Got You (Where I Want You) (Quinn/Rachel) (Santana/Brittany)
Title: Got You (Where I Want You)
Pairings: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez/Brittany Pierce
Rating: R (for language)
Length: ~5700 words
Spoilers: Through 2x20, "Prom Queen." I have set this fic immediately after that episode in an attempt to purge the Finndickery in "Funeral" from my mind.
Summary: Rachel, Quinn, Santana and Brittany get locked in a classroom after school hours. They're caged, y'all! This story may or may not unfold like the movie Alive. (Spoiler: It does not.)
Disclaimer: If I owned these characters, you would be watching this instead of reading it.
Author’s note: I refer to this as my Caged/Detention/Castaways/For Tonight You're Only Here to Know/Breakfast Club fic. If you get all of those references (that last one is obviously a freebie), you are clearly my soulmate and we should get married immediately. Fic title is from The Flys - Got You (Where I Want You). As usual, thank you to thememoriesfire for proofreading and suggestions!
"Okay, guys," Mr. Schuester said, clapping his hands as the glee club members took their seats. "Great job on that song. Now we're going to take the last fifteen minutes of practice to discuss our choreography for Nationals. I was thinking that Brittany and Mike could lead us in- Santana, could you put your phone away and pay attention, please?"
"No," Santana drawled, typing away with her thumbs.
"What could possibly be more important than discussing Nationals right now?"
"I'm sexting Karofsky," Santana said, offhandedly, not looking up from her phone.
Behind her, Brittany snorted, and Santana stiffened. "Do you have a problem?" she asked, turning around.
"Of course not. I totally believe that you and Karofsky have sex all the time."
"You're just jealous that I'm the one with a boyfriend now, and one I don't even have to squat to kiss," Santana said, turning back around so she wouldn't have to meet Brittany's eye.
"I liked it better when you two were performing angsty sapphic duets," Rachel commented.
"And I liked it better when you came to practice with tape over your mouth, troll," Santana snarled.
"Rachel has a point, though," Quinn interjected. "Not that you were ever nice, Santana, but you've been worse than usual since you stopped... spending time... with Brittany. Why don't you do us all a favor and get back to holding pinkies in the hallway?"
"You just want us to kiss and make up so that you and your ridiculous love triangle with the midget and Frankenteen can be the center of attention again."
"Hey!" Finn objected, but everyone ignored him.
"At least none of us are afraid to go after what we want," Quinn said, icily.
Santana smirked. "Really?" she asked. "Because if that were true, one angle of that triangle wouldn't even be in the picture, and I think you and I both know which one I mean."
"Why are they arguing about shapes?" Brittany whispered to Tina.
Quinn clenched her hands into fists as she glared at Santana. "You need to stop talking right now."
"Or what?" Santana stood up, bristling.
"That's enough!" Mr. Schuester said, loudly, amidst a chorus of "oooooh"s from the rest of the club.
"Oh, now you're going to intervene?" Quinn asked, glaring at him.
"Seriously," Santana remarked.
"We're supposed to be a family," Schue said, "and you girls are threatening to unravel everything we've put together days before our biggest competition ever."
"Maybe you should write 'family' on the whiteboard in all-caps," Quinn said, her arms crossed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "That should make everything better."
Mr. Schue shook his head with a sigh. "No," he said. "You need to work this out on your own. I want the four of you to go, right now, and come up with a number about friendship and teamwork. You'll perform it for the rest of us tomorrow."
Rachel jumped up. "I have the perfect song," she exclaimed. She skipped for the door, the others trailing behind her.
Schue held out his hand for Santana's cell phone as she passed, and she handed it over, reluctantly.
"You can have this back after you perform," he said. "Maybe that will motivate you to take the assignment seriously."
"Whatever," she said. "This whole tough guy act doesn't suit you, by the way. Your hair is much too effeminate."
"Let's get this over with," Quinn said, once they were all gathered in the hallway. "Where should we go?"
"We can use the divination classroom," Brittany suggested. "There's never anybody in there."
"Do you mean the astronomy classroom?" Rachel asked, amused.
"Whatever. At least there's no chance of anyone seeing us together in there," Santana said, leading the way.
The girls filed into the room and Brittany closed the door behind them before perching expectantly on the edge of a desk.
"Okay. We're going to sing 'Wind Beneath My Wings,'" Rachel said, excitedly. "I'll take lead, of course, and the rest of you can back me up-"
"We are not singing that song," Santana said.
Rachel pouted. "I thought you might feel that way," she said, "so in the spirit of democracy, I have selected two other, more populist choices: The Beatles' 'With a Little Help From My Friends' and The Rembrandts' 'I'll Be There for You.' We will now commence voting. All in favor of The Beatles?"
"I want to sing a Spice Girls song," Brittany said.
"That's not one of the choices."
"I don't want to sing anything with her," Quinn said, crossing her arms, glaring at Santana.
"Why, just because you can't handle me keepin' it real?"
"That's rich, coming from you. Why don't you tell us again how much you love Karofsky?"
"You should talk, Fabray," Santana hissed. "I think you love your boyfriend about as much as I do mine."
"Of course I love Finn."
"Oh yeah? Why? What's so great about him? Is it his awesome dancing? Or his glorious man-boobs? Or the way he abandoned you at prom to fight over the dwarf here?"
"He apologized for that. He said he just couldn't stand to see Jesse taking advantage of anyone in the glee club."
"And you believed him? God, Quinn, you're supposed to be the one who makes up lame lies about hot tubs and gumballs, not the one who falls for even lamer ones."
Quinn glared at her. "He loves me," she said. "He told me I'm the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. He chose the perfect corsage for me, too, for prom. The ribbon matched my eyes."
Rachel was watching Quinn and Santana, her eyes bouncing between them as they volleyed insults, but Brittany was watching Rachel.
"Rachel, why are you chewing on your lip like that?" she asked. "Are you hungry? I think I have some Dots in my bag if you want them."
Santana turned to look at Rachel. "She looks like she's actually trying to hold back words," she remarked. "Does anyone have a camera? Because nobody's going to believe this."
"Do you have something to add to the conversation?" Quinn asked, icily. Rachel shook her head, but Quinn could see something in her eyes -- pity, almost, or regret -- and she suddenly knew.
"Finn didn't choose that corsage, did he," she said, dully. Rachel shook her head again, almost imperceptibly.
"Don't tell me you picked it out," Santana said, delighted, "because that would just be too perfect."
"Why would you do that?" Quinn asked, when Rachel didn't deny it.
"Oh my God. Can you two not see yourselves?" Santana exclaimed. "When are you going to wake the hell up and realize that neither of you cares about that spineless man-baby? You're just using him to get to-"
"You are a hypocrite, and I'm not listening to this," Quinn interrupted, striding to the door. She grabbed the handle and attempted to turn it, but it wouldn't budge. Frustrated, Quinn put both hands on the handle and leaned all of her weight against it, but the door still wouldn't open.
"For fuck's sake," Santana said, elbowing Quinn out of the way and trying, unsuccessfully, to turn the handle before kicking the door in disgust. "It's locked," she confirmed.
"What about the door to outside?" Rachel asked, pointing across the room. Brittany ran to the door and pushed on it. "Nope, locked tight," she reported.
"We'll just call someone," Quinn said, looking at Santana.
"Why are you looking at me? Schuester took my phone, remember?"
"Well, I left mine in my locker."
"I don't have a cell phone," Rachel said. "My dads think excessive socialization would interfere with my studies. And until recently, I didn't have anyone to call, anyway."
They all looked to Brittany. "I left my phone at home today," she said. "Lord Tubbington needed to make some calls."
Quinn scanned the room. "There's a computer over there; we could message someone," she said.
"Figgins had it disconnected it from the Internet when he found out that Jacob Ben-Israel was sneaking in here to jack off to Rachel's MySpace videos," Santana replied, smirking at the brunette's horrified look.
"We could take the door off its hinges. Does anyone have a screwdriver?" Rachel asked, eyeing Brittany's large shoulder bag.
"Why would I have a screwdriver? I'm not a plumber."
"The only useful thing we could do with a screwdriver is stab you," Santana said to Rachel. "The hinges are on the other side of the door."
"Get out of the way," Quinn said, pushing past the other girls, fishing a nail file out of her bag. She bent down and fiddled with the door handle for a moment before reluctantly straightening back up. "I can't pick this kind of lock," she admitted, unhappily.
Rachel pounded on the door. "HELLO!" she yelled. "IS ANYONE OUT THERE? I AM TRAPPED IN THE ASTRONOMY CLASSROOM AND REQUIRE ASSISTANCE IMMEDIATELY." She waited a moment, but no one materialized. "Maybe I should sing my request for help," she said. "My voice carries much better in song."
Santana shook her head in disgust before unplugging the floor lamp and picking it up. "Looks like we're going to have to smash our way out," she said, raising the lamp above her head and banging it, hard, against the window. It simply bounced back, so she hit the window again, and again, but she couldn't even make a crack.
Santana scowled and set the lamp back in its place. "Brittany, help me pick up that desk. We are going to break this window."
"I'm pretty sure that's not going to work," Quinn said. "There's about three layers of really thick glass there."
"Well then, if we're actually trapped in here, what the fuck are we going to do?" Santana asked, sinking to the floor. "And don't even say 'sing,' Oompa-Loompa, or I will cut you."
"We can play a game! How about 'I spy?'" Brittany exclaimed. "I'll go first." She nonchalantly eyed the ceiling. "I spy, with my little eye, something that is... round."
"Mercury?" Rachel asked.
"No! But close."
"Okay, this is lame," Santana interrupted. She jumped up and strode to the file cabinet, opening each door and rifling through messy piles of paper. "Yesssss," she said, as she reached to the back of the bottom drawer, withdrawing a large bottle of vodka.
"What?" she said, off the other girls' looks. "We all know Ms. Castle is an alcoholic. Of course she has a stash."
"We promised Mr. Schue we wouldn't drink again until after Nationals," Quinn protested.
"Who's going to tell him? Besides, it's not like we can drink and drive in here."
Santana found some beakers in a cupboard and set them in the middle of the floor in a circle. She pushed a couple of desks away before sitting down, motioning for the others to join her.
"We're going to play my favorite drinking game, 'I Never,'" she said, as they settled in.
"I don't know that game," Rachel said.
"Shocker. It's easy, though. We take turns making statements that start with 'I Never,' like, 'I never brushed my beaver in the choir room-'"
"That's grammatically incorrect. It should be 'I've never.'"
"-and then whoever has done that thing has to take a drink," Santana finished, ignoring Rachel.
Brittany grabbed the bottle and took a swig.
"We're not playing yet, Britt," Santana said, laughing. "But just for that, you get to go first." She poured a generous amount of vodka into each beaker before looking at Brittany expectantly.
"Okay. I never kissed a girl," Brittany said. She and Santana both drank, and so did Rachel.
"What? I was five," Rachel said, when she saw the surprised look on Quinn's face. "I was playing house with my friend, and I have always striven for realism in my performances."
"I'm just surprised that you had a friend," Quinn said, dismissively.
"My turn," Santana said. "I never had sex in a hammock." She and Brittany smirked at each other before both taking another drink.
Rachel was next. "I've never fantasized about Mr. Schuester," she said, grinning, and she and Brittany both tossed back another mouthful of vodka as Santana and Quinn wrinkled their noses in disgust.
"Ugh. Please tell me he wasn't wearing a vest in your fantasies, at least," Santana said.
"He wasn't wearing anyth-" Brittany started, but the other girls' groans drowned her out.
"Quinn, your turn," Santana said.
"I never dated a gay guy," Quinn said, watching as the others drank.
"You picked something you haven't even done? You are no fun at all, Fabray," Santana said.
"Wait, Sam's not gay?" Brittany asked.
"Quinn hasn't had a single drink yet," Rachel pointed out, ignoring Quinn's glare.
"And if we want her to, we'll have to resort to questions like 'I never prayed' or 'I never got knocked up,'" Santana said, "and then I won't get to drink at all. Clearly we need to change games. Truth or Dare, anyone?"
Brittany squealed and actually clapped her hands. Quinn shifted uncomfortably.
"What's the matter, Quinn?" Santana asked. "Afraid of the truth? You'd better pick dare, then, because you're the first victim. What'll it be?"
"Fine. Dare," Quinn said, affecting a bored tone.
"Chug that," Santana said, pointing at Quinn's beaker.
"And if I don't?"
Santana got up, strode over to Ms. Castle's desk, and rummaged in a drawer, returning with a black Sharpie. "If anyone refuses a dare, I hold them down and write 'pussy' on their forehead with this," she threatened.
"You want to be the first to find out?"
Quinn glared at Santana as she chugged the contents of her beaker. "Brittany. Truth or dare?" she asked, once she'd finished gagging.
"When you had... sex, with Artie, how did that... work?"
Brittany glanced at Santana before answering. "It wasn't that different from sex with someone who can walk," she said. "He has strong arms. He could hold himself up over me. Or we could lie on our sides. But he liked when I was on top."
Beside her, Santana scowled and took another shot of vodka. Brittany put a hand on her arm, but she shrugged it off and turned away.
"Santana, truth or dare?" Brittany asked, gently.
"Do you know how much I care about you?"
Santana's shoulders sagged, and she nodded, still not looking at Brittany -- but this time, when Brittany reached out, Santana took her hand.
"Aww!" Rachel exclaimed, involuntarily, before clapping both hands over her mouth as Santana turned to glare at her.
"Rachel, since you apparently can't stand not being the center of attention for more than two minutes... truth or dare?"
"Truth," Rachel said.
"Who do you think is the hottest girl in this room?"
Rachel actually made a show of looking each of them up and down, stroking an invisible beard, pretending to ponder, as Brittany laughed and struck various sexy poses for her. But Rachel's voice was almost shy when she finally said, "Quinn."
Quinn blushed, slightly, and looked down at the floor.
Rachel hesitated for a moment before asking, "Quinn. Truth or dare?"
"Truth," Quinn said, quietly.
"How... how far have you gone with Finn?"
Quinn raised her head and glared at Rachel. "Why do you always torture yourself by asking me things like that?"
"Answer the question," Santana interjected. Quinn sighed.
"I let him feel me up," she said, "under my shirt. And I let him grind on me until he... you know. Came. Which took about 20 seconds." She wrinkled her nose. "Are you happy now?"
Santana was eyeing Quinn, a sly look on her face. "And how far have you fantasized about going with Rachel, here?" she asked.
Quinn's eyes widened, but only for a split second. "It's not your turn to ask a question," she said, staring Santana down.
"You're not even going to deny it, huh?"
"I'm not going to dignify it with a response," Quinn said, sitting up straighter, her nose in the air. Beside her, Rachel looked like she was trying to decide whether to be intrigued or insulted.
"If you say so."
Quinn waved a hand at Santana, dismissively. "Santana. Truth or dare?" she asked.
"Are you attracted to Rachel? Because you certainly sounded like a groupie during her little performance with Blaine at her party."
Santana's eyes narrowed, but she recovered quickly. "Maybe, when I'm drunk, I'm not completely repulsed by her," she said, coolly. "Beer goggles, or whatever."
"I think Rachel's pretty, even when I'm sober," Brittany remarked. "Her legs are, like, super long, even though she's short. And her hair looks soft, like a bunny. I kind of want to pat it."
"God, Britt, don't say that kind of shit out loud," Santana said. "If the Munchkin's ego gets any bigger, it'll smother everyone in this room."
"You think I'm pretty?" Rachel asked the room at large, wonderingly. Brittany nodded, but the others ignored her, too intent on baiting each other.
"Quinn," Santana said with a smirk. "Should I ask you that question again? Or will you go with a dare?"
"Dare," Quinn said, holding her head high. The girls all knew what Santana was going to say, and Quinn seemed determined to rise to the challenge. But-
"I dare you to kiss Brittany," Santana said.
None of them were expecting that. Rachel stared hard at Santana, as if she was trying to figure something out. Quinn scrunched up her forehead and looked from Santana to Brittany to Rachel, and then back to Santana, her expression a question.
"Don't you mean 'kiss Rachel'?" Brittany asked.
"Okay," Brittany agreed, scooting across the floor, sliding a hand behind Quinn's neck. She smiled, reassuringly, and Quinn leaned forward and kissed her, softly. Brittany kissed her back, languidly, skillfully, and Quinn visibly relaxed, moving her hands to Brittany's shoulders, melting into the kiss.
Santana's smile faltered, just a little, as she watched the blondes. She turned to look at Rachel instead, noting the girl's clenched jaw, her hands twisted in her lap, the way her eyes didn't stray from Quinn's face. By the time the girls had pulled apart, Santana's smirk was once again firmly in place.
Quinn looked over at Santana, defiantly. "Truth or dare?" she asked.
"I dare you to kiss Rachel," Quinn said, immediately looking like she regretted suggesting such a thing.
Santana shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I've had enough vodka for that," she said. Before Rachel had time to react, Santana had grabbed her and was kissing her, zealously, her hand tangled in Rachel's hair. Rachel, never one to resist putting her all into any given situation, kissed Santana back, hard, closing her eyes, wrapping her arms around Santana's neck. Santana looked past Rachel at Quinn, who was shifting uncomfortably, eye twitching.
Santana released Rachel, laughing as the brunette leaned against the nearest desk, trying to catch her breath.
"Why are you squirming, Fabray?" Santana asked, innocently. "Did watching that make you uncomfortable, for some reason?"
"No! I mean, I am uncomfortable, but just because I... I need a bathroom," Quinn said, too quickly.
"There's a sink right over there," Santana said, pointing.
"I can't go in a sink," Quinn said, horrified.
"Yes you can! Just pretend it's a toilet. That's what I always do," Brittany said.
"Go on, Q; we won't look," Santana told her, and the girls all turned their backs to Quinn.
Quinn eyed the sink, dubiously, but her refusal to let Santana win and her legitimate urge to pee won out over her modesty, so she hoisted herself up.
"I don't hear anything!" Santana chided, after 30 seconds had passed. "You're not pee shy, are you?"
"Excuse me if I don't have a lot of experience peeing in a sink. And stop listening!"
"Turn on the water; that always makes me have to go. Or we could make some noise if you like," Brittany suggested. Next to her, Rachel grinned.
"And I don't understand, why I sleep all day, and I start to complain that there's no rain," she sang.
Quinn laughed, despite herself, as Brittany and Santana joined in. "And all I can do is read a book to stay awake, and it rips my life away, but it's a great escape."
The three girls got into it, harmonizing on the chorus, and when Quinn had finished up and joined them, they all started dancing around the room, jumping clumsily on and off of chairs, spreading their arms wide as they sang. After "No Rain" came "Have You Ever Seen the Rain," and then "Here Comes the Rain Again," and then Rachel and Quinn were swaying precariously on a desk, harmonizing on "I Love a Rainy Night" as Brittany and Santana danced around them.
Brittany twirled Santana, then pulled her in close, bending to kiss her. Santana's eyes widened and she pulled away, and Brittany's face fell.
Quinn and Rachel, halfway through the chorus, trailed off. They climbed off the desk, Quinn patting Brittany's arm reassuringly while Rachel studied Santana's face.
"What are you so scared of?" Rachel asked.
"That's none of your business," Santana said. "Stop sticking your giant nose where it doesn't belong."
Rachel, as usual, ignored her. "It's obvious to everyone with half a brain that you'd rather be with her than with Karofsky," she said, "so why don't you just admit it and let yourself be happy?"
"That's easy for you to say," Santana said. "You don't care what people think."
"And you do?" Rachel looked surprised. "You're one of the toughest girls in school."
"Are you kidding? This is the girl who left the choir room in tears after you insinuated she'd end up a stripper," Quinn pointed out.
Rachel looked chagrined. "Oh, right. I'm sorry about that," she said, softly.
"Don't be. I've said much worse to you," Santana replied, "and that's my point. You don't care. You still walk around, dressing like an American Girl doll, taking Slushies to the face, ignoring everything people say about you. I can't do that."
"I cry in the bathroom sometimes," Rachel said. Santana's eyes widened in surprise.
"I didn't know," Quinn said, softly, reaching out as if to touch Rachel's arm before thinking better of it and dropping her hand back to her side, staring down at the floor.
"I'm not looking for sympathy. I'm just saying... high school's not easy for anybody. You can't make the bad stuff go away, but if you focus on what you really want, you can drown everything else out most of the time," Rachel said. "And, clearly, if you work hard enough at acting like the bad things don't get to you, you can convince everyone else that they don't. Maybe you can even convince yourself."
"Fake it until you make it, huh?" Santana asked, wryly.
"Yes. And people look up to you," Rachel continued. "You could change things."
"We could do it together," Brittany said to Santana. "We could make coming out cool, just like I made wearing legwarmers on your arms cool."
"My sexuality is a slightly bigger deal than what's in fashion."
"I know, but-"
Santana shook her head before taking hold of Brittany's wrist and pulling her to the far corner of the classroom.
Santana sat on Ms. Castle's desk, Brittany hovering beside her, waiting for her to speak.
"Britt, you know how I feel about you-"
"Then why won't you be my girlfriend?"
"Because you keep pressuring me to come out to everyone, and I'm just not ready."
"I don't understand why you're not. I'd be proud to be your girlfriend. Are you embarrassed of me?" Brittany asked, softly.
"Of course not."
"Oh. I thought... maybe I'm not smart enough for you, or something."
Santana reached out and took Brittany's hand. "Britt," she said. "You may not be good at math, or baking, but when it comes to the things that really matter, you're the smartest girl I know."
"But you matter more to me than anything, and I don't understand you anymore."
"I don't understand myself most of the time," Santana said. "This is a lot to deal with. It's scary, and it's confusing, and I've had to do it alone."
"But I'm single now and things are still weird between us. You sing me love songs, but you won't kiss me, not even in private," Brittany said. "Why not?"
Santana looked down at her lap. "I don't know," she said. "I guess... now that I've said I love you, I feel like a kiss would mean so much more than it did before."
"That's a good thing," Brittany said, gently, cupping Santana's chin in her hand, raising Santana's face until the other girl's eyes met her own. She moved in until she was standing between Santana's legs, and then she bent down and kissed her.
Their kiss was both familiar and new at the same time; Brittany moved her tongue in the way she knew made Santana's pulse race, and Santana kissed Brittany's neck in the spot she knew made Brittany weak at the knees, but there was a new tenderness between them, a new understanding. Santana pulled Brittany close, like she never again wanted to let her go.
"I can wait for you to be ready," Brittany murmured into Santana's neck. "I love you."
"I love you, too," Santana said, through happy tears.
Quinn and Rachel leaned against the wall in the opposite corner, half-facing each other, watching Santana and Brittany as they talked.
"You know, all of those things I said to Santana... they apply to you, too," Rachel said.
Quinn shook her head. "No. I'm not like her. She's brave, and she has Brittany. She can do this. I can't."
"Well, you don't have to do it alone."
"Why, because I have you? We're not friends, Rachel."
"We could be."
"I don't think that running as the... alternative... senior prom queen candidate with one of McKinley's biggest social pariahs as my only friend would help me finally win."
Rachel frowned. "When are you going to realize that none of that matters?" she asked. "All that matters is your own happiness. Just do what you want."
Quinn sighed. "I thought I'd made this clear, but I guess not, so let me spell it out for you," she said. "I'm not brave."
"Of course you're brave," Rachel said, surprised. "You had a baby, and you made the best choice you could for her future. You survived being kicked out of your home. You're one of the few people I know who has stood up to Sue Sylvester more than once and lived to tell about it. You chose glee over the Cheerios even though it meant your popularity taking a hit. You always call Mr. Schue on his hypocrisy. You were the first person to openly support my brilliant original song idea. You stayed and danced at prom even after... everything. You got your picture taken alone-"
"You pay a lot of attention to what I do," Quinn observed.
"Well, you're... interesting. And frustrating."
"You can't... I just wish you could see yourself the way I see you," Rachel said, suddenly nervous. She steadied herself before continuing, "You're smart, and you're kind -- to Sam, and to Mercedes, and even to me, sometimes. You're relentless when it comes to getting what you want. You're so much more than you know, and if you could only see that, you could be so much more than you think."
Quinn shook her head again. "It's sweet that you think so, but I'm doomed to live my mother's life," she said. "I can't escape that."
"Forget about what you think you can do. What do you want for the future?" Rachel asked.
"That's too big of a question," Quinn said. "We're not all like you, Rachel. We don't all dare to dream big."
"Start smaller, then," Rachel said. "If you could have anything you want, right now, what would it be?"
Quinn looked down and fiddled with the hem of her skirt, twisting a loose thread in her fingers, as a blush crept across her cheeks. "You," she said, so quietly that Rachel could barely hear her.
Rachel reached out and took her hand. "Well, that's not outside the realm of possibility, is it," she said.
Quinn's head snapped back up, and Rachel smiled. "What, did you think I'd never considered it?"
"But you're not..." Quinn trailed off, looking at Rachel's face with a mixture of shock and hope.
"No. Maybe. I don't know. But there's an obvious tension between us, and I can't lie; there have been several times in the past I came close to kissing you," Rachel said.
"Yes. Most recently, when you slapped me in the bathroom. It was so theatrical. If we'd been characters in a play, really the only thing for me to do would have been to slap you back and then kiss you. I only refrained because of the distinct possibility that you'd claw my eyes out. But now that I know you're unlikely to do that..."
Rachel leaned in and pressed her lips to Quinn's.
Quinn shivered just at that; when Rachel's tongue darted out to lick her lips, Quinn almost fell backwards. Rachel laughed, sliding her arms around Quinn's waist, pulling her closer as she deepened the kiss. Quinn slid her hands up Rachel's back and into her hair, closing her eyes, letting the moment consume her.
They pulled apart and stared at each other, breathlessly, cheeks flushed.
"Okay, I want to do that again," Rachel said. "And I don't want to stop doing that."
"Me neither," Quinn agreed, dazed -- and then, remembering herself, "but I can't be your... I mean, you can't expect me to just... come out at school tomorrow."
"Of course not," Rachel replied. "But we can work our way up to that. Besides, if that is any indication" -- she motioned to Santana and Brittany, kissing furiously on the other side of the room -- "McKinley's student body may quickly become desensitized to seeing girls kiss in the hallway."
Brittany sat on the edge of a desk, swinging her legs. Santana lay sprawled beside her, gazing up at Brittany, really smiling for the first time in weeks. On the desk opposite them, Rachel lay with her head in Quinn's lap, eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of Quinn running her fingers through her hair.
"I'm hungry," Brittany said, breaking the comfortable silence. "Do you think BreadstiX is still open?"
"Yeah, for another hour or so, but in case you hadn't noticed, we're kinda trapped in here," Santana replied, lazily.
"No, we're not," Brittany said, hopping down from the desk and heading for the door. She grabbed the handle in both hands, braced her knee against the door frame, and twisted the handle, hard, while jerking it out and up. The door made a loud clicking sound before swinging open.
Rachel, Santana and Quinn stared at Brittany, their faces registering various levels of shock.
"You could have let us out at any time!?" Quinn finally said, her voice so high-pitched it was almost a squeak.
"Yeah. But I thought we needed to talk," Brittany said, shrugging. "And we did, right? Everything's good now."
"You made me pee in a sink!"
"You were playing all of us this whole time? I don't know whether to kiss you or kill you," Santana said as she slid off the desk, but she looked impressed.
"You can start with buying me dinner," Brittany replied, smiling at Santana as they left the room.
"Wait, what about our assignment?" Rachel asked, scampering after them.
"I thought we were doing a Spice Girls song," Brittany said. "We can practice at my house after we eat."
"That wasn't one of my-" Rachel started, but then Quinn caught up to her and slipped her hand into Rachel's, squeezing it, gently, and the brunette just smiled. "Okay," she said.
"Don't think this means we're all friends now," Santana said over her shoulder.
"Whatever you say, buddy," Rachel said. "Hey, do you have a pair of leather pants I could borrow for our Spice Girls performance?"
"They wouldn't fit you, hobbit."
"How about one of your many leather jackets, then, amigo?"
"Shut up," Santana said, but she was obviously trying not to laugh. Brittany grabbed her hand and pulled her back, waiting for the others to catch up. Brittany and Quinn linked arms as Brittany started to sing. "If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends..."
"Make it last forever, friendship never ends," the girls finished, giggling, as they headed out into the night.
Blind Melon - No Rain
CCR - Have You Ever Seen the Rain
Eurythmics - Here Comes the Rain Again
Eddie Rabbitt - I Love a Rainy Night
Spice Girls - Wannabe
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