Glee - Rectified Mistakes Part 2
Title: Rectified Mistakes Part 2
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Quinn/Rachel, minor Santana/Brittany, mention of Quinn/Santana/Brittany
Words: 13,794
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Everything. Up to sectionals
Copyright: I own nothing that Glee people own lol
Warning: Some Dom/Sub play, minor violence (not sexual), cursing, dark content, tad angsty
Summary: Quinn has hit bottom. Time to climb back up again with a little help.
A/N: Ok this is the sequel to Go with the Flow - it took a lot longer than I intended because it became epic lol The ending is a bit open ended and I might continue this sequel with a final one that would become Quinn/Santana/Rachel/Brittany (OT4 love! Hehehe) I hope you all like. If this is at all as popular as the prequel was, then I’ll push to add another chapter to this. But the story is much darker so I don’t know, people might not like it...
“You’re running away? Again?” Rachel’s voice sounded sad and it made Quinn feel like shit.
“I just... wanted to go for a walk.”
“They haven’t been gone half an hour and you’re already trying to get away from me.” When Quinn didn't respond Rachel shrugged, still looking wounded. “Alright. Why would I expect anything else from you.”
Quinn let out a frustrated groan as the diva slammed the door shut to her bedroom. Feeling every bit like an ass she grabbed the car keys and went for the car.
She ran things over in her mind, trying to figure out what to do. Something about Rachel made her feel strange and nervous and she was beginning to suspect its origins. There were a few things she already figured out about their relationship. Never again would she be capable of actively harming the girl. She couldn't bear the thought of others harming Rachel either. What confused and upset her the most was that Rachel was her protector when she felt she should have been the one doing the protecting. She used to have all the power and now she had none to save Rachel with. And when she did have that power she had only used it try and destroy the brunette.
The guilt ate away at her. Rachel was keeping Quinn’s secrets and gave her a home to live in. Hell, Rachel was even protecting Quinn from her own rather blunt personality, allowing Quinn to keep the conversations and interaction to a minimum. Now she was hurting the brunette’s feelings because she couldn't handle her own emotions. When she returned to the house in the evening it was with a DVD, junk food, and a 2 litre bottle of Rachel’s favourite Diet Coke with lime.
“You’re... home?” Rachel raised an eyebrow at Quinn from her textbook on the living room couch. Both of her eyebrows raised even higher when she noted Quinn’s loot.
“I rented Paranormal Activity. I figure we can.... also order a pizza.”
“I have an exam on Tuesday.”
“So?” She tried to cover the disappointment she felt that Rachel would just wave her off like that. “It’s Friday. You can spare one night....” She looked away, feeling embarrassed. This was not Quinn - the social genius - talking. Rachel made her so awkward.
“Ok.”
“Ok?”
“Yes.”
She managed an almost pained smile at the brunette, still agonizing over her ridiculousness. This seemed to amuse the other girl and Quinn couldn't help but grin more genuinely.
“Well good... this should... this should be good.”
*****
"Oh for the love of God...”
“I demand a refund! Give me the phone.”
“Rachel, just eat around the anchovies!”
“No! The juices have comingled with the rest of the toppings! I will not have my palate exposed to that repulsive concoction! And we tipped him!” Rachel paused, her eyes narrowing at Quinn accusingly. “Wait - you tipped him! You gave him a tip when he was almost an hour late!”
“Rachel it was twenty minutes-“
“Forty five!”
Quinn sneered at the brunette in annoyance. There was an impending headache arriving and it gathered speed as Rachel delved into her Diva Disaster moment.
It was supposed to be simple. Lay out the junk food, start the movie, wait for the pizza, and relax. She had even planned to allow herself room for chitchat with the irritating girl. But Rachel was incapable of letting go and to Quinn’s surprise she gave in easily to the brunette’s orders. She was allotted only half a bag of chips so - as Rachel put it - she had an appetite for pizza. Then she had to change into pyjamas because Rachel gave her these absolutely evil mind controlling puppy eyes, implying that she’d never had a proper sleep over before. They brought a blanket to the roomy couch and Quinn tried not to stare. Clearly, Rachel’s taste in clothes did not translate to her bedroom. The tank top and boxers on that tanned body made her feel decidedly lightheaded. Quinn wore a more conservative t-shirt and shorts.
They had a small argument over what to put on the pizza. Quinn hated pineapple on her pizza; Rachel salivated at the thought and refused to do a pizza half and half because it saved money to settle for toppings they both agreed on. And no, they would not be using Quinn’s hard earned money. In the end Quinn gave up because whatever she threw at Rachel the woman would simply go off on a long monologue on the various things incorrect with her logic. Rachel had patience for everything.
Everything but the delivery boy. She had to physically tackle Rachel to get her to keep from assaulting him for being twenty - and ONLY twenty minutes late. The guy must have thought Quinn insane by the way she threw the money in his face, grabbed the carton and told him to run for it.
Now the diva was demanding retribution because they added anchovies.
“Take off the toppings.”
“Give me the phone.”
“Take. Off. The. Toppings!”
“Give. Me. The. Phone.”
They stared at one another, squaring off. Quinn had an irrational urge to toss the pizza at the girl but it reminded her all too much of the Slushie attacks. Rachel quirked an eyebrow and her eyes lost focus for a moment. Quinn realised the girl was plotting something and she was quickly running out of time. So she sat down on the couch with the phone under her butt and grabbed a slice, quickly removing the offending anchovies.
“Quinn!”
“Try it.”
“I will not try it.”
Quinn bit into it, trying not to wince at the heat. She closed her eyes and moaned deeply, as if it was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted. When she opened them Rachel was blushing and looking flustered.
“It’s excellent. Try it.” She offered it to Rachel, noting the conflicted and slightly glazed look on the girl’s face. Her own expression fell when she considered the fact that maybe Rachel just didn't want to swap spit with her. It hurt her feelings and she felt stupid for it.
But Rachel grabbed it from her, eyeing it like it was some deadly object, before taking a tentative bite. She chewed slowly, eyes locked on the carton suspiciously, and Quinn couldn't help but laugh when she realised the brunette was being playful.
“Well?”
“It’s not inedible.” Rachel grudgingly replied.
To Quinn’s surprise the night improved after that. They ate and watched the movie. Though Quinn was almost mortified when she realised they had been inching closer together as the movie got scarier. When Rachel’s leg brushed against her own she went rigid, flashes of Brittany and Santana running through her mind. Inwardly groaning she tried to ignore the brunette and her thoughts, only to jump a little when Rachel starting clinging to her and whimpering.
There was an agonizing ache between her legs and she immediately regretted the entire evening. She tried to squirm away from Rachel’s grip but the smaller girl shrieked at something on the screen and practically jumped into Quinn’s lap and forced the blond to lean back on the armrest. Her arms wrapped around Quinn’s neck as she half lay on top of her.
Rachel’s dark hair was in her face. She could smell the citrus shampoo, inhaling the scent that mingled with the diva’s skin. Quinn felt oddly heavy and very warm. She blamed it on Rachel’s body heat. It was difficult to breathe because every time she took in air she would get hit with a dizzying blast of Rachel Berry.
Rachel was on top of her. So warm and soft against her. Quinn could almost feel Rachel seeping into her. That irresistible, boundless perseverance wrapped around her. Berry was a force of nature. There was no doubt in Quinn’s mind that if Rachel hadn’t been so fixated on her Broadway career Quinn would have found herself usurped from her position in life so quickly and easily she would have been fighting to leech off the girl’s popularity. She would have been Rachel’s Santana, second best and hungry for the Diva’s leftovers.
Quinn bit her lip at the thought, too deep in her thoughts of Rachel ordering her around, demanding her immediate attention and punishing her for her inadequacies - to notice they had shifted on the couch and Rachel was completely on top of her.
She used to do that to Santana. Failure was not permitted. The Latina hated it when Quinn exerted control, but Quinn felt she wouldn’t mind so much if Rachel did that to her. She felt herself grow wet and ashamed. What the hell did it mean, to want someone to control you?
Rachel shifted her weight to wrap the blanket around them and even though every move was innocent Quinn’s heart rate jumped. The brunette stilled; her cheek by Quinn’s collarbone and her forehead to Quinn’s neck.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine” she answered, trying to ignore the shakiness in her voice.
Rachel shifted so she could look at Quinn directly.
“You sound... odd.”
Quinn had gone silent, muted by those warm expressive eyes. Rachel’s silky thick hair trailed down her shoulders and tickled Quinn’s collarbone and jaw. Everything seemed to slow down and her body felt heavy. In that moment she wanted nothing more in the world than to run her fingers through that hair. Her mouth had gone dry as she realised what was about to happen. She was about to do something she would probably regret for the rest of her life.
She buried her fingers into Rachel’s hair and pulled her down for a kiss. It was gentle, barely a peck, and Rachel didn't move. If she had been coherent, Quinn would have thought Rachel’s lack of response was rejection. But Rachel’s scent, warmth and weight on top of her made her giddy and disoriented. So she explored those lips further with her teeth and tongue, deepening the kiss and flicking her tongue along Rachel’s plump bottom lip for entrance. When the girl whimpered, Quinn felt it all go to her head.
She squirmed under Rachel, intending to flip their positions so she was on top. Taking charge was all she ever knew. But what should have been simple became complicated.
Quinn hissed in surprise when Rachel bit her bottom lip hard. She tried to pull away and was stunned when Rachel pinned her to the couch firmly, her hands darting out to tug Quinn’s hands out of her hair and hold them down at her sides.
Her grunt of protest went unnoticed or was completely ignored because soon Rachel’s tongue delved past her lips and demanded full access. Quinn’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and she tried to arch off the couch but Rachel held her down fast.
The kiss was hungry and intense, robbing the blond of her breath. There was whimpering and whining and she quickly realised it was all her own. Rachel growled as she ground her hips into Quinn’s. All the energy and all the indomitable will that was Rachel focused on Quinn. She thought she would explode from sensory overload.
With her arms free she unconsciously reached out and groped the brunette, hands caressing shoulders, breasts and stomach. She wanted to touch everything that she couldn't touch before.
Her lips hurt and her tongue strained against Rachel’s assault but she fought to claim the diva’s mouth. It was impossible. Rachel was too much. The woman was driving Quinn insane, so heady with her unspoken challenges. The brunette’s nails dug into her hips.
Rachel nudged Quinn’s legs open and settled herself between them. The slow, rhythmic grinding made her mewl. Then her mind latched onto one horrifying fact: she was wet and teeming. Her juices had literally pooled onto her boxers and Rachel gasped when - in the next jerk of her hips - Quinn’s wetness spilled over and surprised them both. It had gone through her shorts and Rachel could feel the warmth on her thigh.
Mortified by her body, Quinn violently lurched in an attempt to get off the couch, only to find herself trapped by a quick thinking and fast acting Rachel Berry.
She was flat on her stomach and confused.
“Get off me Rachel!”
The girl didn't respond, unceremoniously jerking Quinn’s boxers down to her knees. Quinn’s body flushed when she heard Rachel’s sharp inhalation. No, she wasn’t wearing anything under the boxers.
Quinn tried to get herself up off the couch when Rachel pushed her back.
“Stay down” the singer’s voice was hoarse and tense.
“Fuck you” she meant for it to sound angry but it came out like a moan.
A whimper left her throat when the brunette’s fingers dug into her shoulders as punishment.
“What the hell are you doing Berry?” Something told her that calling Rachel any of her old nicknames would not be beneficial to her at that point but she was still defiant.
A part of her knew she could easily escape all of this. Rachel would have given up the minute Quinn showed she was serious. But Quinn didn't want it to stop and as much as she hated to admit it, she knew she had wanted this for a while. An internal battle raged within her: the desire to finally put that fucking bitch in her place and the need to have someone finally put Quinn in her place. Someone to acknowledge that the blond was a human who had weaknesses. Someone who could be trusted to see that part of her. Someone like Rachel, the only person she had ever known to be stronger than herself and the only person to have ever withstood the full force of Quinn’s cruelty and yet show compassion.
She would never understand Rachel. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to. She got the sense that knowing Rachel would break her heart.
“Hey!” Quinn jumped a little when Rachel got up and yanked the shorts off her. The blond didn't even bother getting up, even though the singer had let go of her back in order to improve her reach.
In spite of everything, she was not prepared for Rachel to start nudging her ass up so she was on her knees with her face pressed up against the pillow.
“Oh.... God....” she groaned as the brunette traced her opening with the tips of her fingers
She turned around, unsure of what she had been hoping to accomplish by looking at the singer. Rachel was staring at Quinn’s sex with feral intensity. A wolf coveting a delicious meal. The sight alone was enough to make Quinn forget what was happening. When those blazing mocha eyes connected with her own, the blond’s breath hitched.
Rachel grinned though it was more of a baring of teeth. Goosebumps rose along her skin until Rachel leaned over and rested a hand between Quinn’s shoulder blades, effectively restraining her.
She hadn’t had sex since Puck and her body had recovered marvellously since the birth. Youth made the human body very versatile. Quinn squirmed as Rachel pressed three fingers against her opening. She was so slick that as Rachel slowly slipped her fingers past the knuckle Quinn had to bite the couch pillow to keep from crying out too loud from the painful pleasure. Her hips moved of their own accord.
The position was awkward. Later her neck would hurt. But at that point in time all she could focus on was Rachel’s hand. Her eyes squeezed tight as she forgot about everything: who she was supposed to be, who she actually was, and all the rules that accompanied that knowledge. The movements were unhurried and tortuous. When she tried to speed up, Rachel would pull out and punish her by gently exploring her folds. The woman was sadistic in ways Quinn was not capable of being. She was a child of instant gratification.
Quinn learned Rachel’s rule. It was one rule alone: follow Rachel’s lead. Tears ran down her cheeks as she suffered being so close yet so damn far away. When her body started to heat up and climax seemed inevitable, Rachel would change tactics, ruin the pace or go back to explore.
And all Quinn could do was wait and pray that she could trust Rachel to finally finish her off. She begged and pleaded, nearly sobbing with promises and apologies for everything she had done. Rachel wouldn’t shut her up. Wouldn’t comment on anything. Didn't change her pattern.
She was nearly hysterical, wanting so much to push herself down on Rachel’s hand but knowing that the brunette would merely leave if she did such a thing, she stayed put with her ass high in the air.
Tears ran down her cheeks. She was going to die. There was no doubt in her mind that she was going to die. Rachel was going to kill her with her touch alone.
Unintelligible words spilled from her lips, mingled with confessions of past sins. Apologies for selling her soul to be popular and safe. Appeals for understanding of her weaknesses. She didn't know what she was really saying and she forgot she was saying it to Rachel. The precarious balance between pleasure and pain, the edge of orgasm, the smell of Berry in the air and the taste of salt on her tongue, she was going to die and she was going to love it.
She couldn't see Rachel, couldn't see the wonder and awe on her face. Rachel’s tears went unnoticed. But Quinn became very aware of the increase in speed.
“Oh! Oh, oh, oh, ahh....” Words disappeared and Quinn stuffed the pillow into her mouth to muffle her screams. Her body shook violently and her face turned red as powerful orgasms racked her thin frame. It was loud and messy and when it was over the entire world went black. Quinn had died.
Only she didn't. Someone was prodding her awake. It couldn't have been more than a minute of sleep, but some asshole was waking her up from what had been a fantastic and weird sex dream.
She opened a bleary eye to find she was still on the couch, Rachel sitting by her feet with a glass of water.
“Drink this.”
Quinn stared at her in disbelief.
“You’ve been unconscious for three hours. Drink some water.”
Rachel was behaving oddly. Her words were straightforward and plain, no long rambling monologues. It was almost as disconcerting as knowing Rachel had fucked her senseless only five hours ago until she blacked out.
Quinn couldn't bring herself to say anything coherent so she grabbed the glass of water, watching the brunette carefully. Her eyes were so dark they were onyx. She had never seen Rachel’s eyes that colour before. It was unnerving. She sipped water from the glass and continued staring.
When she finished with her drink, Rachel got up to grab it from her hand and place the glass on the coffee table. She stood before Quinn
“I am.... fully aware of the ramifications of our activities tonight. I know we need to talk about this when we are clear headed and alert.”
Quinn raised an eyebrow at the brunette, eyes darting all over. She felt embarrassed but intrigued.
“And we will be doing that. But first, we aren’t finished. I have waited three hours and while I do like to think I have the capacity to be a considerate and compassionate lover, I am due reciprocation. You’ll have to forgive me this one time - since it is our first coupling - because I simply cannot wait any longer.”
She didn't even know how to respond to that. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened but nothing came out. Rachel seemed to take that for consent.
“Scoot down so you’re flat on your back.” She grabbed a pillow and tossed it to the blonde, to put under her head.
The obedience came more easily now. Quinn shifted so she was flat on the couch and staring up at Rachel, who swiftly took her boxer shorts and panties off. The blond’s mouth watered at the sight of the diva’s neatly trimmed curls.
There was no need for more words. With one foot firmly planted on the floor Rachel put her knee on the other side of Quinn’s head. The blond only had a brief moment to nuzzle and explore the still surprisingly warm and wet pussy. Quinn swallowed hard and the instant her tongue touched sensitive flesh, she found her mouth full with Rachel’s heat.
Rachel had been waiting a long time. She gripped the armrest hard enough to turn her fingers white. There was no mercy; she rode Quinn’s face hard and fast. Waiting had been masochistic of her but watching Quinn’s peaceful face as she slept - after first checking her vital signs, Rachel almost panicked when the blond suddenly collapsed on the couch - she couldn't bring herself to awaken her. But thoughts of what they had done wouldn’t leave her head and soon enough she had lost all pretence of being giving. Lust won out.
Quinn’s nails were digging into Rachel’s ass, drinking the brunette in like her life depended on it. The singer was loud and Quinn did her best to make her louder. She wanted to drown in Rachel, to take everything the woman gave her and give that woman everything she had.
The dark haired singer came with a desperate cry and hand to jerk herself up from Quinn, her mouth far too intense and enthusiastic on her sensitive flesh.
Her legs too weak to hold her, Rachel fell to the floor between the coffee table and the couch. Still panting and flushed, she looked at the blond who was licking her glistening lips and looking back at Rachel with a glazed, possessive look that made Rachel shiver.
“Fuck....” she whispered, more to herself than Quinn.
“Yeah....” Quinn shifted on the couch to make room for the brunette, lifting the blanket for her.
Rachel laughed a little, amused by the fact that they were both only clad in this t-shirts. Quinn gave her a small, uncertain smile that made her look so vulnerable the diva stopped short. She cuddled up to Quinn in silence, bringing the blanket tight across them. The blonde lost her nerve, facing Rachel in such close proximity, so she quickly shifted onto her back.
They stayed there like that for a while, Rachel staring at the side of Quinn’s face while the blonde’s gaze stayed fixed to the ceiling. Sighing to herself, Rachel shifted so she was half on top of Quinn, her head tucked under the taller girl’s jaw.
The low light of the room and the sex should have put them both to sleep. While Rachel was certainly getting drowsy, Quinn’s mind was racing.
“You know... I couldn't even look at her.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but Rachel stiffened slightly against her, fully alert.
“Her?”
“The baby.” Quinn could taste bile in her throat.
As if sensing this might be the one and only time Quinn would ever bring this up, Rachel kept her mouth mercifully shut.
“I couldn't even look at her. Didn't want to hold her. Made the doctors.... take her away.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah...” Her eyes burned and itched. She didn't want to talk about this. Not now, not ever, but she couldn't stop the words from flowing out.
“I - I failed Rachel. I failed everything. My parents... tossed me away. Like I was nothing. I lost control of the school... Lost my self-respect.” She hadn’t even been aware that she had created this list in her head a long time ago. Idly adding to it as time went by.
“Lost my virginity.... lost my body... lost... my chance to get out of here....I lost a nice guy I didn't even want that much.” She laughed at the way Rachel froze at that, though it came out as a sob.
“Finn is great. A great guy. But nothing... nothing made me want him.” She couldn't believe she was saying this. “No one ever made me... fixate on them. Except you though...” The tone in her voice was almost joking. “Isn’t that hilarious? You’re the only person I’ve ever hunted. The only one I ever sought. God I couldn't even stop myself if I tried. I really wanted to hurt you.” She sighed, hot tears trailing down her face.
“I’m one sick fucking bitch.”
Without her permission, one of her hands had started playing with Rachel’s hair.
“But you know... you know what absolutely disgusts me? I didn't lose a damn thing.” She laughed this time, an angry bark of laughter. “I didn't have any of those things. They were all lies. My body belonged to God; my parents didn't give a fuck about me, only cared whether I fit their imaginary perfect life. I never controlled the fucking school. It controlled me. Told me what to wear, what to eat, what to say, who to talk to... Control is an illusion...”
She pressed her lips to Rachel’s hair, taking a deep breath.
“You know...” she whispered softly, as if this were a most important secret. “I never had self respect Rachel. Never. I always did what others expected of me. We all do. Well... except for you. You’re different Rachel. You’ve always been different. Drove me crazy the way you just... spit in our faces, called us out on our bullshit.”
Rachel had shifted and when Quinn turned she gazed into wide, surprised brown eyes. Quinn smiled at her.
“Nothing can stop you. Not me, not the entire school, and not the system.” She noted the confusion on Rachel’s face but decided to ignore it. She’d explain that later.
“After everything that’s happened to you... you didn't get all emo, bitchy or discouraged. You’re amazing Rachel.” She could have sworn that even in the low light, Rachel had gone red. “I don’t understand you at all. But I know you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. You wouldn’t have failed. Even if you got pregnant, you would have kept the baby, gone to Broadway, made millions and gotten married. You would have forgotten Lima. You would have told everyone to fuck off. You would -“
“Quinn!”
The blonde choked on whatever it was she was going to say. Her rambling rant stopped abruptly. She looked at Rachel, looking very small and fragile.
“Not that I’m not...” Rachel appeared to struggle with her words and Quinn was a little proud of herself for that. “I mean... I’ve never had anyone... give me so many compliments... especially of that nature.” A light of confidence returned to those dark eyes. “Of course I’ve always known people would compliment me on my voice, my presence on the stage, my ability to...” she trailed off at Quinn’s knowing little smile.
“Well, what I meant to say is... I have no idea how I would have handled your situation Quinn.”
The blonde said nothing, turning to the ceiling once more.
“Quinn... what happened to you was scary. Really scary. I felt like - like - like shit after I told Finn and saw everything fall apart. I was selfish and stupid.”
Rachel paused to grasp Quinn’s clenching jaw and turn those hazel eyes to her.
“I have no idea how I would have reacted. When I thought about it later... and I couldn't stop thinking about it... how terrifying it must have been to have the pregnancy and the lies all on my head.... Quinn you’re one of the bravest and strongest person I’ve known.”
The sob that escaped Quinn’s lips hurt. Like the sound actually tore into the soft flesh of her throat. But Rachel wouldn’t stop talking.
“You’ve walked so many paths. I’ve only ever walked one. You’ve survived every decision and you’ve been asked to make some extremely difficult choices. I mean... you were sixteen and pregnant. But you refused to abort. And it takes a special kind of strength to admit your limitations and give the baby up to someone else. You took every punch thrown your way. When Finn broke up with you, your friends left you, you were stripped of your title, your parents.... well(,) everything broke down. And you still survived. My God Quinn you went to school during the day and stayed at a woman’s shelter at night! Even after everything you pushed forward! Quinn....”
At that point Quinn couldn't hear a damn thing. She was crying. Hard. Nearly retching from it.
The woman she had been torturing for years, the one she had been secretly loathing for being everything she wasn’t, put her on a pedestal. Told her she was worth something, that what she had done meant something. It was ok to not be able to take care of the baby. She wasn’t a Lima loser; she was a human being who did her best and someone actually thought she had done something right. When everyone else was punishing her and taunting her for her mistakes.
“You’re amazing Fabray, you’re fucking amazing.”
She would have laughed - who could say they had made Rachel Berry cuss twice in five minutes - but she was busy shaking. It was as if Rachel were cleansing her, taking all the poison out of her. She was far from fixed but for the first time in a long time she began to look at things a bit differently.
“You’ll need some counselling sessions... not with Ms. Pillsbury but someone else. I’ll talk to father about it. Not that I’m calling Ms. Pillsbury’s credentials into question but...”
Quinn began to quiet down, feeling tired but a bit lighter. Rachel’s soft, commanding voice filled her ears, talking of schedules. Quietly, she turned so she was snuggling on top of the brunette, making small noises of consent. In the morning she would put up a fight. Counselling sounded mortifying. But deep down she knew she would do whatever those molten brown eyes demanded of her.
****
Santana was beyond pissed. Brittany sat next to her pouting. They were alone at their table in the cafeteria. Everyone was ignoring them. Technically, they were ignoring Santana, if Brittany went over to join anyone or bothered to leave her place by the Latina, she would have been welcomed with open arms. Santana - on the other hand - was being punished.
It happened so quickly Santana wasn’t sure what the hell had happened. One day she was Queen of the school and walking all over Quinn, with Brittany at her arm like a princess. Then the next day she found herself at the bottom. Even the Glee kids were higher on the pecking order than she was and she was a Cheerio. Multiple Slushie attacks within an hour. Brittany was her one veto card. No one would Slushie in Brittany’s direction so Santana found herself - to her horror - glued to Brittany for protection.
And it was because Quinn usurped her and demanded retribution.
It had started out mildly enough. The blonde started looking healthier, talked more, and hung out with Rachel Berry. She was still fairly quiet and kept to herself. But people were still scared of Quinn because there was a sharper edge to her, a hardened quality to her that they instinctively shied away from. They avoided harassing the brunette in front of her.
Then Santana got cocky.
It wasn’t personal. Rachel was tolerable in small doses. But the fear surrounding Quinn infuriated her. Santana had done her best to beat down the girl’s reputation, to destroy what little Quinn hadn’t managed to mutilate herself. Yet even at the bottom, people were scared of her. It wasn’t right. It was pathetic. So she organized the hockey team to attack Rachel with ten Slushies when Quinn was there to witness it.
Santana stood there and watched it herself, ignoring the sad look in Brittany’s eyes, as Rachel minded her business at her locker, Quinn at her side. There had been no warning. Next thing the diva knew, she was covered almost head to toe with a variety of colours. Her body went rigid at the icy slop of fluid. But Santana paid her no mind, focusing on Quinn’s shocked expression, Slushie shrapnel flecking her face.
When their eyes met Santana smirked - but only for three seconds. Then those disbelieving hazel eyes lit up with understanding and Santana stood paralyzed as that gaze turned Arctic. It was as if she had been frozen in her place by those cold, rage filled eyes. She had overstepped a boundary. And Santana was normally ok with that. So she ignored the crawling of her skin that warned her she had screwed herself over. She forced a smug smile and walked away, Brittany following shortly after.
She figured the Rachel Slushie shower had been the straw that broke the camel’s back and had anticipated many things: mainly physical retaliation. What she had not expected was Quinn to blaze a trail of fury up the social echelons. If it didn't mean she was about to be in some serious shit, Santana would have been in awe.
Quinn walked the hallways like she owned them and people began behaving accordingly. She talked of her pregnancy drama openly, laughing about it, making it a joke. And people laughed with her. The blonde drew powerful allies; old charms came back tenfold, working on old friends. People remembered Quinn. Puck came to her side immediately, Finn followed a little more reluctantly - though Santana suspected that was more Rachel’s doing than Quinn’s.
Sue Sylvester herself had started pressuring Quinn to come back - though reluctant to admit that the Cheerios were struggling without her. Quinn refused and people thought her better for it. Santana’s footing faltered on top of the hierarchy, a position that had only been won after Quinn stepped down.
And almost overnight, Quinn was back as Queen.
A few simple rules were implemented upon her comeback. The first rule was: Rachel Berry is second to Quinn. People were not allowed in any way shape or form to cause the girl to suffer. The reason was simply because Rachel had supported her through all her drama. Santana was actually shocked at how everything had effectively changed. No-one Slushied Rachel. They even offered to help her if she happened to drop something or couldn't carry something in hopes of currying favour with Quinn.
The other rule was that Brittany was - in Quinn’s eyes - a sweetheart and would be allowed to make friends with Santana. Brittany would remain where she was in the hierarchy. She was the only one allowed such a reprieve.
The final rule was: make Santana miserable. So she got Slushied on a regular, almost hourly basis. Things went missing from her locker, people ignored her, and to her shock, people were snagging her Cheerio outfit, covering it in dirt and shit. Brittany had to keep offering the use of her uniform which was too long for her.
Quinn had been very efficient. On her way to the top one of her main sticking points was insulting Santana. And she was vicious. Cruel comments about how slutty the Latina was. How abrasive and violent. There was an undertone of racism and classism in every word. Santana knew Quinn wasn’t actually racist or classist. She had listened to the girl’s frustrated rants over her parent’s bullshit. But she was a manipulative bitch and knew how to push people’s buttons. Soon Santana was overhearing people talk about her. Whispering twisted things that she knew came from Quinn’s honeyed words.
“You’d think she was raised in the wilderness. I mean honestly... do you know many girls raising their fists at people? We’re afraid of her like we’re afraid of rabid dogs. Just attacks without thinking. I think it’s got to do with her parents... She’s unstable. I hear she’s fucking Puck. Really? I heard she was fucking that other guy - what’s his name? Who doesn’t she fuck?
She should have seen this coming because back when they were ‘friends’ and Quinn had trusted her, the blonde had once given her one very important little tidbit of information. During a sleepover Quinn had been tipsy and Brittany had gone to the bathroom. A dark shadow had passed over her face and she had leaned into Santana, whispering:
The right way to get to be the best is by destroying the one already on top.
She had thought she had already done that to Quinn... but she had forgotten that one detail of their conversation that could have saved her a lot of trouble.
But don’t go too far... You just want them quiet. Push too hard and you’ll either break em or they’ll come at you Santana... they’ll come at you so hard. Always remember nothing is permanent.
Now here she was, completely obliterated. Brittany was sharing her lunch because someone had stolen hers. She had caught him at it. But where she would have normally snarled and jumped at him... she had backed away, because Quinn had truly revoked her status. He would have fought her back and as good a punch as she could throw, she didn't want to have her jaw or nose broken for a sandwich. It was only a small part of her punishment.
“I talked to her.”
Santana looked up at Brittany slowly.
“You talked to Quinn?” She tried not to sound too relieved but she had pinned her hopes on Brittany. Santana - who normally hated asking for anyone’s help - depended on Brittany, the sweet if somewhat slow Cheerio.
As much as she cared about the blonde... even loved her... the fact that Brittany had more clout than she did left a bitter taste in her mouth.
“Yeah.”
Santana sat there and waited. Realising that Brittany wouldn’t take the hint, she added:
“So what did you say? And what did she say?”
“Umm I told her I didn't like how people were attacking you. It hurt my feelings and made me sad. She told me she liked me but she wasn’t going to do anything about the attacks.”
“Fantastic.” She took a bite out of the apple Brittany had given her, ignoring the bits of food people were sporadically flicking at the back of her head.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” Santana sighed tiredly, feeling a headache growing between her eyes.
“No. It’s your fault. You hurt Rachel.”
“What?!” That was not the response she had expected.
“Quinn wasn’t doing anything. Even when you were being mean. Then you hurt Rachel. That hurt Quinn. So now Quinn’s going to hurt you.”
“Are you serious? This has nothing to do with Rachel. Rachel was just the last straw. Her newest little buddy. God. She’s been wanting to put me down since grade school!”
A piece of muffin hit the furious girl’s cheek and Brittany watched almost mesmerized as those dark eyes flared in rage then felt a little ill as all the fight went out of it.
“I don’t know about that Santana. She picked you as a friend. If she didn't like you at all she would have put you down like this a long time ago...”
“Whatever. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Frustrated by her inability to control things the way Quinn could, and angry that Brittany would take that bitch’s side.
“I hope you get used to walking.” Came that familiar voice, laced with pride and scorn.
“What the fuck did you do to my car you blonde little cu-“ Her ire died the instant she locked eyes with Quinn. The blonde leaned up against the doorframe. She oozed confidence so thick Santana struggled to breathe. She could see Brittany hovering nervously from farther away, obviously wary of calling Quinn’s attention to her. There were limits to Quinn’s kindness toward the tall blonde.
“I didn't do anything. Don't know who did it. Don't care. But you’re going to need new tires.”
Santana turned red, wanting desperately to lash out but held firmly in place by those calm hazel eyes. Those eyes that looked upon the Latina with simple, hard truth: Santana would do nothing. She could almost feel the sickening weight of Quinn on her. The command she wielded at her leisure. Quinn was still furious and her rage was cold. An empty frozen abyss ready to swallow Santana whole and she would willingly fall forward into it because denying Quinn seemed unfathomable.
So Santana stood there numb and drowning in her anger but bound by that hard gaze. A little smirk arose on Quinn’s lips and Santana knew more vicious barbs were coming her way.
But they never came.
Instead, Quinn’s eyes darted just past Santana and went soft. Santana took a breath, unaware she had been holding it, as the power that had been so tightly coiled around Quinn seemed to disappear. The Latina was almost stricken by Quinn’s suddenly releasing her.
Santana frowned in confusion as something akin to tenderness flickered over Quinn’s face. Then the blonde walked away from her without a word. Santana turned abruptly to find whatever it was that had stopped Quinn’s warpath - where she was going. At first she didn't see anyone special, but then her jaw dropped open.
Rachel Berry’s eyes locked on her own as Quinn walked over to her. She didn't miss the way Quinn brushed her finger tips along Rachel’s forearm. Then Rachel turned away from Santana and the two girls walked off together.
Santana barely took notice of Brittany walking over to her to hug her and offer her comfort. There was no doubt now, what she had done wrong. If anyone had hurt Brittany, she would have annihilated them. There would be no mercy and no time wasted. Santana had hurt Rachel and Quinn was only doing what Santana herself would have done.
She was amazed and disgusted that they were together. She was felt ill because now she knew.
The only way out of this wasn’t to send Brittany over to Quinn, with her puppy dog eyes... or even to apologise to Quinn. She had to earn favour with Rachel fucking Berry.