.
If you want something, don't ask for nothing
.

All in all, things in Chicago are pretty good. Right now, in the dead of winter, really isn't his favorite time to be here (he'd thought the way the snow had rolled through and just blanketed Lima had been bad enough when they had rough winters, but here, it's biting wind, and negative temperatures, and ice that lasts for weeks). But there's enough pleasure in his life that he can overlook the fact that it literally hurts his skin within ten seconds of going outside.

He knew he was a good dancer when he came to school, but he had no idea how much better he could become, and how hard he'd have to work to get there. The schedule is rigorous; they dance like it's their full-time job, six days a week, plus extra practice. He's learning a lot, and he loves the extra hours he spends in the practice studio, usually with Sandra and Kate and some of their other friends, practicing, critiquing each other, laughing. Already he can tell he'd going to get a lot out of the program.

The drawback, the fact that Tina is so far away, and still hasn't been able to visit, is something he doesn't dwell on.

They're both busy people. Mike's a good student, and that sort of work ethic means he's always putting in some additional practice. He knows Tina puts extra effort into every assignment, even though they'd always agreed that classwork at McKinley was a cinch, and she has all her extracurriculars, and Mike has his, if you consider partying and going out into the city extracurricular.

Still, they're constantly texting, which suits Mike fine, because he's always had an easier time with words when he has time to think and write them down. But he likes their phone calls, too, which happen once a week or so.

Tonight, he's actually taking the time to relax in his apartment to start off his weekend (which is really just Sundays). He lives by himself, because his father didn't want roommates interfering with Mike's schooling, and though Mike can't really fathom how they would, he greatly appreciates the space and the solitude. He's reading (George Takei's autobiography, actually, and no matter how often he tries to tell his friends that it was published before Takei even came out, they still tease him about it), waiting for Artie to text back to see if maybe they can get a game of Call of Duty going. Although he knows Artie's been busy lately, what with the play and the musical and his birthday just passing this week.

When his phone starts buzzing, he's surprised to see that it's because Tina is calling. But certainly not disappointed, and it's with a grin that he answers, "Hey!"

"Hey," Tina responds, and her voice is very subdued.

He's quiet for a few moments, before he asks, "What's wrong?"

"Remember…what we talked about over the New Year?"

Mike winces a bit, before frustration wells up, because it's only been like a month, and, "I thought we agreed not to talk about that," he says sharply.

"No, listen, because I need to," Tina pleads. Mike grinds his teeth, and she correctly interprets his silence as consent, "I know you said you didn't want to hear about it if I did…need to do some exploring. But I really think you need to know that I made out with Brittany."

"You…what?"

"Remember when I told you I was going dancing at the gay club, with Blaine and Brittany? Because I knew I'd never find other dance partners that even came close to you anywhere else in Lima?" she asks, a hint of amusement entering her voice toward the end.

Mike smiles a bit begrudgingly, "Yeah, I remember."

"It happened while we were there, while we were both drunk."

"While…how drunk were you?" he asks, but there isn't accusation in his tone, just concern.

"I was pretty drunk," she concedes, "But I knew exactly what I was doing, if that's what you're asking."

He swallows, digesting this, knowing that most men would probably have a raging hard-on imagining this, but not him. It's not that he's possessive, exactly, and it's not really that her wanting to look elsewhere makes him feel insignificant or not enough for her. It's just…he knows what he prefers, and he prefers fidelity. Monogamy.

"Why are you telling me this?" he finally asks.

"Because I know now, that I just want you," Tina answers with conviction. He's a bit surprised at her answer, and feels his eyebrows rise. "It…I don't really want to call it a mistake, because I learned from it, but…I get it now. That curiosity, that desire I had…it's gone. It was better left as a fantasy, because the reality? It just doesn't work for me. Kissing girls in my head might sound fun and sexy and really awesome, but actually doing it just makes me wish they had angular jaws and strong arms and stubble, and smelled like men. I just…I know you didn't want to know, but I had to tell you, because I needed you to know that my curiosity has been sated. I'm not looking for anyone else anymore."

"Oh…okay, well. That's good." Mike answers a little stiltedly.

There's another awkward silence, which doesn't happen between them often. Usually their silences are content, where even if they don't have anything to say, they're happy to just listen to each other breathe, occasionally saying "I love you," or "I miss you," and it isn't sad, it's honest, and they feel close.

"I'm just glad I figured it out," Tina says, relief evident in her voice.

"I just wish you hadn't told me," Mike answers in a rush of words.

"What…? But I thought, you'd be relieved."

"I am, but…" How could he explain it? "I think I would have been happier not knowing. Not having to think about the specifics of what happened. Hell, I probably would prefer to have just figured out that you had satisfied your curiosity from the way you were treating me, or maybe have found out months later that you were no longer looking, with enough time passing that I could never figure out how you'd decided that, so it wouldn't stay in my head."

"I'm so sorry," Tina chokes, her voice thick.

"It's okay," Mike assures quietly, "You couldn't have really known just how much I didn't want to know. I'm not sure I did, until right now."

"Can I do anything?"

"Just give me some time." At her shaky inhale, he says, "I'm not saying I need a break from our relationship. Just. Let me make the next move, okay? Let me call you. Or text you."

"Okay."

"You didn't do anything wrong, making out with Brittany," he tries to reassure her, "There's nothing wrong with that. You had my okay. Don't feel like it was wrong."

"Okay."

They hang up after a few more moments of awkward silence, and Mike rubs his face. And a few moments later, there's a knock on his door.

He's pretty sure he knows who it is as he gets up to answer. Although many of the students in his program live in this building, it was Sandra and Kate that he noticed first, and they noticed him, and they befriended each other. The fact that they all live in the same building means they spend a lot of time together, which is good, because they're a pair of expressive, social girls—just the type of people Mike needs to bring him out of his shell.

Sandra is the one who takes one look at his face when he opens the door and asks, "What's up, Mike?"

"Oh, um, nothing," Mike answers, surprised, because most people don't tend to notice his shifts in mood, "Just, conversation with Tina."

Kate gives him an appraising look and says, "Right, well, girl trouble, okay. All the more reason to get drunk! Come on, Shannon's having a party!"

And though later in the evening, he'll have to brush off Kate's questions about whether he wants to talk about what happened with Tina, and Sandra will act way too much like a waitress making sure he has all the drinks he wants, he appreciates his school friends more than he can really say. Literally, kind of, because words are hard sometimes.

.
Like my jealousy, too hot, too greedy
.

It's the thing that kind of always happens to her, how she gets bored and then starts to feel the urge to meddle. But, she hopes, at least this time, she's not just meddling to be a bitch.

Plus, it helps distract her from the clusterfuck she opened up at work with Helen and Angela, which is…Helen still won't talk to her, and all the other employees whisper in English and Spanish and Creole all around her about what must have happened, and she hasn't even really had a chance to see or talk to Angela.

First, it's texting Quinn.

Tana: when r u finally going to tell berry that youre a big ol muffdiver?

Q: Seriously?

Q: Well I guess I have to wait until I, um, dive muff for the first time before I can tell her that

Tana: ha ha

Tana: and yes seriously, its stupid not to, shes supposed to be ur best friend

No answer, but she knows Quinn's thinking about it.

And, because a two-pronged pincer attack is always more effective…

She joins Rachel on the couch one evening, "So," she starts, "Given any more thought to how sexy women are?"

Rachel flushes darkly, which Santana hopes is just because of how forward she's being, not because Rachel's maybe been thinking about her… "Good evening, Santana."

She chuckles, "Alright, it's cool, we don't have to talk about it. I'm just waiting for the day I get to be your wingwoman, that's all."

Rachel shrugs a little bit, ignoring the wingwoman comment. "Of course I've thought about women since our conversation," she mutters, "But nothing's really changed. It's still really just a…sexual thing."

"Too bad," Santana replies conversationally, "But maybe you're lucky that way, bitches be crazy."

Rachel peers at her as if she suspects, suddenly, that Santana is hiding something, so Santana hurries on.

"Talked to Kurt about it at all?"

Rachel sighs, "No." She gazes at Santana imploringly for a moment, before asking, "Is he mad at me?"

She blinks, "Not that…I'm aware of? I think he's just exhausted from work."

Nodding absently, Rachel twists her mouth for a moment before saying, "I feel like something changed between us when I…came out, I guess? It feels really weird to think of it like that. I still feel like he's one of my best friends, but I guess…it's like, before, when he thought I was straight, I was a f-fag hag, an ally…and now I guess I'm part of the long acronym and that…makes him see me differently."

Santana tries not to feel bad about the fact that she sees Rachel differently now, but that's because of what Kurt said more than anything, "I don't really see you differently," she half-lies, "No offense, but I guess I always saw you as the type of girl who'd try anything."

Rachel's expression sours a little, but she appears to take Santana's non-intentional offense to heart. "That's the thing, though, is I don't feel like that type of girl because I don't know that I ever want to try it. But even just knowing it's inside me…I guess I worry he feels something of the same, but without your positivism. That in spite of what he says, he's really just as uncomfortable with female bisexuality as he is with male."

Santana feels another pang of guilt at this, at the way she sometimes wishes Brittany weren't into men, too, but… "Ah, so…bisexual? You're more okay with that label now?"

A hesitation, then Rachel says, "Sure. It's probably the most accurate, even though I feel it constricts me somewhat."

"Well, I guess if you're just going to continue to date guys you don't have to come out. To everyone, I mean."

"Yeah," Rachel twists her mouth, "It's not something I want to bring up, really, but…if it came to it, if there was an opportunity to do it that felt right? I would. If someone called me straight, I'd correct them. That's more or less what happened a couple weeks ago."

"But that hasn't happened yet, since Kurt and I?" Santana intuits.

Rachel nods. Santana figured as much. If she'd told Quinn, Quinn would've certainly responded by spilling her own secret. But from the sound of it, Rachel isn't keen to tell Quinn just on principle; she needs "an opportunity."

Which means it looks like it's down to Quinn, after all.

It's weird, feeling like a go-between for these two. It's weird to know something about them that they don't know about each other. They always seemed to know the other one's business, all throughout high school.

And she can't really say why she needs them to come out, already. Maybe it's discomfort with knowing something; she's not the best at keeping secrets. Maybe she hopes that Rachel finding out about Quinn will distract her from the whole potential idea of Santana, if Kurt is right about that having been in her head. And maybe, she hopes that Quinn finding out that Rachel just can never love women will help her move on. Maybe jump back into bed with that cute roommate of hers.

But regardless, she's back to texting Quinn.

Tana: this is really something u have to bring up with Rachel, u kno

Because, she thinks, Rachel is not nearly comfortable enough with her sexuality to bring it up first.

Q: Well, obviously. She's not going to bring up my sexuality for me.

Goddamn Quinn for being so logical.

Tana: oh u kno what I mean. Bring it up and soon

Q: What's the rush and why in hell are you so worried about it?

Fair question.

Tana: because in case u havent noticed, ur two of the people closest to me and I kind of care about you two continuing to get along

Q: Right. Well. I'm hardly comfortable with my sexuality. But we'll see. Maybe I'll get up the courage next weekend.

Thank god.

Tana: gimme some warning and I can make sure Kurt and I are somewhere else

Q: Yeah, that probably won't be necessary. And thanks, but you need to shut up about this now. I'll do it when I'm good and ready.

She's just beginning to feel smug, because Quinn dismissing her feels like progress, when she gets another text.

Britt-Britt: can I call u

She's not even really sure why it's a question, and in response, she closes the bedroom door and calls Brittany instead.

And after Brittany answers, a little subdued, she's only a little cautious when she greets with "Hey." If Brittany's upset about something, it's best to let her spill on her own terms.

Brittany's briefly quiet on the line, then says, "I think I have something I'm supposed to tell you, but I realized we never talked about whether we were supposed to tell."

It's one of those moments when what Brittany says doesn't quite add up to her, though admittedly it's because it's convoluted rather than completely non sequitur. She's usually better at this. "What?"

"I made out with Tina," Brittany answers, and she sounds mostly casual, but with an edge Santana can't identify.

"Tina?!" she replies, half-intrigued and half-amused, "No way. She's so straight she thinks Boy Chang's abs have a personality."

"Mike's nice," Brittany defends automatically, and Santana fights the urge to roll her eyes. This is always how it is with Brittany's exes, no matter how casual they were. "But yeah, there were lady kisses."

"How was it?" Santana asks, feeling…well, mostly fascinated. But there's a twinge of something there. Something uncomfortable.

"Oh, it was kinda hot. She's a good kisser, even when she's drunk. I don't think I want to do it again and I don't think she does, either, but it was fun."

"Oh, that's too bad," Santana adds. They're quiet for a moment, and Santana reflects back on what Brittany said when the conversation first began. They never did clarify whether they were supposed to tell each other about what might happen, but she supposes it makes sense to do so. However, she hasn't done anything, not really, and though she suspects Brittany might be waiting for her to confess anything, Santana finds that she doesn't want to tell about her awkward semi-date with Angela. I didn't actually do anything, she keeps reminding herself.

Eventually, she asks, "Why don't you think you want to make out with Tina again? I mean, she is pretty hot, despite dressing really weird."

"Well…I kind of wanted to talk about that," Brittany answers tentatively.

There's a sudden jolt in Santana stomach as she realizes that just telling her about Tina is not the reason Brittany has been so off this entire call. There's something else, and she has a bad feeling about it. "Oh. Okay."

Brittany takes a deep breath, "I don't know if you're going to be happy. But, when I made out with Tina, like, it was fun, but it wasn't what I wanted."

"No?"

"No. Because, well. She wasn't you."

"Oh." It's surprisingly sweet, and she feels warm for a moment, but it doesn't explain why Brittany thought she wouldn't be happy. "So, wait. Do you want to cancel our deal?" She doesn't want to, but, maybe she can save face with Angela. Abruptly, the accusation of keeping a girl in reserve comes back to her, but she tells herself that's not what she's doing, and it's not what she did with Helen. She has faith in herself and Brittany. They'll make it, it's only a few more months until Brittany comes to New York.

More like half a damn year, she can't help thinking.

"No, I just want our deal to be different."

Again with the sinking feeling in her stomach. "Different how?"

"Right now…" Brittany begins, and she sounds thoughtful, "Right now our deal is that I can make out with girls. But I don't really want to, I don't think, because it makes me miss you. Because I know, from all the kissing I've done, that you're the best girl kisser because you make my heart do that thing where it makes me all warm. Like I'm going to have a heart attack." Santana smiles in spite of herself, and lets Brittany continue, "What I really miss is kissing boys." Jolt. "I don't miss having a boyfriend because right now I'm in love with you. But boys kiss different and they feel different. And that's what I miss. The feeling of boys without having the feelings for boys."

"We talked about this," Santana starts after a shaky breath, "I don't…I don't like the thought of you with guys. It feels dangerous."

"I wish you believed me when I told you it wasn't." Brittany sounds so disappointed, it crushes Santana's heart, but…that gnawing hole in the pit of her stomach is stronger.

"I wish I did, too," Santana answers sincerely.

"It's just not fair," Brittany blurts, and she actually sounds hurt now. "You only like girls, and you can kiss them, so you can kiss whoever you want. I like both, and because no girl in the world can begin to compare to you, I want boys, but you won't let me kiss who I want."

" I know, but…I'm sorry."

Another short silence. "What if I didn't tell you?"

"Are you saying you're going to anyway?" Santana asks in shock.

"Never," Brittany vows, "But we could agree that if I do anything, you just don't know about it. You'd never have to worry about details."

"I…" Santana thinks about it, and weighs just how much she loves Brittany with how much it makes her heart ache to think about her with guys, and she knows it's irrational, she knows Brittany loves her, too, but… "I don't know. I think it would haunt me just knowing it was happening…"

"You wouldn't know for sure if we both pretended it wasn't."

She chuckles hollowly, "Oh, believe me, I'd know. You're like, the hottest girl I've ever seen, of course you'd find guys willing to fool around."

"But still," Brittany pleads.

She just can't. "Let me think about it, okay?"

"Okay," Brittany sighs dejectedly, like she already knows Santana's answer will be no. Which it probably will be, Santana reflects bitterly, angry with herself for feeling so ridiculously insecure about boys. She knows she's hot. She knows she's an amazing lay. And she knows boys are basically worthless, especially high school boys. Most importantly, she knows that Brittany loves her. So why does this bother her so much?

There's no good answer, and the conversation ends quickly afterwards, without much more than a disappointed farewell. Santana tosses her phone at the foot of her bed and just lies on her back, staring at the ceiling, feeling nothing and everything at once.

This isn't what she thought it would be like.

.
I'm not a lost cause, I'm just stuck in this spot
.

As soon as she makes it to Rachel's apartment, the gravity of what's going to happen starts to weigh on her.

Because Santana is there, immediately smirking at her as she walks through the door with Rachel, after stamping a bit to get the salt off her boots. They make brief eye contact, Santana tilts her head slightly, almost a challenge, and Quinn looks away. Rachel is ushering her into the bedroom, urging her to put down her bag and take off her shoes and get comfortable, and Quinn is happy to comply, but she feels Santana's eyes on her as she walks in.

It's the day after Valentine's Day, and if she's honest, she's still waiting for a mention of Finn from Rachel.

She wishes she trusted that it really was finished between them, but, as Rachel's barely talked about it, and she's only heard bits and pieces from others, what is she to expect? They've always managed to get back together. All it would take would be one, grand, sweeping romantic gesture from Finn, and she'd fall into his arms, just like she always has. And she saw the way seeing Finn around Thanksgiving had turned Rachel into a sobbing mess.

Instead, so far there's no mention of him as they take some time to relax, and Quinn convinces Rachel that they should go out to dinner. When Rachel invites Santana along, Quinn prickles, because she can't tell if Rachel's just being polite or if she feels weird being alone with Quinn. Either way, Santana waves them off and tells them she doesn't feel like getting dressed and she ate breakfast pretty recently. She gives Quinn a pointed look when she and Rachel finally set out to find some dinner.

Even though it's not actually Valentine's Day, Quinn feels particularly conspicuous as they walk into their chosen restaurant. Quinn had pushed for some moderately priced Thai, promising to pay for Rachel's meal, and though Rachel refused to allow her to do so, she'd eventually consented. Even though she'd changed out of her jeans and into a skirt and blazer, Quinn still feels underdressed. She refuses to look at the other smiling couples around them. Are late Valentine's dates something people do?

Rachel grins as she studies the menu, noting that she has several vegan options (something that never fails to please her even when she expects it). Quinn watches her happily peruse the menu for longer than is normal and then, blushing, studies her own menu.

There's an awkward silence after they order that lasts only for a little while before the subject of classes comes up. It's something they couldn't discuss much, being so early in their semesters the last time they were face to face, and especially when they get on the topic of Quinn's History of Theater survey course, they spend a lot of time discussing things they've both learned and enhancing each others' knowledge. Even when the topic shifts to the Feminism seminar, they still have a lot to say.

"I'm jealous," Rachel sighs, "In some ways I wish I were going to a traditional university, because there's a lot I want to learn. I mean, I know I'm a feminist, or think I am, but there are things I haven't thought a lot about, and things I know I don't know about."

"Yeah," Quinn nods, "I mean, I knew the basic stuff, but now I'm learning about how race and socioeconomic class play into the same system, and it just goes so much deeper than I thought it could."

"Race?" Rachel asks, looking completely perplexed for a moment, but her expression clears somewhat, "I think I get it, on the surface. I just wish I knew more."

"At least you know enough to realized you can love men and still be a feminist," Quinn responds a bit bitterly, thinking back to something Stephanie said and barely noting the way Rachel's expression turns a bit surprised. She's still shocked by Stephanie's words, but then, when she thinks back to herself at age 15, before she was ever pregnant, before she was forced to face horrific choices…I thought the same thing.

She's not sure, because she doesn't talk about it much, but she has the idea that Stephanie's life hasn't been particularly easy. She's picked up on a few things. She really doesn't discuss her mother, she's been raised by her white grandmother. She was the only person of color at her high school. People reacted in different ways to struggles, she supposes. Rachel, clearly, reacted similarly to her, and the thought relieves her somewhat.

She's about to take a breath, to bring up things she's learned about sexuality in class, hoping to segue into talking about her own sexuality, when the server brings them their check. Quinn snatches it up, and the opportunity feels lost.

Besides, she reflects as they head back to Rachel's apartment, she still has the whole weekend to get through. If Rachel had reacted badly…

Not that she would. Or should. But…still.

What if she reacted…well. Very, very, well.

She does her best to dispel those kinds of thoughts from her mind. She's not ready for them. She may never be, she thinks. It's not like she even ever had an orgasm before. There is such a temptation to fantasize about someone coming along and doing it for her, just giving them to her, without any instruction or challenge, but…perhaps Stephanie had a point. Maybe she should be the first to give herself an orgasm.

When they get home, Kurt greets them at the sink, where he's doing several days worth of dishes, and Rachel goes into the bathroom. Santana sidles over to where Quinn is taking off her shoes and coat at the door.

"Tell her?" she murmurs.

"No," she snaps quietly, "Not yet."

"What are you waiting for?"

"The right time," she says tersely. Over the sound of the running water and Kurt clanking dishes, they hear the bathroom door open. Santana takes a step away from Quinn, glances awkwardly at Rachel, and shuffles back to her armchair, raising her arms and stretching exaggeratedly in mock casualness. Quinn wants to roll her eyes, but instead her gaze fixates on the dimples on Santana's lower back as her t-shirt lifts. She glances away and back at Rachel, whose brow is wrinkled, and smiles awkwardly. "Want to watch something? Kurt's here, we could keep going with Buffy."

"Ooh! Yes!" Rachel says excitedly. They're nearing the end of Season 5, and Rachel immediately begins to bombard Quinn with how much she likes this season, with the big bad that can give Buffy a run for her money in all aspects, "even looks!"

As the weekend continues, there just doesn't seem to be an opportunity. Kurt convinces them to go shopping for some spring fashion in the late morning on Saturday, and by the time they make it home after shopping and lunch in the mid-afternoon, Santana is awake, and they're all back to enjoying the TV together.

At one point, Kurt excuses himself to take a phone call from Blaine, and Rachel takes the opportunity while the show is paused to respond to some emails. Quinn gets up to make a cup of hot chocolate, and Santana sidles into the kitchenette, muttering, "Seriously, if you want to be alone with her…"

"Dammit, Santana, I've got this," she hisses back, "Just leave it alone."

"Quinn?" Rachel's voice sounds, closer than she'd thought. She doesn't jump, but she turns to see Rachel standing, nearing the tile of the kitchenette.

"Yeah?"

"Can you make me a cup, too?"

"Of course," Quinn nods. Santana stands there with an uncharacteristically guilty look on her face, then reaches for the cocoa powder as if she'd been intending to help all along. Rachel watches them for a few more moments before walking back to the couch, and Quinn just kicks Santana lightly in the shin. Santana manages to stifle her outburst and, glaring, turns and walks into the bedroom to save face.

.
This heart's trivialities are the world's sole realities
.

She knows that she's rather self-involved, and therefore not the most intuitive person in the world, but even she can tell when someone is keeping something from her.

Quinn and Santana are definitely whispering about something behind her back.

She feels like every time she looks away, Santana is giving Quinn some kind of pointed look, or muttering to her while Quinn looks annoyed. It's weird, and she has a prickly feeling like she used to get in high school, just before she'd get slushied. Like her sixth sense was trying to warn her to watch her back.

Irrationally, she can't help but think about Finn.

In all honestly, she'd shocked herself by not thinking about Finn once during Valentine's Day. It used to be the kind of day that she'd spend fantasizing about her dream man, or enjoying him and their date that one time, but this year, all she'd done is smiled and hoped for the best for the couples she knew.

Oddly enough, she feels like Blaine's advice worked, somehow. Even though her encounter with Jeremy was not ideal, she feels like she's put it behind her, and that it somehow helped her put Finn behind her, as well. Some emotional and sexual distance, she thinks, to match the physical distance that will probably separate them all their lives.

She knows now, they just don't work together.

But now that she's seen the way Quinn and Santana are whispering, it comes back, like a long-forgotten sore that suddenly aches with infection. That thought, that she'd tried not to dwell on, that Quinn had once dreamed of a life in Lima with Finn, that Quinn could fulfill that dream. Move back after Yale, after Finn finished his military service. She remembers how Finn would always go back to Quinn, how some part of him seemed to always love her, always want her. Hell, he'd even gone to their senior prom with her, despite his engagement to Rachel. And Quinn…

She can't see what else Quinn could be whispering about, what else she wouldn't want Rachel to know, if it weren't that Finn had done something, perhaps on Valentine's Day itself, to win her back.

She tries to push away the feelings, but, there's the whole fact that Quinn hasn't dated anyone since she got to Yale. Which just seems crazy, because that whole campus has to be filled with smart, wealthy, handsome men—just the type that Quinn would like, right? The type of people she'd grown up with. Had she not been dating because she'd wanted Finn for herself? Had this weird rift appear between them because Finn remained the one topic they still couldn't discuss, for fear of making the other one hurt or jealous?

She's left wrestling with whether or not she'd really want to know. She's over Finn, sure. But she can't help but feel like it'd be a betrayal if Finn and Quinn dated again.

But, she is glad to see Quinn. And they do have some great talks, and laugh at the TV together, and she's so warm and soft in Rachel's bed at night. Rachel loves this, the waking up spooned against Quinn, warm and comfortable and relaxed. She really rarely shared a bed until Quinn started visiting, and even when she had, her queen bed meant she always had her own space. But sharing with Quinn is easier than she'd thought. When either of them would wake up in the night needing to turn over, the other would wake up just enough to turn with them, and they'd sink back into sleep together again.

Even with the doubts hanging over her head, she's glad Quinn is there. She's always glad to be around Quinn.

By Saturday evening, she's mostly just sad that Quinn will be leaving the next morning, to give herself time to do homework in the afternoon and Rachel time to work a half shift at the clothing store. Kurt has long since retired for bed, exhausted from their day shopping, and Santana had headed off to work a few hours ago. She and Quinn continue to watch The X-Files while eating takeout, but finally have to admit that they're going to need to get some sleep.

When Rachel comes back from the bathroom after completing her nightly ritual, she finds Quinn pacing in the bedroom, as much as she can with the limited space. She stops and faces Rachel warily and says, "I have something I need to tell you."

The bottom drops out of Rachel's stomach and it feels already like she's about to cry. She swallows back the teary sensation and croaks, "Okay," and, feeling like her knees are about to buckle, she slips past Quinn to sit heavily on her bed.

Quinn watches her, and then sits lightly on the edge of Santana's bed. She stares at her hands for several long moments, then looks up and meets Rachel's eye. "I'm gay."

Rachel's mouth drops open in complete shock, "W-what?" Quinn winces and looks away, clearly misinterpreting Rachel's tone, so she goes on quickly, "No, no, I'm not…upset or anything, just surprised. I thought you were going to tell me you and Finn had gotten back together!" she rambles, laughing a bit in relief.

"Finn?" Quinn asks incredulously, eying Rachel uncertainly.

Rachel drops her gaze, "Yes, well. I couldn't figure out what else you and Santana would be muttering about." Her eyes widen, and she glances back up, "Wait. So Santana knows?"

Quinn nods slowly, "Yeah. She knows."

"Oh," Rachel sighs. It hurts, just a little, that Santana knew before she did. But she can rationalize it. Quinn and Santana were sort of best friends for a long time, through their ups and downs, and Santana is gay. She and Quinn haven't been confiding in each other much. And Santana knows about Rachel's sexuality, and Quinn doesn't. Rachel hesitates, feeling like it's time to tell her own secret, but something else, born of insecurity, bursts out of her mouth instead, "Who else knows?"

There's a pause before Quinn answers, and she speaks quickly. "Sean. Puck. Zizes."

"Zizes?" Rachel asks, hearing the hurt and incredulity in her own tone.

"It was easy," Quinn mumbles, "I didn't care about her opinion."

"And you care about mine," Rachel deadpans, "I'm supposed to be your best friend, and I'm the fifth person to find out about this."

"I do care about your opinion, so much," Quinn defends, her voice cracking.

"Do you?" Rachel challenges, "I am fine with you being gay. Surprised, given how often we fought over Finn in high school. Although, actually, it explains a lot about high school. I'm happy for you for figuring this out about yourself. But maybe it's my feelings you don't care about, because you had to know I'd be hurt to find out after Lauren Zizes."

"Okay," Quinn fires back, her hurt gone, her voice low and intense, "'It explains a lot about high school'? Really? What does that even mean?"

"Just that…I could always tell you were hurting then, and thought I knew why, but this is just another reason why you were in so much pain—"

Shaking her head, Quinn cuts in, "That reaction is exactly why I hesitated to tell you. You've forgiven me so much more than I deserve for the way I was back then. Don't use this as yet another reason to interpret and excuse my bad behavior. I was awful then. And sure, my sexuality didn't help the way I felt and the way I reacted to things and my general hostility to the world, but…please, don't forgive me even more just because I'm gay. Don't pity me."

Quinn looks away, her eyes glistening, and Rachel is speechless. She has forgiven Quinn completely; this isn't a new reason to forgive Quinn, it's a new reason to sympathize with her, and everything she had to struggle with. But telling Quinn this would be unhelpful, given her ridiculous, Rachel thinks, sentiment, so instead, she admits, "I have something to tell you, too."

Quinn glances up, her expression guarded, "What?"

"I…well." She decides to be fully honest. "Do you remember my castmate, Jeremy?" Quinn nods, "We fooled around after the play's opening night." Quinn sits up straighter, and her expression closes off even more, if that's possible, but she's still watching Rachel, still listening. "It…wasn't good. And somehow, in the middle of it all, I came to a realization, that I didn't fully process until I was talking with Santana and Kurt afterwards."

Rachel lets the statement hang in the air, not for dramatic effect (okay, maybe partly for that), but mostly because it's still so hard to say. Finally, Quinn asks in a soft voice, "What's that?"

"I'm…bisexual. Sort of. I love men. But I'm also attracted to women. I just…don't fall in love with them."

"You're bisexual?" Quinn breathes, staring at Rachel like she's never seen her before.

"It's…a recent discovery. I ignored it for a very long time because, like I said, I only love men."

Quinn nods absently, still staring, then asks in a bitter voice, "Is that why you were worried I was with Finn? Because you only love men and you still love him?"

The question feels like a punch to the gut for a split second. Rachel is not sure why, because thinking of Finn really doesn't hurt anymore, but something about the way it comes from Quinn's lips does hurt. "He was my first love. A part of me will always love him a little bit, but…no. I'm not in love with Finn. That doesn't mean I would have been happy if you two got together. It just. It would have hurt. You're my best friend, and he's my first love."

"So…we are still best friends? Even after this?"

"Of course!" Rachel exclaims, "How can you even ask this? Quinn, like it or not, I forgave you for everything a long time ago because I just wanted to be your friend. Finding out you're gay doesn't affect anything. It can't make me forgive you more. It just makes me prouder of everything you've had to go through. I admire you so much. And," she makes the decision, again, to forgive, "It's okay that you didn't tell me right away. I mean. Clearly I didn't tell you everything I'd been going through, too. I see now how stupid it was, but a part of me was always worried you and Finn would find your way back to each other. That I'd somehow encourage you to do it if we talked about him."

Despite herself, Quinn emits a sharp laugh, "Yeah. Yeah, that's not going to happen."

"But I'm glad that we got our secrets out of the way. I just want us to be close again. I want to be able to talk to you."

"Me, too, Rachel," Quinn says quietly. She hesitates, like there's more she wants to say, but Rachel doesn't notice until she's up and halfway to her, arms open, waiting for her. Quinn stands and wraps Rachel up in a firm, strong hug. Rachel feels Quinn's breath catch as they hold each other for a long moment, Quinn exhales a slow, relieved breath, and doesn't speak more.

When they break apart, Rachel strides back over to her bed and pulls down the covers, beginning to settle in. Quinn hovers uncertainly, watching her. Rachel looks up, smiles, and asks, "Is everything okay?"

"Are you sure you're still okay with me sleeping next to you?" Quinn asks timidly, "I mean, I'd understand—"

"How can you ask me that?" Rachel asks in return, bewildered, "Of course I'm okay with it. It's not as though you coming out means you're going to," she almost says 'molest,' but decides against it, "seduce me or something!" A flicker passes over Quinn's face, perhaps hurt, so Rachel pleads further, "Please, sleep next to me, like you always do. Besides, do you really want to find out Santana's reaction to finding you in her bed?"

A low, reluctant chuckle, and Quinn heads over for the other side of the bed. Rachel curls into her as soon as she lays down, wrapping an arm around her stomach. "I'm so glad you told me," she murmurs, "You're my best friend. You can tell me anything."

There's a long pause before Quinn answers, "Okay."

Rachel drifts off to sleep rather quickly. In her drowsiness, she is sometimes aware of Quinn moving slowly, carefully, trying not to wake her. At one point, she thinks she hears Quinn ask her if she's awake, but when she tries to answer, she just murmurs sleepily. She barely remembers it the next morning.

.
If I had an orchard, I'd work 'til I'm sore
.

He can hardly believe it when Valentine's Day passes, because he's been so busy the days are just flying by. When he thinks back to high school, just last year, unbelievably, it felt like those days dragged by so slowly. Every little dramatic moment was amplified, felt like it lasted months.

Now, his jobs are such that anything remotely dramatic passes by as quickly as everything else. As quickly as the little free time he has, that average of one day a week. He barely knows where his evenings go, either, and finds himself passing out in the armchair in the living room watching TV. When this behavior starts to remind him unnervingly of his father, he decides he needs to stop watching TV in the evening if he's not watching it with his roommates.

Although he would've liked to spend time with Blaine on Valentine's Day, travel just wasn't possible. He was needed on staff at the restaurant, because it was such a busy night and he hadn't really accrued enough clout to be able to get time off for that night. The restaurant work is okay. Being a server is fast-paced and the time flies, and when he gets annoyed, it's similar to the clothing store in that he can sass the customers a bit and, as long as he smiles, they think it's hilarious and still tip him well. He comes home exhausted and dirty every day, which is a drawback. At least at the clothing store, his hair is still more or less in the same condition as the beginning of the day by the time he gets home.

Since he couldn't visit, instead, they'd mailed each other gifts (new slacks for Blaine, luxury facial kit for Kurt), and he and Blaine had talked in the morning before Blaine went to school and that evening when Kurt got home. It had been a very nice phone call. Very relaxing, and he'd dozed off for a few minutes with his pants still halfway down his thighs before Blaine woke him back up and told him he loved him and that he should go to sleep for real.

He doesn't think much about what else he could be doing. It's a relief to be making enough money to pay all his bills and still be able to buy a few nice articles of clothing every month. He's even saving a little, which is good, because once he manages to take some time off, he wants to visit Blaine, and he wants to go visit his father in D.C. Burt has a small apartment in Arlington with a futon he has invited Kurt to come sleep on any time. Carole visits when she can, although she doesn't want to quit her job, she's just cut back hours to make the distance work, and Burt comes home to Lima whenever he can, and so far they seem to be making it work just fine. Carole also feels bad leaving Sam by himself, although he is more than capable of taking care of the house while they're gone. Kurt's even more thankful Sam's still living in his parents' house, with both he and Finn gone. Sam really is a great guy.

When an opportunity arises, he is barely prepared for it.

It's one of the regular customers at the clothing store, a lady in her mid-forties who spends a lot of time searching the racks to find rare and interesting clothing. She herself is always dressed very professionally in pantsuits or modest skirts, although Kurt never gave much thought to what she could be doing with the clothes, except to note that they're not her size, and sometimes don't even suit her gender. Probably she makes a profit reselling them on Ebay or something. Who cares?

But he likes her, and whenever they encounter one another, they discuss fashion. Sometimes, she asks him what he thinks about a particular piece, or a particular style, and he is always critically honest with her, which she seems to appreciate (for Kurt, fashion is too sacred to lie to a direct question just to make a sale).

After a conversation with her a few days after Valentine's Day, she gives him a critical look and says, "You have good taste."

He grins, "Thank you, I happen to think you do, too."

She nods, smiling slightly, then reaches into her pocket to extract a business card, "I'm Tanya Lyons, fashion photographer, and I'm looking for interns. Give me a call sometime, we might be able to work something out."

Kurt takes the card reverently, and is speechless for a few moments before uttering, "Thank you. I will do that."

She offers a hand to shake, and he does, mindful to keep his grip firm and professional. He spends the rest of his day in a daze, wondering…

He calls to find out some more information. Tanya's receptionist tells him they want him on-call basically every day, it's unpaid, shoot lengths vary. He'll mostly be helping to pick up clothes from sellers or dry cleaners and organize them, and retrieve them from the racks quickly for Tanya's models.

And he's torn.

He manages to catch Blaine on the phone that evening.

"What should I do?" he asks when he's explained the situation.

"Well, it does sound like a good opportunity."

"I know," Kurt enthuses, "But…it's unpaid and random, and I need to be able to afford to live here."

"Maybe you can get a job that works around your random schedule?"

"Like what? Freelance sassing?"

Blaine chuckles, "I'm pretty sure you do that for free."

"Only because I haven't found anybody willing to pay me."

Blaine's quiet for a moment, then says, "I say, you should go for it. Aren't opportunities like this the reason you came to New York?"

It's those words that make him realize, it's not what he came here to do.

He decides to get a second opinion. Blaine has never had to afford rent, and has always had a comfortable allowance from his parents, but his roommates have. So the next time they're all home, he sits them down, shows them the business card, and asks what they think.

"I'm barely making enough to afford anything right now," Santana grumbles, "I'd definitely hesitate to limit the hours I'm actually making money."

"I agree," Rachel chimes in, "But this could be huge, Kurt. I mean. New York isn't just performing arts. The Fashion Institute of Technology is here, too. And I know you love fashion just as much as performing."

"Do I?" Kurt asks, "I'm not sure that I do. I mean, I suppose I could see pursuing fashion as a backup plan, but…I haven't even really tried Plan A. Not getting into NYADA felt like the end of that, but it could very well just be a setback."

"There might still be time to apply this year," Santana suggests.

"There isn't," Rachel refutes sadly, "The application deadline passed."

"Oh." He shouldn't be surprised. He'd felt so defeated that he hadn't even been watching for deadlines, although now he wishes he had. "I could apply for the next year."

"Yeah," Rachel encourages, "You should do that. And in the meantime, you can try this. See if it's something you'd like to continue with."

"I doubt that," Santana rolls her eyes, "This internship sounds like you'll just be ordered around for no pay. How is that worth it?"

Privately, he kind of agrees.

"I definitely have negative feelings associated with unpaid internships," Rachel asserts, "Dad says they're basically a form of corporate slave labor. But unlike actual slavery, they can really help you break into an industry and gain some relevant experience."

"Yeah. True," Kurt murmurs. Santana just twists her mouth and shrugs sullenly.

He ends up calling again, and actually getting Tanya on the line this time. He tells her he works around 50 hours a week and isn't sure he has the time for the internship, although he wishes he did.

"Shame," she intones, all business, "You would've been a great asset to have on board."

"I agree," Kurt answers optimistically, "I just wish I had the time and money."

"Hmm," she answers thoughtfully, and he stays on the line, uncertain, until she says, "Most of my shoots are on Saturdays. Think you could join us on just that day? I won't make you be on call for any of the others."

"I—of course!" Kurt answers, without really thinking, about how he gets some of his best tips on Saturdays, and that the clothing store always wants weekend help.

"Great," she says warmly, "I'll be in touch."

He hangs up slowly, surprised at himself. It figures, that just when he gets used to his life's schedule, something else comes up.

But it's not a bad thing, is it?

A/N: Chapter titles from Arcade Fire, "Neighborhood #2 (Laika)," Kate Bush, "Wuthering Heights," Lights, "Heavy Rope," Meat Puppets, "Why?," and Fleet Foxes, "Helplessness Blues."