.
The city is freezin' but you're all mine
.
When Santana gets home at around 2:30am on Christmas Day, she doesn't go to sleep. She probably couldn't even if she tried. Instead, she tries to find something to watch on Netflix. It's frustrating, because all the movies she can think of that she considers Christmas classics are not available for streaming, so she ends up clicking kind of randomly on a show called Twin Peaks(because, naturally, the name makes her smirk), which is…
She gets drawn in immediately by the terrifyingly creepy atmosphere and the utter bizarreness of what's happening. She's about four episodes in, completely compelled and almost shaking with adrenaline when she realizes she should be on Skype to talk to her parents.
She signs onto Skype and waits, frowning, until her cell phone rings.
Fifteen minutes later, she's managed to talk her parents through the process of actually calling her on Skype, which, yeah, they probably should have ironed out earlier, but then they're sitting there smiling at each other.
And it's nice, she guesses, being able to see her parents; her father, quiet as usual, giving her a warm and loving smile, and her mother, beaming to cover her sadness. They open gifts—Santana gets things like warm socks and a warm hat (which is funny, because it's not like Ohio has completely benign winters, and her parents are acting like she's moved to the arctic or something), piles of cosmetic and toiletry supplies, and even a few fun things, like an Amy Winehouse record (her parents know about her birthday present from Rachel) and a Nook, which is…a surprise, but a nice one. She should probably read more, she thinks. She watches way too much TV.
She's happy to talk to her parents, but it's getting late, almost 8, and she's getting tired. Eventually, her mother says they have to go because they need to get ready to go to Mass; her family always goes on Christmas and Easter. Those are the only days her father goes, and Santana has more or less ended up following his lead (except for here, where she'd decided it's not worth the effort or exhaustion to go out and find a church to attend for a day). Her mother attends Mass a lot more frequently.
After she signs off with her parents, she gets ready for bed and calls Brittany as she's sinking down into her blankets.
"Merry Christmas, sweetie," Brittany answers her phone.
"Merry Christmas, Britt. I'm getting ready to get some sleep. When does your flight come in?"
"Around six," Brittany responds. "Can…" she hesitates, "Can you meet me at the airport? I don't remember how to ride the subway and I don't want to get lost trying to find your apartment."
"Sure thing," Santana nods, "I was planning on it anyway. It definitely takes some getting used to." She rides so infrequently that it wasn't until probably late October that she could ride by herself without constantly verifying she was going the right way, or constantly checking the maps. For a girl from a small city with an unimpressive bus system that she'd really never used, New York City's winding, branching rivers of rails and tributaries of bus lines are fairly overwhelming. This isn't Brittany needing her help because she's inept, it is Brittany being smart and reasonable about her ability to navigate through a confusing system in an unfamiliar place.
They exchange professions of love and Santana settles down to get some sleep. She reflects that it really won't feel like Christmas until she wakes back up—even if she's already opened her presents.
By the time she wakes back up and makes it to the airport to meet Brittany, she's finally excited. She can't explain how, because as far as she can tell, the city looks basically the same, and people riding the public transportation seem the same—hurried, focused—but it just feels like Christmas. Maybe it's the crisp bite in the air, the way the city lights seem softer, warmer, the way wreaths and holly hang on light posts or on doors all over—even her fairly brief walk to the subway through her not-especially nice neighborhood is uncharacteristically cheery.
Brittany calls as soon as she gets off the plane, and follows the signs to the baggage claim area where Santana waits. Santana stays on until she sees her and then they're flinging their arms around each other and, unable to help it, kissing. It's not obscene, just a few simple lip locks, and as she pulls away, she can't bring herself to care if anyone is watching. Though a glance around seems to show that no one is.
She can't stop staring at Brittany as they wait for her rolling luggage to come through baggage claim, and Brittany seems hardly able to look away, herself. She's taking in the slope of her neck, while Brittany seems to be staring at her lips, and they almost miss Brittany's bag the first time it rotates around, but Santana spots it and hipchecks a grandmother out of the way to grab it. The grandma glares, but whatever, because she's beaming when she brings it back to Brittany. "Ready, babe?"
"Sure," Brittany nods, and slides back on her dark blue coat, unnecessary on the plane and in the airport, pulling out a yellow beanie to shove over her blonde hair and pink mittens. Santana smiles and carries her luggage for her, leading her back to the bus that will take them to the subway.
Brittany is grinning by the time they step off the subway and into Santana's neighborhood. "I forgot how cool the subway is. It's like an underground roller coaster, but really slow and no one screams." Santana remembers the first time they'd rode it, on the Junior year trip for Nationals, and how some of the kids had stumbled as the train started and stopped, but not Brittany. Her dance training and natural grace had allowed her to completely unconsciously shift her weight so that she'd never stumble. If she had enough room, she'd perhaps twirl around a pole a little so that she'd be dancing as she shifted her weight. This time, they'd been lucky to find seats on their train cars—perhaps imbued with the Christmas spirit, people seemed to notice Santana carrying a big bag and would offer her their seats, and Brittany, too, once they realized she was with her. It was shocking, for a city not particularly known for its friendliness.
Santana keeps her wary eyes alert as they walk to her apartment. She's wearing clothes that make her feel a little bit tough—jeans and a t-shirt, leather jacket, Reds baseball cap that she's had since she went through a baseball phase at around age ten, and nice hiking boots her parents got her for her birthday (she'd requested them because wearing sneakers in the freezer at work made her feet excruciatingly cold). She tries to walk with confidence—it's a façade she's practiced since she, Rachel and Kurt started agreeing to escort each other through the neighborhood as often as possible. Since she sometimes needs to walk by herself to meet one or both of them, she tries as hard as she can to look like someone that no one should mess with. Even if it wouldn't actually put anyone off—a woman of perfectly average height (she's not short, damn it), walking alone at night is always a target—it helps with her own peace of mind, and right now, it helps her feel like she's keeping Brittany safe.
Brittany seems to notice the change in her body language and sobers some, talking less, but her bright eyes are taking in the surroundings, brightening as they notice signs of Christmas cheer, the same way Santana had earlier in the evening. As they get into the apartment building, Santana feels the tension leave her frame, and Brittany smiles brightly at her, and when they walk into the apartment itself, Brittany's smile gets wider.
"This is so cool," she gushes, "It looks so much bigger when it's not on my Skype screen."
She gets a brief tour, and Brittany looks at the space between her bed and Rachel's with mild interest, until Santana rolls her eyes, "We're only ever in the same room for like an hour in the mornings."
"It's still kinda funny," Brittany says, "cause you're hot and sleeping so close. Do you wake each other up?"
"Surprisingly, no," Santana answers, "Her alarm woke me up for the first couple weeks if she actually slept past when I got in bed, but I don't even hear it anymore, and the first couple times I'd come in to go to bed, she'd wake up a little, but now she sleeps right through it. Generally. Every once in awhile one of us will wake each other up, but we're both good at turning over and going back to sleep or whatever. It's worked out better than I could have imagined."
"That's cool," Brittany nods, "I'm glad you guys can share, because I know it's good Kurt's here, too."
"Come on," Santana touches her elbow gently, "Let's see which Chinese places are delivering tonight."
They place their order and Santana turns on Mariah Carey's Christmas album and then reaches over to pull Brittany to her as she leans back to recline on the couch. Brittany hums and nuzzles her neck, pressing little kisses occasionally, but it's not a sexy moment, really—maybe because the day was so long for Brittany, and strangely emotional for Santana, and that they're both so hungry, but this just feels nicer right now. She noses Brittany's hair, enjoying the vaguely floral scent of her shampoo, and plants little kisses on her part.
"What do you want to do in New York?" she asks. She does have to work while Brittany is visiting, but at the moment, she feels capable of neglecting some sleep in order to spend time out in the city with Britt.
"Hmm," Brittany hums, "Ooh, wait, is this the city with that duck pond? The one in the book?"
It takes Santana a second to figure out what she means, because she thinks about when she had to read Catcher in the Rye for school (which she'd kind of hated, because that guy was such a moper), but then she remembers Brittany never read that. And the book she does mean comes to mind, and Santana smiles, "No, baby, I think that's Boston. But there are nice ponds here, too, though I don't think the ducks stick around when they're frozen." But she feels warm, thinking about that book—one that they bonded over as kids, Make Way for Ducklings. She hadn't really forgotten about it, but it's things like this, the things Brittany remembers, that makes her swell with love. Brittany probably remembers every facet of their friendship and relationship. Brittany could probably tell her the exact date of when they first kissed, even though they were like 11, and Santana's there to help keep the other facts straight—the mundane ones, like where that duck pond is located.
In a way, she's convinced that there's nothing in the world they don't know. They just have to put their heads together.
"Oh yeah," Brittany murmurs, nuzzling closer, "We can do whatever you like. The city is supposed to be really pretty around Christmas."
She smiles, and it's true. It's almost like she forgets she lives here, because she so rarely feels like she has to the time to go out and enjoy the city. But what she really wants is to get things right for Brittany's birthday. She barely has time to prepare, finding out as late as she did that Brittany was coming, but she'd badgered her coworker Derek, a friendly guy in his mid-twenties who had never, ever perved on her, until he'd agreed to take her shift the night of Brittany's birthday.
But if it's left all in her hands, she can't be sure it will be awesome. Although, who is she kidding. With her and Brittany, anything is fun.
She's worrying for no reason when she should be focusing on the amazing fact that Brittany is here, with her. So she tilts her lover's face up for a languid kiss and holds her close, enjoying the warmth as they wait for dinner.
.
And you're a devil meaning well
.
Evidently, it had happened something like this.
It's two days after Christmas and she's standing shivering in her grandmother's backyard so she can even hear him (her daddy has a big family, and Christmas is when they can all get together), and she pieces it together from Puck's excited voice on the phone—it's almost childish, really, the way he's speaking. He'd been on the phone with Sam and they'd been discussing New Year's plans. The pizza shop Sam worked for is closed on New Year's Day, so he'd taken a few days off to have some fun with Mercedes, and Puck was sure he could call Billy or Malcolm if he needed some time off himself (Billy had informed him that January was usually a slow month for restaurants because people needed time to earn a buffer of money after Christmas, so they all might experience some lost hours anyway). One of them had suggested a little road trip or something, which had led to the idea of New York and the realization that they knew people in New York.
"So we were gonna invite the Glee kids to spend New Year's in New York! I mean, I know your apartment isn't huge, but Sam thinks Mercedes's dad might be willing to pay for a hotel for a couple nights so we can visit. What do you say, my hot Jew bro? Can we crash your New Year's plans?"
Rachel chuckles a little, "I don't know that we have specific plans! I will have to ask Kurt and Santana. I know that I am not working for New Year's, however. I had already intended to try to do something in the city with Quinn and requested time off accordingly."
"Well, do you want me to call Kurt or Santana to ask them?"
"No, I will be happy to handle it. I will call you back soon, Noah."
Santana doesn't answer her phone at first, but Kurt does, and seems excited by the idea. Blaine says he'd love to come up with them. Kurt says he works on New Year's Eve, but not New Year's Day, so he's up for some fun.
Santana calls back as she's finishing up talking to Kurt, "Hey," she breathes into the phone, her voice soft, relaxed.
Rachel frowns, "Are you okay?"
Santana chuckles lightly, "Oh, yeah," she purrs, and there are a few giggles in the background. Rachel feels her face heat up.
"Oh my God," Rachel groans, "Santana! Tell me you are not calling mid-coitus!"
Santana's voice hardens instantly, "Are you joking? You think I want you listening in on that?! Damn, Berry, can't a girl just feel good?" Rachel can hear the smirk as she finishing speaking.
She takes a breath, "Okay. I apologize for assuming something so vulgar, Santana. I have a proposition for you."
Santana snorts loudly at the double entendre and Rachel knows she's blushing again. She ignores this, however, and powers through Puck's suggestion of New Year's plans. Santana shrugs, "I'm lucky enough to have New Year's Eve off. Let's do this shit!"
Rachel claps happily, her phone almost sliding off her shoulder at the excited display, "Excellent! I shall call Noah and make some plans!"
Puck sounds just as childishly excited as she tells him she thinks they could all celebrate together, and he babbles about how he and Sam will take care of calling their friends, and how he can ask Kurt if Burt has a van or something he can loan them—the auto shop frequently fixes up cars to sell—and Rachel laughs and thanks him.
She calls Quinn next, and she answers, sounding a little…off. Rachel frowns, but when Quinn assures her she just a little tired, she launches into an explanation of their potential New Year's plans.
Quinn's quiet for a moment, and Rachel asks, "You're still going to be in New York for New Year's, right?"
"Oh. Right," Quinn breathes, and she sounds…still off. Distracted, or disappointed, or something. Rachel wishes she could see Quinn's face, because sometimes, even though she can't always read everything in her expressive eyes, sometimes they seem to say so much. "Yeah, that's still the plan."
"Okay," Rachel drawls, a little uncertain, "Is…is this okay that everyone is coming to town?"
"Of course," Quinn assures, sounding much more like herself now, "I'm sorry. I'm just…when are you coming back to Lima? I'm going crazy here with just my mom. I mean, I'm supposed to hang out with Kurt and Blaine a bit tomorrow, and I went to Puck's restaurant today to see him a little bit, but…" she trails off, and Rachel catches a little hiccup of air that makes it seem like she cut herself off from saying more.
Rachel smiles a little bit, "I know. That's why I'm so glad we have this opportunity to celebrate New Year's together. Christmas is just such a family heavy holiday, it sounds like barely anyone is in Lima right now. But I think we're heading home tomorrow. I'll call you, and we'll do something, okay?"
"Sure. Thanks. And looking forward to New Year's in New York. It sounds great!" Her enthusiasm sounds forced, Rachel realizes, but…Quinn's probably a little down, being lonely and tired at the moment, so…that must be it.
It's one of those moments, though, that forces her to acknowledge that something strange happened between her and Quinn, at around the time Finn started writing to her. Quinn…withdrew. Rachel suspects it's because she hadn't told Quinn about the correspondences. And Rachel knows Quinn would probably be disappointed in her, for being so weak, for considering all the ways she could abandon her future to be with that man, that boy she had loved. When Quinn had been the one to consistently push her to leave him behind…of course she would be ashamed of her. She hadn't wanted to confide her weakness in Quinn.
There's also the little part of her that doesn't quite believe what Quinn said about never really loving Finn. Why would she date him twice? Why would she fight against Rachel so strongly for him? Why would she refuse to allow Rachel to marry him, with her desperate eyes and tears in her voice? Even Santana's suggestion that dating Finn had been more about reputation for the both of them hadn't quite quelled Rachel's doubt. This is yet another reason why she hadn't wanted to tell Quinn about Finn pursuing her again—why drive the knife back in when they had been both finally happy to be friends together, without him coming between them? And now…she hasn't even really told Quinn what had happened with her phone call with Finn, about the fact that she was pretty sure he knew they were over now, too. Why give Quinn ideas about Finn's single status? Rachel's positive Quinn wouldn't leave Yale for Finn, but maybe she'd have the stomach Rachel lacks for a long-distance relationship with the boy who finally seems to be growing up a little. After all, for Quinn, New Haven isn't her forever, unlike New York for Rachel.
Maybe. The pieces don't quite fit, but they're all Rachel can come up with. And thinking about Quinn and Finn together…that hurts. And not in the old-wound, loser-girl-envying-the-head-cheerleader kind of way she knows so well, but it's a new hurt. Like somehow, she'll lose what she and Quinn have if Finn comes back.
And that makes her ache more than anything.
.
You'd make a fine shrine in me
.
Rachel, Quinn and Kurt fly back to New York on the 30th. It's kind of a relief. Lima's almost too quiet for her now, and though it's always lovely to spend time with her dads and her daddy's family, her apartment feels like home. Just like during Thanksgiving, trying to sleep in her still mostly-soundproofed (naturally, soundproof insulation degrades over time) childhood bedroom had been strangely unsettling the first night. Utterly silent, without traffic noise being vaguely drowned out by an air conditioner or Santana's fan. The traffic sounds had turned into a kind of white noise on their own soon after she moved to the city, and she didn't realize they'd taken such a residence in her mind that their absence feels wrong.
They're to be joined that evening by Puck, Sam, Mercedes and Blaine. Artie is, unfortunately, still out of town visiting relatives (to be fair, they're in Iowa, so his family tends to stay as long as possible to make the most of the travel time and expenses), Mike's mother made him a doctor's appointment on New Year's Day, so he has to stay, and Tina had decided to stay and celebrate New Year's with Mike. Puck and Sam had decided not to invite any of the more recent New Directions members, because it was sort of a relief that they could just take Sam's car rather than having to organize a way to borrow a mini-van from anyone.
When she, Kurt and Quinn tumble into the apartment in a pile of heavy coats and luggage, breathing in relief at the warmth, they find Santana and Brittany huddled together on the couch watching Buffy. They're only on Season 1, so Santana's clearly trying to get Brittany as hooked as the rest of them, but they politely pause so that they can greet the travelers.
Brittany drapes herself over each of them in graceful, delighted hugs, while Santana gives everyone a brief squeeze with one arm. "I'm so stoked you guys are back!" Brittany chirps, "I mean, I'm sad there's no more sexy time with Santana, but I can't wait to celebrate New Year's with all of you!"
Kurt suppresses a shudder, and Santana smirks and doesn't even look bashful. "Yeah, I'm excited, too," she admits, "When are the others arriving?"
Kurt pulls out his phone, "Last I heard from Blaine, their ETA is 10pm. It sounds like they're having a great time together, though. He keeps sending me pictures of the creepy gas stations they stop at or weird road signs or whatever, or sending me cute things that Sam and Mercedes are saying to each other." He chuckles, "And Mercedes keeps sending me quotes of the lewd or stupid things Puck says. I'm glad they're having fun and that it's not snowing."
Santana nods, "Well, I'll be at work by then, but tell them I can't wait to hang out tomorrow." Her face darkens a bit as she speaks.
"How was your birthday, B?" Quinn asks, purposely changing the subject.
"Oh, it was so good. San took me out for Italian and then we went to look at the giant Christmas tree! We were gonna take a walk in the center park, but it was so cold we decided to just come back here and warm back up with sex."
This time, Santana does look bashful, but, possibly because Brittany is right there, looking so at her so lovingly, no one even mock-leers at her. Quinn just smoothes things over by pointing to the TV, "Are you just starting Buffy?"
Brittany nods, "Yeah. San got me an L Word box set for my Christmas and birthday present. She made me pack it up in my suitcase and open it here. We tried to watch it, but San just gripes about all the characters. I think it's hot, though. But I like Buffy, too, so far. I always thought there were probably secret warrior teenage girls—like you, Q—and I'm glad to know I'm right. Plus Giles is hot."
At this Santana looks horrified, Rachel surprised, and Quinn unsuccessfully stifles giggles. Kurt trembles with suppressed laughter for just a moment before affirming, "He does have a sort of gentlemanly appeal to him, doesn't he?"
"Totally," Brittany agrees, "You guys want to watch with us?"
"That sounds like the perfect way to unwind after travel to me," Rachel smiles, "I'll join you after I unpack." Brittany grins back at her. Despite hanging out a lot during the summer, Brittany still baffles Rachel somewhat. She likes her—it's hard not to, especially with the fact that she was one of the first cheerleaders to stop being rude to her—but she just hasn't quite figured out whether to worry about Brittany's sanity or just accept that she's imaginative.
Kurt and Quinn seem to think unpacking is a good idea as well, because Kurt heads to his room and Quinn follows Rachel into hers. Not that Quinn has much to unpack; she just kind of tucks her luggage next to Rachel's bed and half-settles onto Santana's bed before springing up, unnerved, and settling on the end of Rachel's to watch her unpack. Rachel had washed her clothes at her parents' house—it was hard to beat not having to find just the right time to get an empty machine in her building—so she extracts clothes, refolds them and puts them away. Quinn just smiles contentedly before slowly sliding back to recline, groaning a little.
"Planes are hell," she grunts, staring at the ceiling, "I hate not having leg room. I get so cramped." She slides a hand beneath her body to rub at her lower back.
"It is rather annoying. And before you make a joke about my height, I am tall enough for it to also be uncomfortable for me."
Quinn smirks, "It's your inhumanly long legs. I wouldn't dare mock you."
Rachel feels heat on her face, but she's not even sure why. She's not mad or upset, she's just…warm. Almost everyone she knows has commented on her legs, but it's different when it's Quinn. Her heart thrums once, and she briefly wonders what it would be like if Quinn had said something slightly different, slightly more…appreciative. If she's honest, in high school she always sort of wanted pretty girls like Quinn to reassure her that she was just as attractive, in her own way.
She unfolds and smoothes out a blouse and walks it over to the closet to hang up, watching Quinn from the corner of her eye. The girl is relaxed, lying kind of diagonally on the bed so her face is just next to Rachel's luggage but her calves are dangling off the side of the bed. Her eyes are closed and she just looks so relaxed.
She's so unfairly gorgeous.
Quinn opens her eyes and turns to look at her, lips quirking in a half-smile, and Rachel just beams and walks back to her luggage. She unpacks the rest as quick as she can and then shoves her rolling luggage back under her bed. She holds out both hands to Quinn, smiling, and Quinn takes them and allows herself to be pulled to her feet, groaning a little in protest. Rachel laughs at her and slips an arm around her as they head back out to the living room.
Kurt is still in his room—most likely ensuring that it's spotless for Blaine—and Santana and Brittany are snuggled so close that she's pretty sure she and Quinn can also fit onto the couch. She helps Quinn down first and then settles as best she can between Quinn and Brittany, pressing herself into Quinn's side out of necessity. Quinn puts her arm around her and they watch as Willow experiences her very real nightmare of being forced to sing opera. Rachel giggles, "I love this part."
Eventually Kurt comes out of his room and settles into the armchair, his gaze sweeping along the couch a few times, his lip quirk betraying his mild interest. Rachel rolls her eyes. She always cuddles with Quinn when they watch TV. He should be used to it by now. After awhile, Santana groans and admits she has to take a shower and get ready for work. Kurt suggests they order pizza or something, and Santana agrees, "If you order now, I should have just enough time to eat it before I leave, and it will still be pretty fresh for when the others arrive."
Quinn forces Kurt to use her credit card to pay for the pizza; Rachel knows he isn't going to argue, because he's pretty broke. They all are, really, except, apparently, Quinn. She knows Quinn has a lot of money from her family, but she never really feels right letting her pay for things. She wishes she made enough to be able to buy dinner for Quinn once in awhile.
Santana's right about the pizza, and she shoves two slices down her throat before kissing Brittany, throwing on her winter coat and heading out the door. About twenty minutes later, Blaine calls Kurt, and he rushes down the stairs to let them into the building. A moment later, they're piling into the apartment, laughingly calling greetings, and everyone is hugging and giggling and squealing. Rachel feels herself being passed between everyone, going down the line of people to hug, until she falls into Kurt and laughs and hugs him, too, and Brittany, and finally Quinn, and it's just so silly and funny and she's happy. These people are her real friends. She has real friends.
Kurt is being responsible, verifying that they parked somewhere legal and they're discussing plans for sleeping arrangements.
"You must be beat," Kurt smiles, "'Cedes, did you bring the air mattress? I think since there's only four of you we can fit you all. Blaine will be with me, of course, and there's the couch." Moving like a practiced team, Blaine and Kurt approach the coffee table and lift it carefully, carrying it into the kitchen, where it just barely fits. No one can really even fit into the kitchen with the coffee table in there, so Rachel goes in to grab paper plates and the pizza boxes and carries them out into the living room. Sam is inflating an air mattress and Puck is working to tuck everyone's luggage as out of the way as possible—it's kind of surrounding Rachel elliptical at the moment. Kurt and Blaine have disappeared, and Kurt's door is closed.
Mercedes smiles, "I don't think we're quite ready to turn in yet, even though, yeah, travel's exhausting. What are you watching?"
Puck groans, "Oh wait, it's that show again, isn't it? The one you made me watch last time?"
Quinn's eyes light up a little and she grins at Rachel, "You made Puck watch Buffy?"
"Ooh, this is Buffy?" Mercedes sounds interested now, "Kurt has been going on about the boys in this show."
Almost on cue, Kurt and Blaine exit his bedroom with their arms wrapped around each other, though Kurt seems a bit too preoccupied to notice that Mercedes had just mentioned him.
"I'd watch it," Sam offers amiably, "It's by the guy who did The Avengers movie, right?"
This catches Blaine's attention, "What is?"
Sam jerks a thumb at the screen, "Buffy. Am I right? Same guy who directed The Avengers?"
"San was showing it to me," Brittany offers, "because The L Word was making her mad," at this, Blaine and Puck both cover their laughter with coughs, "We can keep watching without her, she won't mind, she's seen it."
Puck rolls his eyes heavily, "Yeah, fine, whatever."
Naturally, the next episode they start (after the current episode ends in a way that baffles the new arrivals—invisible opponents?) is the drama-heavy Season 1 finale. Everyone sprawls around on the couch, the armchair, the air mattress to watch. And this time, when she sees it, maybe because Quinn is right next to her, but Rachel gets why Quinn might identify with Buffy. Watching Buffy struggle with just wanting to have a normal life, a night at Prom with a boy she likes, while circumstances beyond her control force her to face things she's too young to have to deal with—like mortality. How much of Quinn's life in high school was determined by her need to make things normal? And how many terrible things had happened that had reminded her with stark clarity that she could die? This kind of mental struggle, Rachel thinks, probably explains Quinn's entire Junior year, when Rachel'd been baffled by the fact that Quinn seemed to have just forgotten that she'd been homeless, that she was a mother.
Quinn is Buffy, she realizes. Brittany is right. Quinn is a warrior woman struggling with her own destiny, who constantly struggled with circumstances beyond her ability to cope with, but she had. Rachel has no idea how she is as well-adjusted as she is right now.
They don't watch much more, as everyone is pretty tired, and soon there's a rotation in and out of the bathroom to prepare for bed.
Puck glances at Mercedes, "The air mattress doesn't look bad, but I promise you their couch is actually really comfortable. You can have that if you want."
Mercedes snorts, "And what, you gonna spoon with Sam?"
Sam snorts too, and Puck scowls and crosses his arms, "Hey, I'm secure in my masculinity. I could spoon the fuck outta Sam all night and wake up just as badass," he flexes, which just seems to make everyone laugh at him more.
"That's about the most eloquent 'no homo' I've ever heard," Kurt quips.
"Hey, I'm just looking out for a lady. No homo there, for real," Puck shrugs.
"Thank you, Puck, but I'll be fine on the air mattress with my boyfriend, much as I'd enjoy watching you two spoon."
Puck shrugs, "It's cool. Like I said, the couch is awesome. Just don't keep me up with his trouty kisses."
Mercedes just chuckles and leans into Sam's side to pat his chest reassuringly. "He's just jealous," she purrs at him. Puck snorts, but Sam grins.
After everyone seems ready for bed, they say goodnight and head into their bedrooms. Kurt and Blaine are already snuggling as they walk, and Brittany follows Rachel and Quinn into the other room.
Brittany sighs and flops down on Santana's bed, "I'm jealous you get to snuggle while I have to wait for San," she sighs, "But I'm glad I remembered pajamas."
"Us, too, Britt," Quinn chuckles. Rachel presses her lips together, thinking of how she and Santana don't particularly worry about pajamas. Is that even normal? And suddenly her bedroom is like a locker room, as Brittany sighs and sits up on Santana's bed, fishing for her pajamas under the pillow, and Quinn is crouching to get her pajamas out of her bag. As both blondes start to undress, Rachel realizes Quinn's words weren't entirely serious. For crying out loud, these girls had been Cheerios. Nudity was nothing to them.
Even when visiting each other, though, Quinn had always changed clothes in another room. Rachel doesn't know if she's just too tired to care at the moment, or if having Brittany there just makes her more comfortable. Perhaps she hadn't been sure how Rachel would react. So Rachel struggles to remain as nonchalant as possible when, in truth, even the locker rooms in gym class had been anxiety-inducing. Even though she'd used many dressing rooms in her dance classes and had never been concerned there (though she'd often already been dressed for class before arriving), the locker rooms at school had been very different, cold and cruel and eerie. She was younger than most of her classmates, not to mention a bit of a late bloomer, and she can remember being so embarrassed by her own body in middle school that she'd changed in a bathroom stall. This, she thinks, was probably actually the genesis of the "tranny" insults. They'd just gotten worse when Quinn moved to the district in ninth grade and targeted her more directly than ever before.
But geez, she and Santana were half-naked around each other all the time. Not that she'd ever seen anything, besides which, it has gotten cold enough that she's started wearing her flannel pajamas. Judging by the pajamas (finally upgraded to a Cheerios t-shirt and sweatpants rather than her boxers and tank top) she'd see dangling over Santana's bedpost every morning, though, Santana is still sleeping mostly naked, even in winter. She really thinks she should be less anxious about changing clothes in front of Quinn and Brittany.
She can't help but watch Quinn's back as she lifts the t-shirt over her head. She'd worn one of the most casual outfits Rachel had ever seen her in, boot cut jeans, v-neck t-shirt and hoodie—good travel clothes, Quinn had explained, loose and comfortable. Rachel's eyes are drawn to the divot of flesh running the length of Quinn's spine, the light lines she thinks she can see at Quinn's lower back—faint scars? Perhaps? Quinn's so lucky with how well they blend into her flesh. She watches the way her body flares out at her hips and vaguely wonders what Quinn's waist to hip ratio must be. She marvels yet again that someone who was pregnant and paralyzed within the past three years should not look that good.
A glance at Brittany shows that she's just smiling faintly, looking at both Rachel and Quinn with completely neutral eyes—not perving, not critiquing, just casually observing the way they change clothes and the way their bodies look. It's almost unnerving sometimes how a being as casually sexual as Brittany can seem so completely asexual at times. Still, Rachel's suddenly conscious of her own face—she's sure her expression as she watched Quinn's back looked nothing like what Brittany looks like now. Her admiration is most likely inappropriate under these circumstances.
By the time Rachel is encased her in flannel pajamas—she'd decided on the striped ones, since they're not as thick as some of her others, because sharing a bed with Quinn is often warm—Quinn and Brittany are in matching Cheerios sweats and t-shirts, just like Santana's. It's almost freaky that all three of them continue to wear the same clothes for the exact same functions, like they really have been fully brainwashed by their years under Sue Sylvester's command. Brittany slides the covers back and smiles at the other two, "You both look really good. Like, your bodies look healthy."
"Thank you, Brittany," Rachel says shyly, "living in the city provides many opportunities for regular exercise."
Quinn smiles and begins to settle in bed, "And I'm doing my best to fight the freshman fifteen."
Rachel gives her a reproachful glance, but instead of verbalizing her strange pang of something, asks both of her guests whether they need anything before she turns out the light. In the dim illumination of the streetlights around the curtains, she can see Brittany curling up tight into a little ball, like a kitten, and she makes her way back to the bed easily, where Quinn is on her side, her hands tucked beneath her pillow. Rachel slides in on her side facing her. Their knees knock a few times as she shifts into place, until Quinn smiles a little and shifts onto her back, giving Rachel a bit more room. She turns to gaze at Rachel a little bit more as she shuffles into place.
"Good night, Rachel," she says quietly, "I can't wait for tomorrow."
"Me neither," Rachel smiles, eyes tracing all over Quinn's face.
She jolts very slightly when Brittany says, "Goodnight, Q, Rach." It's not that she…forgot Brittany was there, but it feels there had been a moment there. Quinn's eyes are amused as she murmurs a goodnight to Brittany, and she has to nudge Rachel with her leg to get her to offer her own.
Chapter titles from Computer Magic, "The End of Time," The Cardigans, "You're the Storm," and Purity Ring, "Fineshrine."