Calling a Truce - Glee - Part One
Title: Calling a Truce (Canvas of Scars series) - part one
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Quinn/Rachel, Santana/Quinn, (minor B/R, B/S)
Words: 13,640
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Up to sectionals
Copyright: Glee owns what they own.
Warning: Some Dom/Sub play, minor violence (some sexual), dark content/angsty, fisting
Summary: Santana and Quinn search for stable footing while Quinn/Rachel struggle with their new relationship.
A/N: Sequel to “Go with the Flow” and “Rectified Mistakes” (can’t link em, makes it too big for LJ). This has now been named a series: Canvas of Scars. Eventually this will be Ot4. Hope you all enjoy! Much love and adoration for my two betas! Zippadedoodah, for picking apart my plot, and Susurrus Night, for fixing my English! They helped me turn my drivel into a story ;)
Brittany's soft blonde hair felt nice, curled around her fingers. The locks were cool to the touch, without a single knot to mar them, and Santana would love to be able to play with them in public. But it was only ever Brittany who played with Santana's hair in public. Because it was okay for Brittany to do that: to everyone else Brittany was a simpleton. Santana was - or had been - one of the top girls of the school. She slept with guys like Puck. She did not sleep with dimwitted blonde girls.
And she didn't; Brittany was no dimwit. She didn't allow anyone to call Brittany any variation of the word 'dumb', but she also didn't tell anyone that they had a more than friendly relationship. Santana was comfortable with the open relationship they had and not ready to let anyone else know about it. Brittany had nearly ruined everything when she outed the two of them over the phone, but Santana had waved it off and the Gleeks hadn't been stupid enough to spread the word. Things didn't change, so she could taste and touch Brittany whenever she wanted to all the while fucking Puck on the side when she was in the mood. Brittany herself dated guys on the side, but no matter what happened they were always together.
They came home to one another; the others were just mini-vacations. Brittany was hers no matter who touched her. Santana was never jealous and neither was Brittany. They were happy together.
Santana couldn't suppress a small smile as Brittany nuzzled deeper into her neck and wrapped one long, amazingly toned leg around Santana's waist. The glow of the television made Brittany look ethereal in the dark room. It was almost disturbing, reminding Santana of the time when - as kids - Brittany had gone to elementary school claiming that one of her ancestors was an elf. Santana had argued with the girl 'til she was red in the face, trying to point out that elves weren't real in spite of Brittany's unwavering belief. But deep down, she found Brittany strange and a bit mysterious; part of her had wondered if maybe it was possible, as they played fairyland. Of course she got over it and Brittany herself had decided after a few weeks that her ancestors were really royalty, instead. That started another round of arguments and a new round of games where Santana was King and Brittany was Queen.
"This is nice. It's been a while."
Santana said nothing, blinking away the memories of her childhood to focus on her more urgent and recent past. Her libido had died down recently, since Quinn wrapped the whole school around her finger. Guys didn't want to be seen with her. Even Puck had stopped calling her, fearing Quinn's wrath. The never-ending abuse was also stressing her out. Her energy for sex had been lacking and Brittany's patience had to have been wearing thin, if that night's strenuous activity was any indication.
"Yeah, I know babe..." she breathed in Brittany's hair and snuggled deeper into her bed.
"You need to talk to Quinn."
It was difficult to focus on what Brittany was saying when she was tracing weird little words on Santana's stomach. When she had asked what Brittany wrote, the girl had told her it was in Dutch and she wouldn't get it.
"Don't be ridiculous Brit... Quinn would probably eat me alive. I need to focus on Rachel."
"But you need Quinn."
Santana frowned at that, not entirely sure what Brittany was trying to say.
"I don't need that white trash slut. All I need is for her to leave me the fuck alone." She shifted on the bed to get a better look at Brittany, glad that it didn't creak as much as her own did. Not that Brittany's parents were particularly concerned about Santana. They trusted her with their daughter. The same could not be said of Santana's more conservative family.
"Don't call her that." Brittany sighed and sat up against the bed frame.
"Preggo and that rabid midget are fucking."
Brittany shifted on her bed to face Santana better.
"An Eggo and a badger?"
Santana stared at Brittany for a long moment. Those crystalline blue eyes stared back at her, nonplussed.
"No... Preggo - that would be Fabray - and Berry - that would be the rabid... never mind. They're having sex. That's why Quinn is trying to kill me."
"She's not trying to kill you. She just wants to hurt you."
Santana's eyes narrowed as she tried to follow along with Brittany. Talking to her had a tendency to turn stressful when Santana didn't keep up. Most people assumed Brittany couldn't follow along with the average conversation, but after years with Brittany, Santana had figured out that the problem really lay with whoever spoke to Brittany. The girl was usually light years ahead of the conversation and had a tendency to fixate on certain points of a topic that only appeared meaningless. Sometimes Santana wondered if Brittany only pretended to be stupid in order to amuse herself.
So in two sentences Brittany conveyed several things: she wasn't surprised about Quinn and Rachel's relationship. She had to have been aware it was coming. And she had left Santana in the dark about it. That pissed Santana off. Brittany had known Quinn's motivations beforehand and hadn't warned Santana of a damn thing!
Questions ran through her mind in rapid succession.
"What the hell Brit?! You couldn't tell me this before that goddamn slushie attack? Look at me! I'm being fucked with by the entire school! They're treating me like shit!"
"I didn't really know. I mean, it's not like they told me or I saw them. It's not right to say stuff you don't know to be real. And you can still fix this."
At that Santana jumped off the bed and stood ramrod straight, absolutely furious at the calm woman still sitting on the bed comfortably.
"Fix it? Fix it! Do you know how many years I spent protecting you?! Fighting idiots left and right who wanted to pick on you!" The betrayal was sharp and deep, particularly since Brittany was all she had left. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
Brittany flinched and it was all Santana could do to remember why she was pissed off in the first place and not let those hurt baby blues melt her on the spot. Especially since Brittany was still very naked with the blankets tangled up around her legs.
"I'm not trying to hurt you, I'm trying to help. I didn't think I had to tell you to stay away from Rachel. Everyone else seemed to figure it out. I thought you -"
"Do I give a damn about staying away from Berry? You realise how ridiculous that sounds? That I need to stay away from that anal retentive freak in argyle! You should have told me Brittany! What the hell!"
What upset her most was how calm Brittany seemed. Normally when Santana was upset with her, Brittany would go out of her way to appease Santana's temper. Instead she sat there looking delectable and mildly bemused. It was frustrating.
"You fucked me over."
"Santana..."
"No. I'm not happy." She averted her eyes and got dressed quickly, ignoring the heat building up behind her eyes. She would not cry.
"You need Quinn."
"Fuck you." Santana froze at the door, unable to believe she had actually said that to Brittany. But when she turned around all Brittany did was watch her with a clenched jaw. The girl could burst into tears when someone told her she couldn't have some tiny trinket, but she just stared at Santana when told to fuck off.
"You still need Quinn."
"I don't need Quinn! God you are so... so... so!" Her face turned red as she struggled to stifle her outrage. With a snarl she slammed the door on her way out.
Brittany sighed at the door, feeling a little hurt and a little excited.
She knew what she was doing. Everything would be alright in the end.
****
Rachel sat at her table and stared at the computer screen, caught between sadness and joy.
People were watching her MySpace videos. They were watching and commenting. Positive comments. There was actual praise for her. No one mocked her. And while it should have made her ecstatic it only left a bitter taste in her mouth. It was difficult, adjusting to her new status.
Ever since that first day in elementary school, when a boy named Josh threw sand in her hair and everyone laughed, she had been waiting for this day. The day when people recognized her for her worth. People were talking to her, inviting her to parties and demanding her attention. It was up to her whether or not to dismiss them. And they came to her in flocks. She was popular.
Only she wasn't. Quinn was popular. Rachel was only leeching off of her. And it was strange, because it hadn't bothered her so much when she was chasing after Finn. The boy had almost the same potential as Quinn. She was supposed to latch onto him and then people would recognize her.
But with Quinn, things weren't so simple. After that first night together, things got very complicated. Quinn had been vulnerable and Rachel had no idea what she was doing. They both quickly realised that they had stumbled upon something important and dangerous but they didn't know what to do about it.
Rachel would never forget the way the blonde had exposed herself, her every wound on display, and all because of Rachel's touch. It was a heady power, the ability to make someone so defenceless, and it kind of scared her. It had scared Quinn too. Instead of moving forward, they stepped back. They started a careful dance, watching what they said to one another. But everything had changed.
Just thinking about how attached she had become to her former tormentor made her want to hyperventilate. She could not watch a girl bare her beautiful, damaged soul to her and feel nothing.
She wasn't supposed to feel that way. Rachel had mapped out a good chunk of her life by the age of seven and falling into a deeply confusing and powerful relationship did not enter into the equation. Least of all by the age of sixteen. She was petrified.
Rachel clicked to the next page, reading more praise, her ears on alert for when Quinn came home from her therapy session. They hadn't talked about Quinn's sessions and that was okay by Rachel.
Omg that was amazing srsly! U shud get a record deal babe!
She smiled weakly at the comment, painfully aware that the girl who wrote it had once organized a snowball attack on her that had left her bruised for almost two weeks.
The front door creaked as it opened and shut, making Rachel stiffen. She listened as Quinn walked to her own bedroom like she had every night since they'd slept together.
She wondered if Quinn was as conflicted as she was. The stoic girl kept close to Rachel and was even friendly but there was a distance between them. Neither of them were comfortable talking about what had happened.
And she didn't know what bothered her more: that they weren't exploring what was one of the most intense moments of her life, or that she felt relieved that she could stall things a little longer.
Sighing to herself, she clicked the window closed and settled on her bed to study, carefully pretending that she wasn't listening for Quinn.
****
Santana had never been much of a planner. It was what always held her back at Quinn's little games. All her life she had been a nobody; grow up as one of too many kids in one little house with a single mother and you get forgotten. She was the youngest in her family. One of five kids. Everyone looked out for themselves and everyone was an asshole. Her only sister ran away from home at fifteen, high on drugs and useless. She learned about life from her older brothers and her worn out ghost of a mother.
Her femininity was resilient, so even in a house full of boys she had managed to learn about womanhood. Learned mainly from her friends and the media, which was fucked up. No one could distort womanhood more than idiots her own age and the TV. But Santana was smart. She picked up on a lot of guy stuff from her brothers that she quickly realised every girl should have too. So she grew a backbone that could tough things out, even with her eldest brother, and an attitude that got things done.
But she wasn't a planner. She was just a doer. Granted, she normally wouldn't go into something completely unprepared, but even her backbone was suffering from all the abuse at school. So when she decided to completely wing it when talking to Rachel, she knew she was biting off more than she could chew. She had hoped to seduce the girl.
"Ray-chel." Santana winced at how awkward and stupid the name sounded as it fell from her lips. Old habits told her to sneer and find a way to make it seem like she had fumbled on purpose. As if it were some sort of joke on her part. But she had spent two weeks avoiding Brittany and stalking Rachel, and it just wasn't worth screwing everything up by acting a bitch now. When else would she get a chance to snag some alone time with the irritating little dwarf?
If Rachel wasn't surrounded by Gleeks then she was surrounded by simpering idiots who were trying to get into Quinn's good book by playing nice with her socially deficient best friend. And then Quinn herself would be watching from a distance, making sure Santana didn't spend too much time feeling safe or comfortable.
But not this time. Glee practice had finished and Rachel was walking to her car alone. Quinn had apparently fallen ill in the meantime. Santana might never get another chance.
"Hey Rachel!" She snapped, when the girl barely paused in her walk. That tone made her stop at the driver's side door and turn around.
"Santana, I will have you know that while I may be statistically smaller than you and the majority of McKinley I have taken self-defense lessons for five years and have been ranked the top student in my class." At Santana's blank stare she added: "We specialized in fending off opponents with masses greater than our own."
Santana's lip quirked a little because she was fairly certain Rachel was scared of her by the way she held her bag to her chest. So either she was lying about the lessons or Santana still had the ability to strike fear in the hearts of nerds. It brightened up her stressful day considerably. So she went forward with her plan feeling a lot more confident.
"I'm not here to attack you Rachel," the sarcasm helped mask her discomfort. "I'm just here to talk."
"What is it?" She opened the door, eager to put a barrier between them.
"I..." She trailed off, her cockiness deflating at the sound of some jocks walking by, laughing. She instinctively moved around Rachel's car to hide and stay out of their line of sight. Her heart sped up, hands got sweaty and she felt sick. She had never stayed around the school after hours, but before it used to be about how lame it was to stick around when school was over. Now she was mainly panicking. She had become number one on everyone's hit list.
"Not exactly a happy place to be is it?" Rachel relaxed a little. "It's kind of weird actually... them making me feel safer around you when they used to... well, you know."
Santana stared at Rachel with an unreadable expression. It had never really occurred to her that Rachel had suffered because of her. She could be so damn resilient and irritating. And now Rachel was fucking Fabray, who was the ultimate bitch and tormentor. But her quiet disposition and battle weary gaze gave Santana an idea.
"I'm sorry." Rachel scoffed, making her elaborate: "I know what I've done to you is bad. I've always known."
"Okay."
"If I knew then what I know now..."
"Of course you wouldn't do it a second time around. Or - at least - you'd do it without getting caught." She smiled wryly at the way Santana's eyes avoided her own. "See, you didn't really learn anything. You're just unhappy because she's punishing you."
Santana froze as Rachel slipped into the driver's seat and shut the door. Her chance was getting away from her.
"Okay. Okay!" She snarled, knocking on the window until Rachel slid it open. "I can't say that I'm regretting it for any other reason than getting caught."
Rachel sighed and started the ignition.
"Wait!" Holding onto the window ledge, she tried to keep her desperation to a minimum. "You're the better person alright? I'd never argue otherwise." She watched as Rachel's knuckles turned white on the steering wheel so she sped things up. "You are the better person. So I know you aren't going to let this keep going."
Rachel said nothing. Anxiety started choking Santana up. She was a major bitch, a vicious Cheerio, but even she had her limits after two months of agony. Never would she admit to begging or trying to appeal to someone's sympathy, but she had run out of options.
"Come on Rachel! They're doing more than throwing slushies in my damn face! They're destroying my shit, they're spitting on me! I can't... I'm not like you for God's sake; I'm not cut out for this. Isn't it enough? You didn't make Quinn go through this and she's done worse stuff to you than I have!"
"Stop." She hissed at Santana, who paused immediately. "Don't you dare compare yourself to Quinn! You're entirely different people." She switched gears out of park. "And I didn't have to punish her, life punished her for me. Now step away from the car, Lopez."
Santana watched as Rachel started pulling out from the parking lot. Old, familiar anger resurfaced.
"Fine! Just go then! Just fuck me Berry! Just like your girlfriend did years ago! Did you make her cum half as hard as I did?! Yeah! You - HEY!" She jumped back as the car violently jerked backwards, Rachel accidently hitting the gas instead of the brakes in her shock. But she recovered quickly enough, stopping before she slammed into the car behind her. And then the little midget - in her five foot two glory - jumped out of the car in the middle of the parking lot and stalked over to Santana.
"What did you say?" Rachel's voice cracked and she stared at Santana with wide eyes.
Santana held her position though she was inwardly worried that the jocks had heard the commotion, and seeing Rachel all flustered, would promptly beat the crap out of her.
"Queen Fabray didn't tell you? Did you think you were her first?" Santana smirked, canting her head at Rachel condescendingly. Anger was better than fear; she clung to her rage and indignation.
"She's been with Puck... just Puck. You... you're just messing with me!"
"Oh no she's been with Puck. No question about that." Her smile grew wider. "And me. And Brittany too. You know us girls... we three were always so close."
Rachel turned pale.
"I guess she hasn't told you. Makes sense... why would clean little Quinn Fabray tell her new girlfriend about the lesbian threesome she had with her two friends from high school?"
"Wh-what? Threesome?" Rachel looked absolutely dumbfounded and horrified.
"Yeah. Threesome. Me and Brittany. And her."
The two of them stood a meter apart. Santana had crossed her arms around her chest, pretending it was to intimidate the brunette and not to protect herself. She had been stupid, exposing herself and Quinn like that. Quinn would be uber-pissed and Santana had probably fallen even further out of what little of Rachel's good graces she could have grabbed onto.
Rachel was stunned and dazed, making Santana nervous.
"We did it. I mean, it was a long time ago. But we did it..."
"Both of you... at the same time."
"Yeah... that's how threesomes work." She tried to keep herself from mocking the girl too much.
"What... she never... we..."
"I... probably shouldn't have said anything." She swallowed hard, fear creeping up her spine at the thought of how Quinn would have a fucking explosion waiting for her. She would have to leave the state and start over... but that was the whole point of being a Cheerio, to leave the state. If she could have done it any time then she would have done it years ago.
"She didn't say anything..."
"Okay, like, relax. It didn't mean anything. I only said it to piss you off and make you stop leaving." She tried to fix things before Rachel ratted her out. "I just... like I said, I'm not cut out for this."
Rachel turned away and silently made her way back to the car, freezing when Santana grabbed her wrist.
"Rachel!" She choked on her frustration. The last thing she wanted to do was be sincere. But if all else failed she knew sincerity would work with Rachel. And she was damned tired of the torture and constant, nagging anxiety that had started following her around at school.
Her grades were dropping, her skills at Cheerio practice were flailing and she was swiftly losing her grip on her one way ticket the hell out of Lima.
"Rachel, please. She didn't tell you because it didn't matter to her at all." When Rachel refused to turn around she tried again. "I just... I can't take it anymore Rachel. Please. Call her off. I'm not going to go near you, okay? I promise."
"Let me go."
Santana dropped her hand away and watched mutely as Rachel stepped back into her car and drove off. She felt paralyzed, standing there and gawking at what was left of her dignity.
Fuck.
"Well, well, well.... if it ain't Santy. Bitch, who the fuck told you that you could stick around here?" Someone laughed behind her.
She turned around to see five guys from the basketball team laughing and watching her.
"I dunno man, way she looks in those Cheerio skirts... I don't mind her stickin' around. Bet you'd like it if I stuck it to you, eh babe?"
Santana shifted her feet on the pavement, trying to get a better stance.
"Fuck off."
They jeered and laughed, amused by her antics.
"Ooooo chica is gonna fight back!"
"Is she this spicy in bed?"
"Oh man you know what would be awesome?! When, in a million years, would we ever be allowed to shove a Cheerio in a fucking Porta-Pottie and get away with it?"
At that they hooted and hollered and Santana was off running, cursing them out and hating the world. But they were runners too.
And so they caught her.
****
Rachel came home, quiet and awkward. She could sense Quinn and her parents giving her weird looks but she told them she was tired so they gave her space.
When dinner was finished she darted up to her room quickly, trying to avoid Quinn. But it was a moot point because not five minutes after she had closed the door, Quinn was knocking.
"Come in..."
She lay on her back on the bed and looked up at Quinn with new eyes. The intensity of the stare clearly shook the blonde, who stood at the door nervously looking back at her.
"Are you alright?" Quinn's voice was raspy from the throat infection she'd been fighting off all week. Technically she wasn't allowed anywhere near Rachel, as per Rachel's orders, but where the rules were practically written in stone for others, they were more guidelines for Quinn.
"Yes. I'm fine."
There was more silence and Quinn let herself into the room. She sat by Rachel's hip, running her fingers over Rachel's. Her therapist had encouraged her to start giving Rachel some minor physical contact when she had talked about her jumbled up feelings for her. Quinn wasn't normally very touchy - Finn could attest to that - but her therapist had suggested she try being more relaxed.
She didn't notice the way Rachel stiffened as she started caressing her hand. Quinn's mind wandered away to comfortable evenings with Rachel and the game night they would be having later. They still weren't talking very much but it was fun, playing those games. It made her feel like a part of the family. While Quinn lost herself in thought, Rachel watched her.
Rachel had no idea how she felt about finding out that Quinn had slept with both Brittany and Santana. Simultaneously.
What little she had figured out was that she was furious. Angry that Quinn had kept this from her and she had to find out from Santana of all people. Mad that someone had stolen being Quinn's first woman away from her. If she were completely honest, she would admit to jealousy. If she were to look too deeply, she would find herself aroused.
And then guilty and frustrated because she wasn't sure what she was more jealous of: that Quinn had slept with two other women before her, or that she was finding herself in an increasingly complicated relationship with Quinn that would probably end up with her only ever having experienced sex with one woman. And technically, it wasn't right for her to feel jealous, since they hadn't really defined or moved forward in their relationship anyway.
It frightened her how utterly final everything felt. Quinn was the one. She could sense it more definitively every day, but she wanted to experience more. And Quinn had so many issues to get through before she could - or should - settle down.
Which was why Rachel decided not to say anything stupid; Quinn really didn't need someone accusing her of having a threesome with her two female former friends. It would have been cruel and foolish on Rachel's part. She made a mental note to ask Brittany for the truth the next time she saw her alone.
Santana could have been bullshitting her. The look on her face had been so intense that Rachel had gotten sucked in. Shock could have easily clouded Rachel's judgement and made her perceive honesty where there had been none. It was just such a convoluted story that it had taken her aback. Former head Cheerio, Celibacy Club president Quinn Fabray had a threesome with her two best friends?
Rachel let herself smirk a little before she entwined their fingers and tugged Quinn down beside her so they could cuddle.
The idea was ludicrous. But she was Rachel Berry, too neurotic to simply let it go, so she would make sure of it with Brittany.
****
"Oh Brittany... your grammar is all over the place..."
"Yeah, I know..."
Rachel fought the urge to tear her hair out. Things were not going according to plan.
A few days previous, she had offered to help Brittany work on her essay on global warming for their World Issues class, hoping to find a way to talk to her about what Santana had said.
She had picked the most secluded corner of the public library to talk to Brittany, which seemed to confuse her momentarily, but before Rachel could ask Brittany had simply shrugged and taken her seat at the table. Rachel had hoped to spend about ten minutes or so looking over the paper and then find a way to talk to Britt about Santana. But ten minutes ended up being an hour.
"Brittany! You can't just say it's getting warmer." She tried to keep her voice lower. "Seriously. You wrote five pages without any proper citation or mention of scientific study."
Her anal-retentiveness was hit hard and Rachel found herself signing out several books on Brittany's behalf - because she didn't have her own library card - and started outlining Brittany's arguments.
For the most part, Brittany sat there looking pretty and nodding at everything Rachel said.
"Okay... let's take a break." Rachel sighed wearily.
"Sorry. If I knew we were actually going to like, write stuff up, I would have worked a little harder." Brittany murmured, playing with her hair serenely. Rachel's left eye twitched dangerously.
"Brittany." She started slowly, the strain obvious in her voice. "I said we were going to the library. To edit. To work. What exactly did you think we were going to be doing?"
"Oh." She smirked at Rachel. "Well you said we'd find a quiet spot in the library. Where, like, no one would bother us. And then you took us here where the librarians can't see us. This is a make out spot."
Part Two