Shake22, lmaooo! Your reviews often crack me up! Somebody's definitely going to be leaving ;) Don't worry.
Chloe, aww. What a nice thing to say. I am happy that I could put a smile on your face with the use of these wonderful characters ;)
Original-Badass, I am happy you liked it. As much as you may dislike Jacob, he is looking out for number one, which is what you've got to do in that horribly stressful house ;) I'm picturing you in the house, and I know that you'd be doing the same thing lol!
Beth, Rose McGowan definitely had a certain sex appeal to her. That gorgeous pale skin. Honestly, I would have taken any of the Charmed girls to bed, given half the chance. I'm not picky lol! : )
JackilisFaMo, I love that you enjoyed the breast flashing conversation. I enjoyed writing it : D
EDITED To the guest who asked who Beth's dad was, if you are only continuing to read this to find out who Beth's dad is then I must be doing something wrong as a writer lol. I don't want to reveal who it is just yet. Why do you want to know so badly? You seem almost worried. Who do you think it is?
Thanks for the feedback everyone.
The frenzied scramble for last minute votes was a sight that the Big Brother house had seen many times before.
Only, Jacob wasn't exhibiting any signs of frenzy. He was calm and collected, poised to play his role down to every last blink, as he casually sowed the seeds of deceit...
"We can't tell Sam. He's not going to go for voting Emma out over Finn."
"Man, Rachel's gonna be livid," Puck muttered, sporting a somewhat sullen faraway look.
Artie placed a reassuring hand to the crestfallen man's back. "Neither of us wanna do this. But Jacob's right, big man. If Finn stays, we're all more or less safe next week."
Puck listened to Artie's softly spoken words, repeating them in his head. Given that he was thirty-years-old with nothing to show for it, he knew what he was going to have to do tonight.
He knew what he was going to have to do to secure himself another week within the house.
"It's just - Rachel's like the heart of the house, dude," he sighed, tapping his fingertips on the bedside cabinet in what was a physical manifestation of his unsettled mind. "When she blows, we're all gonna have to wipe the residue from our cheeks."
Artie threw himself down on a nearby bed, and mumbled, "I know."
It was all that Jacob could do to stop himself from rolling his eyes, because seriously, what was this? A scene out of The Green Mile or something?
"I planted the seed in Tina's head last night," he spoke up. "I'm pretty sure that she's going to vote Emma out. So that's Tina, me, you Puck, you Artie, and... now we just need to get Will to vote our way too, which would yield a vote of five to three, in our favor."
"What's to say that Britt and Santana aren't voting tonight?" Artie theorized. "We haven't accounted for their vote."
Jacob chuckled, like a father chuckling at something stupid that his young son had said, due to a lack of life experience. "The HOH never gets to vote, unless it's to break a tie."
"But," Artie drawled, not to fond of the shorter man's condescending tone, "Brittany and Santana aren't the HOH. Emma is."
"In case you haven't noticed, Emma's up on the block. Santana and Brittany essentially put her there, along with Finn. They might not be sleeping up in the HOH room, but they were the true Head Of Households this week. Big Brother isn't going to have them vote, unless it's to settle a tiebreak."
"I'm out. Need somethin' to drink," Puck suddenly announced.
When he left the bedroom and found that Rachel wasn't around, his shoulders sagged with relief.
He didn't want to have to smile in her face, whilst knowing that he was about to screw her over.
Up in the HOH room, the girls had convened to offer Emma some reassurance regarding the looming eviction.
Tina was sat in the armchair in the far corner, her eyes hazed over as the surrounding conversations phased in and out of her awareness.
"What do you think, Tina?"
The quiet woman blinked and looked up. "W-What?"
Santana cocked a suspicious eyebrow. "Why are you so damn quiet all the time?" she asked, instead of filling Tina in on all that she'd apparently missed.
From where she was snuggled on the vast bed, between Quinn and Brittany, Rachel reached over and squeezed the latina's arm. "Leave her alone!" she warned.
"Or what? You'll get your preppy girlfriend over there to kick my ass?"
"Fuck you, Santana," Quinn mumbled, much too relaxed to put any hostility, bass, or volume into it.
Santana flashed the pristine rock that gleamed on her ring finger. "I'd love to, doll face. But I'm married."
"How will I ever go on, knowing that I've missed my chance?" Quinn quipped, the boredom in her tone overridden only by the copious amounts of sarcasm.
"I don't know, doll face. I guess you're just gonna have to make do with Rachel."
"And I guess that poor Brittany's just gonna have to make do with you."
"Excuse you, bitch?"
Not too fond of what she was hearing, Rachel huffed. "Santana! I do not appreciate -"
"Settle down and act like ladies!" Emma stepped in.
Suddenly the other women in the room all fell quiet, like they were back at school being dictated to by a teacher.
All except for Brittany, that is, who shrugged. "Don't listen to Sanny, guys. She's just cranky because I wouldn't let her go down on me in the bathroom last night."
Emma's eyes popped with horror.
Rachel's features seized somewhere in-between her disgruntled frown and a smirk.
Tina chuckled, despite her heavy mood.
And Quinn fizzled into a deep cackle that rocked the bed and saw her creamy throat exposed.
Rachel stared at it, memorizing every glorious muscular twitch.
Beside them, Santana rolled her eyes. "It's not like you guys can blame me. I have the most beautiful wife in the fucking universe, and there are no cameras in the bathroom. Any one of you would've done the same thing." She shrugged, shameless.
Brittany smiled and pecked her wife's cheek, before chirping, "by the way, Quinn, I'm not making do. Sanny's the one for me. Just like Rachel's the one for you."
As those words lingered awkwardly in the air, Rachel tensed and peered sheepish eyes up at Quinn, who was... already watching her with deep twinkling amusement.
The brunette cracked a grin and nudged the blonde, though she was blushing like a mother fucker. "I hate you," she quietly whined.
"I know. You make it so clear in the way that you're always complimenting me," Quinn chimed.
Rachel adjusted the position of her head, resting it on the blonde's shoulder at a better angle. "You're awfully sarcastic today," she whispered.
"Must be the company that I keep."
"You also look really nice today," Rachel said, swatting the air of playfulness dead.
"Thank you. I thought I'd make an effort, just in case you had any more excursions planned." Quinn winked.
"Don't flatter yourself. I'm not that fond of you."
"Rachel."
"Hmm?"
"You look really nice today too."
"Seriously, it's almost like watching a really bad girl-meets-girl rom-com with you two," Santana sniped.
"Brittany," Rachel cheerily began, "would you kindly take your wife into the bathroom and allow her to do whatever it is that she needs to do, so that the rest of us may enjoy peaceful lives?"
"No comment," Brittany replied, smirking.
Horrified by the topic of conversation, Emma quickly cleared her throat. "Getting back to more... pressing matters," she stressed, "do I have all of your votes?"
"Everybody h-hates Finn," Tina said. "He's going tonight."
"She's right, Emma. You've got nothing to worry about," Quinn agreed. "I can't think of one person who'll vote to evict you over Finn. He's toast."
Santana rolled her eyes. "Jesus, Emma. We need to stick together, which means that you've got our support. How many times do you need to hear us say it?"
Emma pinned her with a severe look. "Until I start to believe it," she replied, snappish.
"Well believe that there's an all guy alliance in the house. If we lose you tonight, we're gonna be a woman down, and none of us want that."
Brittany nodded. "Amen to that."
Rachel and Tina, along with Emma, frowned, confusion etching their foreheads.
"An all male alliance?" Rachel repeated. She lifted her head from Quinn's shoulder, and sat up.
"Yeah, I told doll face over there to fill you in."
Rachel looked to Quinn. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"I didn't think that - wait, are you mad at me?" the blonde asked, kind of amused by the notion that the theatrical little woman was mad at her.
"I'm far from angry. I'd just like to know why you wouldn't say anything when Santana specifically expressed that she'd like for you to fill me in."
Quinn wasn't stupid. She knew that tone. It was the same tone that her last boyfriend would fall victim to when paranoid that she'd been out cheating, as opposed to at work.
Only, Rachel wasn't paranoid because she suspected an infidelity of the romantic sense. She was paranoid because she suspected an infidel breach of their two-person alliance.
"I think I'm gonna go get dinner started," the blonde announced, shuffling off of the bed and ushering out of the room.
It took Rachel half a second to run out after her.
"Someone's sleepin' on the couch tonight," Brittany commented, as she leaned over to grab the bag of chips from Emma's snack basket...
"I'm afraid of you, Quinn," Rachel suddenly confessed.
They'd made it into the kitchen area, where the blonde had begun to search the cupboards for ingredients.
But now she wasn't looking for anything. She was leaned up against the fridge, wondering why Rachel looked so terrified. "Why are you afraid of me?" she asked softly.
The brunette sighed and cupped her face for a few moments.
"Rachel..."
"Quinn, I really really like you, and I guess I just didn't like thinking that -"
"I was somehow in with the all guy alliance, didn't want to further blow their cover, and that's why I didn't say anything to you?" Quinn finished for her.
Rachel's silence spoke volumes.
"Stop worrying. I'm with you in this house. I haven't made any deals with anyone behind your back. I hope you haven't either."
"I-I... haven't," Rachel said, peering at her own hands.
Quinn nodded, sighing. "I didn't say anything about the all male alliance because I don't trust Santana, and I wanted to find out if it was true first. That's all."
The brunette gave a somewhat chastised nod, and then said, "Is it perverted that a part of me likes this stern side of you?"
Quinn was powerless to stop her chuckle. "I wasn't being stern. But if you say so... pervert," she teased, popping the P.
Rachel smiled, sensing that order was restoring itself.
That didn't, however, mean that she wasn't going to help speed it up a little with some honesty. "I'm afraid of you, because after our date last night, I've allowed myself to believe that there could be something special between us. When I considered that you were perhaps planning to betray me, I wasn't even afraid for my game. I was afraid for my feelings, and that's not how it's supposed to be in here."
"I know," Quinn murmured.
And she did know, because the thought of the sensitive brunette twisting a knife into her back, and scheming behind closed doors, bothered her feelings too.
"Welcome to the paranoia that is the Big Brother game," she declared, chuckling gently. "I do believe that we've found ourselves in quite the predicament. But we're human. We want Finn gone because our feelings tell us that we don't like him. Not because he's any sort of threat to us in the game; he honestly doesn't even seem like he can even tie his own shoelaces."
Rachel snorted, and Quinn pattered towards her.
"Emotions are going to play a major part in here, no matter which way you try to spin it. This game is designed to fuck with us. We're... just gonna have to deal with that," the blonde added, poking the brunette in the rib. "As long as we communicate well, we should be okay."
Rachel swatted the playful finger away. "No poking. You may hit a sensitive spot."
"All of you is sensitive. I don't know how you ever thought you'd come in here and be the stoic ice queen. The way that you seem to deal with emotion is a large part of what makes you so intriguing."
Rachel smiled. But what she didn't say was that her fathers were up to their eyeballs in medical bills, and that the stress of it all was starting to take a toll on their health, and that that was why she'd somehow imagined that she'd be able to enter the house and play the stoic ice queen, in order to win the half a million dollars whilst encountering as little complication as possible.
But it now seemed as though that ship had sailed...
Despite its slow and insidious infiltration of some of the other houseguests, the notorious Big Brother paranoia hadn't yet touched Sam. He was in a jovial kind of mood, because by tomorrow morning, not only would he have survived the first week. But Finn would also be gone.
It was smiles all around.
The surfer was bouncing down the hallway, when he halted at the sight of a door that...previously hadn't been there.
He chuckled because there was, like, no way that the Big Brother game had already sent him crazy. Not just five days in.
The sunflower yellow door peered at him as he took his eyes down its panels. "Hmm," Sam hummed, cranking the handle, only to find that it was locked.
He took a small step back, and swiftly noticed that there was an obscure mathematical equation scrawled onto the yellow wood, in the upper right corner. Beside it was an equals symbol, and beside that was a small digital touch-pad panel, where Sam presumed that the answer to the equation could be submitted.
"F times P," he whispered, his mind ticking over.
But to no avail...
"Jacob!" he called, maybe once or twice.
After the third bellow of his name, Jacob - who'd settled down with Will to convince him that, like everyone else in life, Finn deserved a second chance – rushed off in search of Sam's voice.
"Where are you?"
"Hallway, bro!"
Initially, Jacob's eyes widened at the sight of the stark yellow door. Then he frowned and pressed his palm to the wall, feeling for anything that would explain how Big Brother had knocked the previous wall out and replaced it so swiftly. "This wasn't here yesterday… was it?"
"Nope," Sam replied. "There's a math equation up there too. See?"
Jacob nodded. "Indeed."
The nerdy little man had seen tasks such as this before, on previous seasons of the show…
"The equation says F times P," Sam offered, ruffling his hair at the back. "Dude, what could F and P be?"
"Well it's obvious. There's something in the house that begins with F, and there's something in the house that begins with P. We have to count how many there are of each object and multiply them together for the answer."
Sam wound his arm around the little man's shoulders in appreciation. "You are, like, so smart! I never would have thought of that."
Jacob smiled, rubbing his chin curiously. "The F could stand for forks," he theorized.
"No way. I'll go count all of the forks."
"Or," Jacob said, "it could represent the number of fishes in the aquarium that's built into the wall."
"It could be," Sam chirped, just grateful for the adventure and mystery of it all. "You go count the fishes, and I'll go count the forks. Then we'll try to figure out what the P represents."
Three sets of five forks laid out on the kitchen counter later, Sam was growing seriously excited. It was almost as though he was playing one of those room escape games on his tablet, but instead of trying to escape, the goal was to get in.
"You seem to be enjoying yourself there," Quinn observed, as she shut the oven door and shuffled towards the sink. "But I'm gonna need that counter space soon, so…"
Sam nodded. "Sure."
"What are you doing anyway?"
Sam grinned, glancing back at the woman. "There's a new room in the house. I found it earlier, but it's locked."
Quinn's eyebrows gravitated towards her hairline. "A new room? Seriously? Where?"
"In the hallway next to the cabana room, where it used to just be a bare wall. There's a math equation locking it; F multiplied by P. So I'm counting the forks, just in case they amount to one of the numbers that we need to multiply by P." He frowned and scratched his head. "Haven't figured out what the P represents though."
Quinn chuckled, because the man's child-like spirit was nice to watch. "There are more forks in the dishwasher. Don't forget to count them too."
Sam's lips eased into a soft smile, and then he winked at the beautiful woman, who was actually nowhere near as intimidating as he'd made her out to be in his head, thanks to how gorgeous she was. "Thanks for the tip Quinn."
Finding that the intrigue had also seeped into her psyche, the hazel-eyed blonde took her probing gaze around the kitchen, and the open living area. Then it struck her, just as her eyes settled upon the memory wall. "Maybe," she drawled, "P represents the pictures on the memory wall. There are twelve, because there are twelve houseguests."
Sam ceased his counting, mouth agape. "Oh my God! I think you're, like, right!"
Quinn merely winked at the young man, and went on about preparing dinner.
Some fifteen minutes later, news of the locked room had spread throughout the house, and Sam had gotten his number. He'd even checked all of the rooms for dirty dishes that may not have yet been returned to the kitchen.
There were a total of thirty forks in the house.
All houseguests, excluding Finn, Will, Emma, and Tina, had gathered in the narrow hallway, watching as Sam and Jacob poised themselves to punch in the product of thirty multiplied by twelve.
"The answer's three-hundred-and-sixty," Artie offered, when Sam and Jacob began to putter over what the equation's answer was.
Somewhere near the back of the crowd, Brittany whispered, "I'm scared," into her wife's ear. "What if there's something bad on the other side of the door?"
"Why do you think I haven't said anything other than, 'don't open it,' baby? Big Brother's a twisted mother fucker. There's definitely somethin' bad behind that door."
"You think so?" Puck asked, having overheard their conversation.
"I don't know, guys. I think it'll be something fun," Quinn said, smiling amusement as she shrugged and bumped her shoulder into Rachel's. "What do you think, silent one?"
"Well… I have no idea what to think."
"That's a first," Quinn quipped, receiving a playfully reproachful nudge to the side. She lifted her arm and wound it around the petite brunette's shoulders, pulling her in close. "We're going to need the bodily contact for support, just in case a monster jumps out at us."
"Any excuse to get your hands on me," Rachel teased, grinning up at the blonde.
"Hmm. No comment."
"Three-hundred-and-sixty's the wrong answer. The door's still locked," Sam suddenly announced, glum and disappointed.
"Hold on a sec – we haven't tried the number of fishes. There are eight. So let's do eight multiplied by twelve, and see what happens," Jacob suggested.
Now eight multiplied by twelve was a sum that Sam knew the answer to. He reached up and punched nine and six into the digital touch-pad.
And just like that the door clicked…
There was a collective gasp of excitement, mixed in with something distinctly cautious.
"Open the door then, dude!" Puck pushed, unable to contain his curiosity.
Sam cranked the door handle down, and pushed.
What greeted the houseguests was a moderately sized room, which was laid with Flixi-Hard flooring and all of the workout equipment that a gym enthusiast could dream of.
"Score!" Sam cheered, as he bounced right into the room and sat down on the ab crunch machine.
"Well what do you know, Rachel? Now you'll get to watch Quinn sweat," Santana jibed, sniggering to herself.
Rachel blushed, because she certainly was not opposed to seeing Quinn sweat. "Look, they even have Yoga balls," she chirped, deciding to ignore the antagonistic latina's comment, just like Quinn seemed to be.
In fact, Quinn had followed into the new gym straight after Sam, a look of excitement dancing in her features.
Puck gently pushed his way through everybody, and also entered the room. He looked around, surveying each gadget. "Hell yeah! Now the Puckasaurus can work on his guns!"
As they watched from the doorway, Jacob and Artie were not all that excited. Mostly because they were not the biggest gym bunnies. Chess and technological gadgets were more their thing.
But whatever. At least now they could work out if the mood ever struck.
"Hey, what's this?" Quinn asked, picking up the white card that lay on the treadmill's feedback panel.
All fell silent.
The hazel-eyed blonde turned the card over in her hands... which read:
Enjoy your gym equipment, for it is bittersweet.
You know not what you've unleashed.
Following the reveal of the first evictee,
two new houseguests will receive a key.
Hmmmmm. Eviction up next! ;)