of an investment in her happiness, to push her when she needed it.
Either that or they were just bored and grateful for something to do.
She recalled how determined she'd been, earlier in the day, to make tonight one of Quinn's fondest, and slipped the determination back on like it was a coat. "Puck, would you extract the bottle of wine from the fridge, and take it out to the garden?" she delegated.
He grinned. "Sure thing."
Rachel stood up from the sofa, and batted the wrinkles out of her Wicked night shirt. "Brittany, would you also take the flower vase out to the garden?"
"Sure."
"I'll prepare the bowls of slop, and add the pineapple and banana jam to it," Tina volunteered, winking the brunette's way.
Rachel smiled, a certain rosiness filling her cheeks. "Thanks guys."
Now she just needed Quinn and a blanket for them to sit down on...
In the cabana room, Quinn suddenly stirred, rolling over and blinking as she became aware of the fact that somebody was politely knocking on the door. She stretched and rubbed some of the heaviness from her right eye. "Uh... come in!" she husked, voice still hoarse.
When Rachel poked her head into the room and lit the air with her twinkling smile, Quinn chuckled, because she'd already known that it was the brunette who'd been knocking. "What are you smiling at?" the blonde croaked.
"Well," Rachel began, momentarily thrown by how beautiful the freshly awoken woman looked, "I have something to... show you. Out in the garden. Would you like to see it?"
Quinn's eyes cleared of their sleepy haze, something distinctly curious and playful seeping into them. She sat up on her elbows and slowly arched an eyebrow. "Hmmm. What is it?"
"Yay or nay, Quinn?" Rachel asked, refusing to give anything away. "You have five seconds to answer. After that, the offer's off the table," she teased.
Quinn's curiosity grew in the form of a smirk, as she began making moves to get up. "What offer? I don't even know what you're talking about."
"You'll see."
"Lead the way then, oh mysterious one," Quinn quipped, following out after the brunette.
I know you hate me right now lmaooo!