Quinn hadn't seen Maribel Lopez in over two years, so when she got ready for the sleepover she wore her least "Skank" outfit, a pair of jeans, plain grey t-shirt and striped sweater. She tied her short hair back into a ponytail, or what she could manage to capture in the hair tie. Any hair that snuck lose was tucked behind her ears. She wore less make-up, a neutral tone for her lips, small amount of mascara and eyeliner, a little blush. She didn't want Maribel Lopez to look at her and think she looked ridiculous. She didn't want Maribel Lopez to be ashamed of her.
This was the main reason she was a fidgeting mess on the car ride over, duffle bag in her passenger's chair and cell phone tucked into her cup holder so she could hear it buzz. There were certainly other parts of the whole affair she was not looking forward to, but Maribel was first and foremost on her mind, the first hurdle. What would she think when she saw Quinn? What would she do, what would she say? Would she think Quinn was some trashy whore now? Would she cast sidelong glares, give Quinn curt answers when Quinn asked if she could please borrow a towel? Best not to even ask her questions, resign herself to making herself as small as possible in the Lopez household. Avoid the rejection, the hatred.
Quinn had loved Maribel Lopez once upon a time. She didn't want to see the scorn there.
She deserved it, of course, after the way she'd treated Santana. But she'd also gone out of her way not to have to interact with the Lopez mom because she'd known what to expect. Unlike most adults, who had just accepted her presence or thought of her as the picture perfect Fabray child, Maribel had treated Quinn like she treated Brittany. Almost like a secondary daughter. Of the adults that she lost after cutting off San and Britt, Mami Maribel was the only one she missed. The Pierce parents were loving, but while they were almost always home when the girls had a sleepover they often seemed startled to remember the girls were there. Mr. Lopez worked constantly. And Santana's abuela had never warmed to Quinn. She'd actually heard Abuela Alma tell Santana that Quinn was fake, and a Fabray through and through. Alma, Quinn had found, was not afraid to speak her mind. And she was also entirely correct when it came to her.
It was like diving into the deep end, seeing Mami Maribel first. It made Quinn's teeth chatter.
She parked outside of the Lopez residence and then just sat there, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel and staring straight ahead.
Her phone buzzed and she took a deep breath and picked it up.
What are you doing sitting outside?
Quinn's head shot up and she looked around. Seeing no one, she typed back.
How do you know I'm sitting outside?
Because I can see you. Can I come in?
There was a knock on Quinn's passenger side window. Quinn looked up from her phone to see Rachel smiling in at her. Quinn nodded.
Rachel opened the door and scooted in, pushing Quinn's duffel down into the floor. She respectfully kept her feet off Quinn's bag, crossing her ankles and putting them against the car door like she was in a job interview.
"What are you doing out here?"
"I could ask you the same thing."
Rachel wrinkled her nose and answered, "Well, I got here after you. I noticed you were still in your car so I thought I'd walk up with you, but then you didn't get out. I waited and you just sat here. Are you alright?" Rachel's voice lowered gently. "Are you afraid to go in?"
"I'm not afraid," Quinn objected, razor sharp gaze zeroing in on Rachel. Rachel didn't waver, just continued to smile at Quinn. Quinn looked away, scowling. "Just… it's been a while. Since I've been over here."
Rachel nodded compassionately, and she reached out to put a hand on one of Quinn's white-knuckled hands on her wheel. When Quinn's glance shot back to Rachel warily the little diva withdrew her hand, fisting it back into her lap. Rachel turned bright red and Quinn arched an eyebrow.
"I- I'll be right behind you, Quinn. You don't have to worry. It will be a lot of fun."
Quinn let her grip loosen and she gave Rachel a small smile. Of course Rachel would rush to assure her. Eager, happy, excitable Rachel. What a dweeb. Quinn relaxed slightly and ducked her head, thinking. Maybe she could avoid Mami Maribel? Keep a low profile, not interact with her, maybe Quinn could hide out. Yeah, that could work. "Alright, let's gone in," Quinn exhaled. Rachel clapped her hands, picking up Quinn's duffel and tossing it to her as Quinn got out. While Quinn pulled out her bag and locked up her car, Rachel went back to her own car and got her own sleepover gear. To Quinn's surprise it was only a (stuffed to bursting) backpack.
At Quinn's questioning raised eyebrow, Rachel giggled and shouldered her backpack higher. "The first time I came over I brought a suitcase. I don't think I'd have heard the end of it from Santana if we hadn't gotten distracted organizing Cheerios runs. She convinced me to pack less." Rachel and Quinn started walking up the walkway and Rachel lowered her voice. "It probably helps that I actually have some stuff stored in Santana's drawers and bathroom. I'm over here so often anyway."
Quinn smiled, but she felt her stomach drop a little. She had once done the same, left brushes and toothpaste and various clothing items at both Santana and Brittany's. She'd abandoned them when she'd severed ties. Quinn could almost picture Santana burning her clothing in some sort of ritual curse.
She wasn't surprised leaving items and sharing was still so common with Brittany and Santana. B and S specifically shared pajamas, daywear clothing, food, absolutely everything. They acted like what belonged to one belonged to the other, but they always looked like themselves even when they mixed and matched clothes. Santana wearing a Brittany skirt matched it with things to make it mesh with her style, Brittany wearing a snug Santana top matched it with accessories and flowing throwovers. They never ceased to look thoroughly like themselves.
It had been less for Quinn and, she imagined, less for Rachel as well. But Quinn could imagine that they still shared sweatshirts, loaned t-shirts, borrowed and gave with the generosity of a sisterhood.
It made Quinn envious, remembering all she had lost.
She just had to keep reminding herself it was for the best.
They mounted the porch stairs, growing trepidation in her gut. Quinn had decided on hiding out, but she was still working out the particulars in her head. How to do it flawlessly?
They got to the top stair and Quinn waited for Rachel to knock. Then Rachel gave her an eager look, and Quinn realized Rachel wanted her to do it. Like it was some big deal.
Quinn felt like rolling her eyes, but she didn't. She knocked, planning to dash into the house as soon as Santana opened up, hiding in her room for the entirety of the night.
Maribel Lopez opened the door.
Quinn froze. Maribel stared down at her, a critical frown on her face. No one moved. Even Rachel had been startled into stillness. Then Maribel grabbed Quinn's chin and yanked her face upward, tilting it left and right. Quinn let her.
After a minute of horrible silent examination, Maribel snapped, "What is this? You look terrible. Why is your hair that color?" Maribel pinched one of Quinn's cheeks. "And you're pale, look, I can't even bring out any color. Are you eating? What are you eating to make you so pale?"
Quinn stood silent, not entirely sure what was happening. Sure, Maribel Lopez was insulting her, but at the same time… She wasn't sure Maribel was.
Behind Maribel, Santana snickered loudly. Brittany giggled next to her, she at least covered her mouth with a hand to try and hide it.
"What, you don't talk now?" Maribel demanded.
"Sorry, Mrs. Lopez," Quinn murmured.
"What is this nonsense, "Mrs. Lopez", since when do you call me Mrs. Lopez? It's Mami, mija, did you forget the word?"
Quinn couldn't believe that Santana's mom still wanted Quinn to call her "mami", after two years of no contact. She was as stern as she ever was, but she did that with her "daughters".
Maribel turned to Santana, jerking her head at Quinn as she said, "This is how you take care of your friends, you let them turn into cotton candy?"
Santana's smile faded as she complained, "I didn't let anything, Quinn-"
"My stubborn daughter, can't even take the responsibility for a rough patch," Maribel lamented, ignoring Santana's words. "Friendship is a two way street, you think it isn't?" Santana pouted.
Santana pouted, but Quinn spoke up. "It was me… my fault. Santana did her best, honest Mami Maribel."
Maribel Lopez turned back to Quinn, dark brown eyes boring into her. Even Rachel cowered a little.
Finally Maribel held out her arms. "Come here."
Quinn obeyed and Mami Maribel pulled her into a strong hug. "Ay, mi hija, welcome home," Maribel crooned, and Quinn felt tears spring into her eyes.
Maribel finally let go, smiling so warmly Quinn felt her ice melt in the glare of it. She turned to Rachel. "And of course I didn't forget you, estrella." Rachel beamed and accepted a hug cheerfully. Quinn went to join Santana, who was giving her a hesitant smile, and a still giggling Brittany.
Maribel leaned back from the hug and looked at her daughter and friends. "Now scoot, all of you." She turned Rachel towards her daughter and pushed, smacking her butt to hurry her along. "I don't want any of you girls underfoot while I make dinner." All four nodded and trampled upstairs.
Exactly one time Maribel Lopez had asked Brittany, Santana, and Quinn if they wanted to help make dinner. The ensuing chaos that resulted had gotten Santana and her friends permanently banned from the kitchen during dinner prep. The girls were given free reign after, and more leniency for breakfast and lunches, but dinner was off limits. Dinner was sacred. The rule seemed to be in effect.
Santana's room had changed since Quinn had seen it last. Gone were the soccer trophies and Mia Hamm poster, any small stuffed animals Quinn might have recognized, all the telltale signs of a girl skirting the line between childhood and teenage-dom. Her room had been painted, the light yellow color Quinn and Britt had helped her pick out the summer before high school, and Quinn recognized some of the dark furniture pieces from their trip to IKEA to look at bedroom sets and stuff their faces with cinnamon buns.
In everything's place was Cheerios paraphernalia. Cheerios trophies, pictures, pompoms, her uniform pressed and hanging on her closet door. There were a few non-Cheerios things: a Bob Marley poster, some unregulated hairsprays and makeup on Santana's vanity, some statues. A stuffed bear Quinn had never seen before, probably a gift from Brittany.
It was different, foreign. Teenage San instead of kid San. But it smelled like Santana's room had always smelled, even under the scent of new perfumes, and when Santana and Brittany plopped down on the bed it was like they were back in middle school.
Then Rachel sat down cross-legged near the foot of the bed and Brittany started to play with Rachel's hair and Quinn smiled. No, it wasn't middle school after all. But some of the changes weren't so bad.
So Quinn teased, "Geez, San, are you a Cheerio or aren't you? I can't tell."
"Sorry, Fabray, is my room just not soft grunge enough for you?" Santana snarked back. But she was smiling, and Quinn sat down next to Rachel, her back against the bed.
"Sorry, Quinnie, I'm not doing your hair," Santana said drily.
"Oh, oh, I will," Brittany said enthusiastically. "Rach doesn't mind, do you Rach?"
"But I was enjoying it so much," Rachel said glumly. When she turned and saw Brittany's frown, Rachel laughed and patted Brittany's arm. "I was joking, of course I don't mind!"
"Yay! San, scoot," Brittany said. Santana groaned dramatically and moved to the head of the bed, propping up on the pillows. Brittany got on her stomach and leaned over the foot of the bed, beginning to run her hands through Quinn's hair. After a moment she sighed. "Oh, but Quinn. You have no hair now."
"I think it's really cute," Rachel piped up before turning a bright shade of red.
"No, I agree, it's super adorable. I just can't do anything with it." Still, Brittany continued running her fingers through it, and Quinn smiled contently.
"I think it looks like shit," Santana supplied from her position at the head of the bed.
"It's pretty," Brittany argued. "Like Quinn got lost in a candy factory and pink taffy got stuck in her hair."
Quinn rolled her eyes and Rachel laughed.
After a moment, Brittany said, "It's not very Quinn though."
Quinn tensed. Rachel bit her lip at Quinn's sudden shift of mood. Then Quinn asked stonily, "What does that mean."
If Brittany picked up on the edge she didn't react to it. Instead she explained breezily, "Maybe it's angry you. Angry and bright, so everyone knows. But you're not angry like that anymore."
Quinn was silent but she didn't move from Brittany's gentle touch. "I'm plenty angry," she eventually replied.
"I know. But not all-over angry. Not all-over pink."
"Like a streak pink?" Rachel asked lightly. When Quinn looked at her she just smiled.
"Like… like an underlayer pink," Brittany said with a satisfactory nod.
Quinn's face remained impassive. Then a slow smile crawled across it and she asked, "Oh, yeah? What's the rest?"
"Blonde! Duh."
Quinn chuckled. "I see."
Brittany sat bolt upright. "Ohmygosh, we have to do it."
"Do… what?" Quinn asked warily, turning to face Brittany.
"Your hair. We have to fix it!"
"Britt-"
"Please. I want you to look more like you."
"What if this is me?" Quinn said sharply.
Brittany looked confused by the question.
"It's not."
"How do you know?"
"Because I know you."
"Maybe you don't know me, Brittany, have you ever thought of that?" Quinn snapped.
Santana crossed her arms and scowled. Rachel looked nervously between Quinn and Brittany. Brittany's open face was bewildered, searching, as she looked at Quinn.
She said, "Maybe I don't know all the things that make you up. But I've got the full puzzle, I don't need to know every tiny piece to see the picture."
Quinn's bloodstream felt warm as Brittany gave her a 500 watt smile.
"And if some of the pieces… are missing?" Quinn asked uncertainly.
Brittany rolled off the bed, landing on her knees, and she crawled up next to Quinn. She looked her over, then poked Quinn in the side.
"Hey!"
"Nope. No hole there!" Brittany poked her again in a different place. "Not there either."
"Brittany, stop!" But Quinn was laughing and Brittany grinned wickedly.
"Rach, come help me look!"
Quinn laughed and squirmed as Britt and Rachel started to tickle her, falling sideways to the floor as they continued. The two kept up the onslaught until Quinn was nearly crying with laugher. They finally let up. Quinn righted herself and wiped at her eyes.
"Wanky," she heard Santana say from the bed.
"So can we?" Brittany asked, panting.
Quinn steadied her breathing. Blonde hair with pink in it? "…okay."
"Yes!" Brittany pumped the air. She stood. "Come on, come on!"
"What, now?"
"Yes!"
"Does Santana even have the supplies?" Quinn highly doubted Santana had any pink hair dye lying around.
"We're going to get it! Right, S?"
Santana groaned, flopping over onto her stomach and hiding her face in the pillows. Brittany raised an eyebrow, then said to Rach and Quinn. "Better go search my girlfriend for missing pieces."
"What, Brittany-" came Santana's muffled alarm, but Brittany had already jumped on Santana, fingers flying as they tickled the girl all over. Rachel and Quinn laughed watching the pair.
Rachel turned to Quinn. "You're okay with us doing your hair?"
Quinn thought about it and realized it actually sounded like a good idea. "Yeah. I could use a change."
Rachel beamed.
And Quinn thought about Brittany's puzzle analogy.
She wasn't saying that the pieces didn't matter. She was saying the pieces were already there, the puzzle complete. Even if Brittany couldn't see some of the pieces at all, she still saw the whole of Quinn. Could that really be true? Even without seeing the parts of Quinn that she hid so well, could Brittany see the whole picture?
No, it wasn't possible. Brittany couldn't see the side of her that was dirty and perverted. She'd have a different opinion if she knew.
Brittany virtually picked Santana up off the bed, staggering only slightly as she walked towards the door with her writhing girlfriend in her arms. Santana was blushing beet red, clearly embarrassed that Britt was not only able to bodily lift her, but that she was having difficulty breaking free. Finally Britt put Santana down, kissing her red-faced girlfriend on the cheek.
"Let's go!"
The four girls piled into Santana's car, Santana driving and Brittany shotgun, with Quinn and Rachel sitting in the back. Brittany kept mercilessly flirting with her increasingly flustered girlfriend, while Rachel and Quinn braced themselves in the background more and more fearful of car-accident-by-distraction. They kept exchanging glances with one another, laughing tightly at the mirrored anxiety on their faces.
They picked up boxes of blonde and pink hair dye and the other necessities to the activity. Quinn and Santana got into an argument about the color pink: Quinn wanted her regular color, Santana said it was shit and that she should pick another color completely. They eventually settled with Quinn's regular, ignoring a muttering Santana. Next the group wholly ignored Quinn's protests that she should pay for all of it, all three girls insisting on chipping in.
The whole trip took less than forty-five minutes even with the arguments, and they found themselves back at Santana's house before Mami Maribel had gotten to the halfway point of dinner prep. When the four girls entered through the back door, walking through the kitchen in the process, Maribel had cast them all scathing glares until they had vacated the kitchen completely.
The girls piled into the upstairs bathroom, a tight squeeze for four teenage girls. Only Quinn was uncomfortable, however. Rachel, Santana and Brittany seemed entirely comfortable being on top of one another in the enclosed space. It made Quinn feel claustrophobic, but every time Rachel caught her eyes and smiled, the oppressive feeling eased.
Rachel took charge of preparing the bleaching mixture after Brittany almost knocked it onto the floor for the third time, tasking Brittany with helping Santana find expendable towels, leaving Quinn and Rachel alone in the bathroom. Once Rachel was almost finished she turned to Quinn, eying the girl's outfit. "You should probably get out of that sweater, we don't want to ruin it."
Quinn hesitated. She didn't want any of her clothes to be bleached or dyed. She watched Rachel, who was finishing up the concoction. Despite everything that told her not to, Quinn trusted Rachel. Rachel could have taken advantage of her multiple times, including the time in the bathroom when she'd been slushied. And the girl had never overstepped.
Plus, Santana and Brittany had seen Quinn in her underwear plenty of times.
So Quinn stripped off her sweater and t-shirt, sitting on the edge of the tub in her bra and jeans.
When Rachel turned around again she nearly let the bleach concoction fall to the floor herself. Blood rushed to the little diva's cheeks. "I- I- Y-yes, that's a great idea, Quinn," Rachel stumbled, and despite herself Quinn smirked a little at Rachel's reaction. She was ridiculously cute.
Santana and Brittany returned with towels, neither one seeming particularly surprised that Quinn was now topless, and Santana put the towels on the tub rim. "Alright, let's do this," Santana said with a glint in her eye, grabbing at the brush to start painting in the bleach.
"No way," Quinn said at the same time as Rachel said, "Maybe I should do it." The two exchanged a look and Rachel blushed harder. Quinn smiled. "Yeah, let Rachel."
Santana huffed but put her hand back down. Rachel started to apply the bleach and Brittany bounced off to find a timer.
The hard part came when roughly half an hour later they had to rinse Quinn's hair. Taking a full on shower seemed like a waste of time and energy, but Quinn was again put in the situation where she had to put her head into a sink, and this time she couldn't put her face down or she'd risk bleach running into her eyes. When Rachel saw Quinn looking apprehensively between the three girls, Rachel realized what was going through her head. She didn't know why it freaked Quinn out to have water run over her head when she was facing upward, but she knew that it was a serious trigger for Quinn. So Rachel said gently, "Why don't you do the rinsing, Britt Britt?" She turned to Quinn and said softly, "You can hold onto my hand, okay?"
Quinn barely heard Rachel's quiet voice over the running of the water in the sink, which she realized was the point when neither Santana or Brittany seemed to hear, and after a long moment Quinn gave a terse nod. Quinn ducked her head under the warm stream and discreetly Rachel grabbed her hand, standing near the sink and directing Brittany so it looked like she was only supervising.
Quinn's grip tightened on Rachel's hand as Brittany started to gently rinse her hair. Brittany hummed happily, clearly enjoying that she could actually play with Quinn's hair this time around. Rachel was surprised by how strong Quinn's grasp became, but she didn't say anything as she watched Quinn's taut, strained face, eyes screwed shut and lips pressed into a thin line. Quinn held on and managed not to react the way she had in the bathroom after the slushie. Rachel puffed with happiness and allowed herself to take partial credit.
Brittany finished rinsing, shampooing, conditioning and rinsing again. Quinn sat back up, breathing hard as she righted herself, and still held onto Rachel's hand. Santana attacked Quinn's head with a towel.
The next part was applying the blonde hair dye. Rachel took charge again, but Santana insisted on helping, and then Brittany took the brush and applied the dye liberally, and Rachel had to take control finally and fix up Quinn's hair. Luckily, it wasn't hard, and they found themselves at the waiting process again in no time, Brittany setting the timer and Santana running downstairs to grab some snacks, saying that the whole process was taking too long. She came back with no snacks and a pout. Maribel had shooed her out of the kitchen and scolded her for even attempting to spoil her appetite for dinner.
Rachel held Quinn's hand for a second time as Brittany rinsed and repeated and Santana again took great satisfaction with rubbing Quinn's head with a towel.
When Quinn was again visible all three girls fussed and admired Quinn's damp mane of blonde hair. It was the first time since freshman year that Rachel had seen Quinn's hair blonde, and for the first time Rachel actually got to truly appreciate Quinn's beautiful blonde locks. Quinn looked like a grumpy, wet lion. Beautiful and fierce, with pink-tinted cheeks and dodging hazel eyes as her friends admired her.
Rachel almost regretted having to put pink dye back into Quinn's hair, she was so lovely without it, but Quinn insisted. So one last time they pulled out the dye and brush and Rachel very carefully painted Quinn's underlays pink, confining the color treatment to the hair at the base of Quinn's neck. It was going to be subtle, the way that Rachel painted it, but it would be cute. Rachel already knew it would suit Quinn nicely. Pink would peak out from under Quinn's earlobes and through the blonde at the back of Quinn's head. It wouldn't be overwhelming, like her hair had been before, but it would still give Quinn that edge to let people know to stay back, like the tints of a colorful poisonous frog.
And one last time, Quinn ducked her head under the sink to let Brittany wash her hair. Quinn's grip was still tight on Rachel, but their fingers threaded together and the tightness of Quinn's face relaxed.
I was going to finish and post this yesterday but got a wicked case of carpal tunnel and couldn't type. Yay, sleepover fun! They're gonna get more serious next chapter and try to follow up on what they'd planned last chapter, but this chapter I let them have fun. :P
Also I know I compressed the process of hair dyeing in this chapter, but I wanted them to be able to do it so I said screw the rules. (and yes, I wikihowed how to dye hair).
Also thank you for 100 reviews!