"Go for the Puckster!"

Even in a panicked state, Santana paused for a second at Noah's greeting. "You're so freaking lame, Puck."

She could hear him ease into a more comfortable position. "You love me. What's up?"

Santana remembered her reason for calling, and was back to feeling panicky. "I think I broke my wife. How do I fix her?"

"It's only been a month! What the hell did you do, Lopez?" Puck demanded.

Santana contemplated Puck's words and the way he was talking. "You don't have a shirt on, do you?" she concluded.

"I'm off of work, I'm in my house, relaxing." The way he said it made her wonder if Shelly said the same thing to him.

"Eww…gross, go…put a shirt on!"

"Are youkidding? You can't even see me!"

"I can't have a serious conversation with you when you're half naked. Put a shirt on!"

"Fuck, San, you're being ridiculous."

"Shirt, Puck!"

Puck sat the phone down muttering about serving his country and crazy married bitches before he picked the phone back up again a minute later. "Are you happy?"

Santana studied his statement to make sure. "Yes."

"Need I remind you that we've seen each other's pleasure gardens before? Several times. And had our mouths-"

"Puck, please shut it before I lose my lunch, and seriously, pleasure gardens? Who says that?"

"Shelly," Puck said defensively, "and it's kind of sexy. Specially when she's whispering it in this kind of low voice, and nibbling on my ear,"

"Puck, I do not need to hear about your vanilla sex life!"

"God, you're no fun since you got married. Now what the hell did you do to my baby mama?"

"I didn't do anything!" Santana said desperately. "Well, not anything that's like different from the things that I normally do. So I really need you to do your thing where you explain women to me, cause I'm just so fucking confused right now. I don't know what the hell is wrong with her. I mean things were going so well lately. The sex is great, we've been migrating things to each other places, we went grocery shopping together the other day, and we were having fun together, and then she just like…flipped or something.

"The other day I got home from work, and Quinn's just naked and waiting for me. Butt naked, like no clothes anywhere. And then she just like slams me onto the table, and like just attacks me. It was crazy; like she was a tiger or something," her fingers curled into claws and she swiped at the air, even though Noah couldn't see her, "oh or one of those monkeys, the Bonobo."

"Aren't they chimps?"

"Like seriously, Puck? I'm trying to tell you something. She attacked me, we had like…monkey sex, and then she had dinner waiting for me! The day before that, she told me I didn't have to put the groceries away, and she screwed me up against the door, and then handed me a beer."

Santana could practically hear Noah trying not to conjure up a visual of that situation. "Umm…dude, not seeing where there's a problem."

"Does thatsoundlike Quinn to you? I mean sure she's a secret closet freak, and once she was dressed up like a sexy school teacher and she totally punished me, but that's not like this. When I tried to return the favor, she wouldn't let me. She hasn't letmetouchher, and she doesn't want to cuddle with me, but she keeps on doing these really nice, passive aggressive things for me."

"You must have done something to really piss her off," he decided.

Santana peeked over the couch forgetting that she was alone in the apartment. Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. "This isn't Quinn pissed. Trust me, I know Quinn pissed. We haven't had Quinn pissed off sex. I haven't felt her slapping genius across my face."

Noah was quiet, thinking about it. "What's the last thing that you did, you know like that you remember?"

"I don't know! Like I said, we went grocery shopping together, and that was nice, and we were supposed to go to my place after, but we went back to hers instead, and I think she was talking about the reception, and then she went out with her coworkers, and the next thing I know: broken. You know: she did come home smelling like some chintzy body wash or cologne that smells like douchebag, pretension, and desperation, so it has to belong to like one of her coworkers who she went out drinking with. I didn't say anything to her about it, but-" Santana gasped. "Do you think that she made out with one of her coworkers? Do you think she cheated and she's like doing all of this out of guilt?" She didn't like the sound of his silence. "That's it, isn't it? She cheated on me!"

"Oh, shit, don't go all emotional on me, San. I get enough female emotion from the wife, man up!" Puck felt like he had a sudden brain fart. "Hold on a sec before you go all off on the deep end. What did you say to her about the reception?"

Santana had to stop in her freak out. "What do you mean what did I say? Who cares about the reception? Quinn'scheating!"

"Quinn's not cheating; you're just an idiot, Lopez."

"Harsh, bro!"

"No, listen, I went through this with Shelly. She just kept going on, and on, and on about lavender table cloths, and I was just like what the fuck do I care what color the table cloths are, and then she just had a freak out, and next thing I know, she's talking about canceling the wedding. Quinn wants lavender table cloths," he finished knowingly. If she had been there to see it, he would have gave his head a nod.

"See I told you back in high school that all that weed that you smoked was going to kill your brain cells but you didn't listen."

"Listen, Flopez, this is pure wisdom here: Shelly didn't want me to want lavender table cloths, she wanted me to care. Like lavender table cloths are a euthanized of our relationship."

"A euphemism?"

"Yea. Like it's supposed to mean that since I don't care about the table cloths, I don't care about the wedding, and if I don't care about the wedding, I don't care aboutus." Santana imagined Puck shaking his head. "I don't get it either, but that was just how she was feeling."

"Yeah, but the big difference here is that Quinn and I are already married, Puck, so it's not like she has to doubt that I'm actually going to show up or anything. I already showed up."

"Yeah, and how many other dudes out there showed up and then ended the marriage a couple of years later? Women like Quinn, it's not enough for you to just show up once. You gotta keep showing up if you want her to think that you care."

Santana hated that Noah was making so much sense. It kind of felt like a sin against nature.

"Idocare. Not about napkins, and invitations, or anything like that, that's just dumb. Everything's going to end up in the trashcan 10 minutes after the reception is over so I don't get the point of getting worked up about them, which is why I just want to leave the details to her and my mom so I don't impede her enthusiasm. She didn't get the big wedding so I want Quinn to have her perfect reception. I've known her since we were tweens; I know how much she wants all that girly type stuff, even though she tries to pretend that she's like the non-girly one. I just want her to have a special day the way she wants it."

"And did you say that to her?"

Santana nodded vigorously. "I told her it's whatever she wants."

She heard shuffling in the background. "You also got married to her so you could beat me to the altar. Just curious. Does sheknowabout the bet?" Santana bit down on her lip. "Are you a moron, Lopes? And you call me dumb!"

Santana shifted on the couch indignantly. "You're telling me Shelly doesn't know about it?"

"Well, yeah, I told her like two years ago. You know, just casual conversation when we were getting to know each other. As we were falling in love with each other, planning our lives together, that sort of thing. She knows that I didn't marry her over a bet."

"Okay, so I might have married her because of the bet, but I'm here now, right, and I proposed with my abuela's ring, she knows that it's a family ring, and I gave her four orgasms when I gave it to her.Four, Noah! I even told her she could have the driveway parking space."

"Shit you gave her the driveway?" She could tell Noah was impressed.

"I know, right! If that doesn't say love, I don't know what does!"

It seemed fairly foolproof to Noah, but women complicated things. "You know how Quinn is. She doesn't believe things right away, so you have to show her. That's the only way she'll believe it."

Santana sat in silence for a minute, thinking. She might have come out of nowhere with the proposal, yeah, but she was committed to it, to them. Once upon a time they had been really good friends. So what if the friendship had sort of died off with the integration of sex; they had been friends for a reason, andnotjust because they were too gorgeous, conniving, self-serving bitches. "Well, I've got an ace or two I can play, but if I trot it out now I've got nothing for the rest of our marriage." She stopped because something occurred to her. "Wait, I think I've got an idea!"

"That could be dangerous, Santana. What is it?"

"Quinn want's excitement, I'll show her excitement. Like Tom Cruise flipping his nuts in front of Oprah excitement."

Noah only laughed because he was sure that whatever it was Santana was thinking about was about to turn into a royal mess. He only hated that he didn't have a front row seat to it.

Santana eagerly stopped the car outside of the studio building. She reached for Quinn's hand. "Are you ready?"

Quinn's eyes looked up in appraisal of the building in front of them, of the identical buildings that were around them. "Why are we here again?"

Santana tugged on her arm until she was looking at her. "So you can't back out of the reception," she teased. Santana hesitated a moment before leaning over the console and planting a kiss on Quinn's lips. "We're doing this because I'm excited about the reception, and I want to share it with our world."

Quinn almost smiled but caught herself before she did. "Really?"

"Yep. So let's do this!"

Santana released Quinn's hand only long enough for the two of them to get out of the car, before she was once again securing her hand in her own. "She's not going to ask us anything ridiculous is she?"

"Nah. We're just there to mention our reception, which all of the Glee kids will see, and then we'll stay for some chat and to listen to some music. That's it."

The two of them checked in with security, got their passes, and were led onto the set. There was a loud squeal from the other side of the set, and moments later Santana felt herself being lifted into the air by deceptively strong arms. "San!" she was replaced on the ground, only for Quinn to be hugged tightly. "I'm so glad you came! Are you exited? Guess who's here: Samilia Rose! You want to meet her? She's in the green room?"

"Samilia?" Quinn questioned, just as excited. "I would love to, I love her music!"

"She'll be on set as soon as you guys are done, and I'll introduce you, yah? Oh, you two have to go to hair and make-up, so they can glam you up, and then you just come back here, and sit down. We'll chat for a second, and then we'll get started." There was one last squeal. "I'm so glad you're here!" A kiss was placed on Santana's cheek before they were led away.

30 minutes later they were being brought back out to the main set. A production assistant showed them to their seats. Quinn and Santana were seated on opposite sides of the table, with about five feet left between them. Santana moved to move the chairs closer together, but was stopped. "It's got to be set up that way for camera angels," she was informed.

"What about if we sit on the same side?" Santana questioned. She knew that Quinn was nervous, so she wanted to be close to her to set her mind at ease. She'd never done one of these before.

"Can't, it throws the whole feel off." Brittany winked at Santana. "Don't worry, you can get your hands on her soon enough. So are you guys ready?"

There was no other warning before the theme music was blasted on the speakers.

"Fondue for Two, Fondue for Two, that's one hot dish, Fondue for Two!"

Brittany smiled at the center camera. "Welcome back to Fondue for Two! My next guests are two former Cheerios and 2/3rds of the Unholy Trinity who pretended to hate each other in high school in an attempt to hide their obvious sexual tension, finally slept with each other at their former teacher's failed wedding after graduation, and then didn't talk to each other for a few months while one of them pretended to like men, and the other hooked up with me all over the Greek Isle! Welcome Santana Lopez and Quinn Fabray!"

"Lopez," Santana mumbled automatically before she cast a glance at Quinn, who looked like she was hoping that she could disappear. "Britt, I thought we agreed that you wouldn't mention anything like that while we were on the air."

Brittany smiled sweetly at the camera. "I know of no such agreements." She turned towards Quinn. "Quinn, is it true you made up a story about having sex with your professor just to make Santana jealous, and then slapped her when she rained down her supreme, awesome, harsh words of truth on you because all you really wanted to do was push her into the piano and ravish her, but you didn't have the guts to do so?"

"Brittany!" Quinn hissed, blushing red.

"What?" Brittany questioned innocently. "It's okay because Santana and I weren't dating at the time. Also, is it true that you use Santana and my sex tape as "spank bank" and secretly fantasize about us having a threesome?"

"Oh, okay," Santana said, shifting in her seat and glad that there was space between all three of them, because even though it meant that she couldn't place a reassuring hand on top of Quinn's, it also meant that Quinn couldn't tackle Brittany. "Enough of that, Britt," Santana said quickly, firmly. She leaned in towards Quinn and softly whispered, "Babe, is that true?"

Brittany smiled at the middle camera. "I have it on good authority that it is," she asserted at the same time that Quinn gave a helpless chuckle. "Ummm…help?"

Santana looked to the camera. This was definitely not going the way she'd wanted it to. "As interesting as that may or may not be, we're not here to discuss our sex lives, Britt. We decided to come on the show tonight to share with you, and the rest of our friends," she waved to indicate the camera, "and of course your viewers, the news that Quinn and I have decided to get married, and next month we're having a reception to celebrate the big moment with all of you!"

"Umm…yes," Quinn chimed in, still obviously flustered. "Invitations will be in the mail on Monday, but we, umm…we came, here, to share that, some fondue, and to dish."

Brittany clapped. "So invitations should be making their way to your home within the next five to seven days, and if you don't receive one, it's because you're not important enough," Brittany chirped. "I will, of course, be sharing the best clips with you, so even if you're not there, it'll still feel like you were!" Quinn fiddled with the fondue just to have something to do. She may have even nervously eaten some of it if Santana didn't stop her. "You'll really hate yourself if you do that," she hissed.

Around them Brittany was still talking. "And you're really going to want to see them because a Santana Lopez party is going to be justawesome, 'cause Sannie knows how to really throw a party! You remember the one you threw in Mykonos?" She turned to one of the side cameras. "Fun fact, guys, the word debauchery comes from the Greek god Bacchus who is the god of having a really," she winked at Santana, "reallygood time. Also,neverget locked up abroad.

"And speaking of good times, what Hollywood princess got caught with her hand in the cookie jar? Literally?" Brittany continued with insider gossip for the next ten minutes before teasing her audience about who her next guest would be. Quinn chimed in, but her mind was definitely not with them, and she looked incredibly flushed by the time that they were given the signal that they were no longer filming.

Quinn didn't hesitate to jump out of her seat as soon as the light went off. Santana got up, too, in case Quinn was going to jump on Brittany, though she had every mind to let her if she did. In less than five minutes Britt had ruined her perfectly constructed plan. Brittany's next guest, Samile Rose, who was now waiting in the wings, had been her initial reason for wanting to do the show. Santana knew how much Quinn loved Samile, and she was going to see (plead, beg) if Samile could be convinced to perform at their reception. She had intended to mention it while they were filming, and get Brittany in on it, too, but as soon as Brittany had given the introduction, all thoughts of that had gone out of her mind as one of her best friends' snowballed her in front of a national audience.

As soon as Santana realized that Quinn wasn't going to attack, she moved to comfort her wife. "Are you okay?" she questioned of Quinn, concern in her voice.

Quinn nodded, dazed, not looking at Santana. "Yeah."

She kissed her on the forehead, rubbing a soothing hand down her back. "Why don't you go sit in the car? I'll be right out, okay babe?"

Quinn nodded. Once she was gone, Santana stalked back to the middle of the set, battling scenes of nostalgia as she moved. TheFondueset was set-up to look like a mockup of Brittany's old bedroom back in Lima. In collegeFondue for Twohad emerged from a McKinley High thing, to an actual internet sensation. Now the show was filmed on a studio set, she had a hair, make-up, and costume team, she had corporate sponsors, a set upgrade, the works, (but as a running gag the fondue was just as bad now as it had been back in high school). BetweenFondue for Two, and the dance studio, Brittany was surprisingly doing quite well for herself; without Santana's help. Santana loved that. She had enjoyed watching Brittany grow (and grow up). After their brief Greek reconnection, they had gone their separate ways, but had remained on good terms ever since. At least that's what Santana had thought.

Brittany was at the moment surrounded by an assistant and her stylist who was attempting to refresh her hair, but the second she noticed Santana she waved them both away. Santana scowled, stopping a few feet short of Brittany, a little worried to be any closer to her because she wasn't sure what she would do. "Thanks for coming on again," she said airily "it was like spending time with each other back in high school again, wasn't it? Don't you miss it, San?"

Santana fought against her rising anger. "Brittany, that was sonotcool. Do you realize that you completely embarrassed Quinn? Your friend."

Brittany smiled as she rolled her eyes. "Hey, if you can't handle the fire, stay out of the Fondue pot."

Santana appraised Brittany's aloof attitude and flippant comment. Where had that come from? Certainly it hadn't been there at either her or Puck's wedding so where was it coming from, and why now? "Is something going on that you aren't telling me about, Britt? Like did I forget a birthday or something?"

Brittany's lips thinned into a line. "What're you doing, Santana?" she demanded, disapproval was evident in her voice.

"What do you mean what am I doing?"

"You're in love with Quinn." It sounded to her a lot like an accusation.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Brittany pouted. "You promised that you would always love me most."

Brittany's words froze Santana on the spot, not sure that she had entirely heard her correctly. Had Brittany actually said that? She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do with the girl in this situation. At one point, Santana had been so very sure that Brittany had been the love of her life. When they were in high school, she always imagined that she would just follow Brittany wherever the girl would lead, sacrificing whatever dream she may have come up with in order to help Brittany with her own.

Santana's eyes narrowed. "So you just embarrassed your friend in front of our friends and your viewers because you're jealous that I'm with Quinn, and you decided right then that you want to stake a claim? How long have Quinn and I been sleeping together, Britt? You came to our wedding, and you wait until now to say something? In case you forgot, you're married, and so am I. That promise I made to you ended a long time ago, Britt. I will always love you, and I want to always be your friend, besties for life and all that, but Quinn is my wife. Not my girlfriend, my wife. If you ever pull something like this-"

Brittany rolled her eyes, smiling at Santana in a way that had always gotten her to fall into bed with her back in high school. She stalked towards Santana. "Comeon, San." She batted her eyelashes. "You and I both know that what we have is magic and no one will ever compare to what we have. You made a bet with Puck, and you won," she clapped, "yea…congratulations, but let's not kid ourselves that you're doing anything other than playing at a marriage with Quinn. As soon as you get bored, you'll come back to me like you always do. So let's be honest with each other, cause it makes me sad when you lie." Brittany's hand moved to stroke her cheek tenderly before she pressed a kiss onto Santana's lips. It was over before Santana even had a chance to react. "We both know you'll always belong to me, so don't be stupid and wait too long to come to your senses."

Brittany skipped back to the center of the set and sat down in her seat, cuing to the producer that she was ready for her next guest.