Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Glee writers and creators.
A/N: Because I'm taking forever on WIPs, this is to hold people over. I'm very tired, so it got really…crack!ficish.
Canon through: 2x16 "Original Song"
Notice: Like I said. Crack!fic. Don't get all serious on me.
It had been going on for a few months now. Starting, of course, when Quinn first befriended Rachel with the idea of joining their talents in writing an original song for Regionals, and picking up again after the blonde voted the brunette in as MVP, triggering their very first make up as friends. Things were still a little rocky on the Finn front (when weren't they, really?), seeing as Rachel was still determined that they were meant to be (what better sign than their perfectly mashed portmanteau, Finchel; Quinn maintained that it sounded like some kind of mutated bird) and Quinn was still determined that she was meant to be Prom Queen, which the brunette wasn't about to argue with—on the contrary, she most fervently agreed, and upon the reinstatement of their friendship, assigned herself the hefty task of acting as Quinn's campaign manager.
The battle was long and arduous, particularly when Santana joined in the race for the crown (Quinn merely scoffed at this until Rachel pointed out that their new opponent clearly wielded the 'fear' vote; it was decided shortly after this that the blonde should slushie the brunette to cultivate her Head Bitch image—Quinn wasn't sure what shocked her more: that it had been Rachel's idea, or that she'd had to convince her to do it). But, in the end, it was proven that there was no beating the Ice Queen of the West and Rachel Berry (titles were unnecessary in her case, as everyone knew what that name entailed) teamed together. Quinn got her crown, Finn got his pink slip, having served his purpose, and Rachel got her man back.
This did not, by any means, stop what Quinn and Rachel were doing. In fact, if anything, the brunette's borderline obsessive devotion to aiding the blonde in reaching her goal only spurred the Prom Queen to instigate it more often. Rachel certainly wasn't complaining.
The glee club had gradually become more aware of the budding closeness between the two girls, often receiving hints about it in the form of a sharp, hissed comment from the shockingly protective blonde when a derogatory statement was made about her brunette counterpart, or a suggestion for the active use of the former cheerleader's voice from the abnormally generous diva. They got used to the new alliance, and all that it entailed. Even Finn couldn't bring himself to whine about spending every single lunch hour in the company of his bitchy ex-girlfriend; it was too much of a relief to them all that at least one hostile relationship in their club had been patched up. It gave them a sort of hope, even. Though as far as Santana was concerned, Artie had no business hoping for anything from her (the asshole).
Anyway, as used to the new friendship as the glee club was, none of them were quite prepared for a public display of what Quinn and Rachel had been doing behind closed doors for months. So when they all piled into the brunette's home in the last, dwindling days of June to celebrate their third place trophy from Nationals (and, well, the fact that they had all gone to New York—and in some cases, that they hadn't gotten mugged) and said hostess popped in the agreed upon movie (the first of the Harry Potters; it had been decided that a marathon would both entertain all of them whilst avoiding arguments and keep Rachel quiet for an extended period of time) before waltzing straight past the waiting arms of her smiling boyfriend and plopping onto the couch next to her reclining blonde friend, who instantly tugged the diva's back to her front before proceeding to melt around her body—arms, legs, a whole big tangle of limbs—the glee club was, to say the least, a little shocked.
Especially Finn. He was turning red. Puck made a point of dragging one of Rachel's defenseless bar stools out of the range of fire (just in case) before returning to the business of staring at the oblivious two, one of whom was burying her nose in lustrous brunette locks while the other fiddled with the pale fingers dangling over her stomach.
Brown eyes traveled from the hand she was playing with up to her red-faced boyfriend, and something seemed to click. Although perhaps not the right something, in said boyfriend's mind. "Hmm? Oh, yes, I forgot the remote next to the DVD player, would someone mind passing it to me?"
Sam robotically reached and fumbled for it before passing it along the row until it reached Rachel's waiting hand. She smiled, said her thank you, and proceeded to skip the previews. All the while ignoring the fact that she and her human blanket were the center of attention. Either that or just not noticing. Finn was under the impression that it was the former, which of course only made his face go even redder and that vein in his neck stick out farther. It was rather unattractive.
Mercedes was the first to break the silence (beyond the well-known melody bursting from the speakers).
"So…when did you guys start…uh…?" She gestured futilely, glancing at Kurt for help, which he did not supply. He offered only a shrug of his shoulders before leaning into a very confused Blaine, who frankly didn't see what the big deal was. It was quite obvious he was new.
"When did you guys become lady friends like me and San?" Brittany supplied helpfully, eyes bright and smile cheery. Santana proceeded to facepalm in misery, while Artie pretended he didn't hear that. He'd become quite good at that over the duration of his relationship with Brittany, who was honestly beginning to worry about her boyfriend's hearing—and worse, his thingy. All the other guys she made out with got turned on when she talked about her and Santana's escapades, but it didn't seem to faze Artie.
Rachel's expression was the picture of puzzlement, while Quinn merely chortled as the fingers that had been abandoned for the remote traced designs over the thin periwinkle fabric covering the brunette's abdomen and her right foot rubbed a smooth line up and down the diva's left. Finn was rapidly turning green at the whole image.
"Rachel, please tell me she's not…I mean, that you don't…and you're—"
"The long patches of silence are making this development kind of boring," Lauren interjected. "Berry, got any real food in this house?"
"I do believe my father keeps a box of sugar cookies on the second shelf of the pantry in the back, if you're referring to non-vegan food items," Rachel replied slowly.
"Thank you, sweet Jesus," the wrestler said, and Puck let out an unmanly yelp when she gripped the collar of his tee shirt and dragged him up the stairs. It was a testament to how much he'd grown that he didn't come bolting back down the stairs to find out if Quinn and Rachel really were engaging in an activity he'd imagined—with him present more often than not—at least three times a day since joining glee club (which he thought quite good, considering men on average have a sexual thought every seven seconds).
It took seven and a half seconds for someone to speak again, as all ears were trained on the retreating footsteps above them (it was hastily decided that Lauren was not actually hungry for food, or if she was, the stop at the pantry had been brief). In the space of those seven and a half seconds, a total of fifteen sexual thoughts occurred. Not all of them originated from males. At least two originated from a blonde girl.
"So," Kurt said, steering the conversation back to the two on the couch. "You two cuddle now."
"Are there sweet lady kisses, too?" Brittany asked, quite excitedly.
Rachel was still the picture of confusion. "Of course we cuddle," she affirmed, brow knitting most adorably before separating to allow a grin to spread across her cheeks. "We're friends with benefits, right, Quinn?"
Said blonde ignored the many pairs of wide eyes now settling on her, instead focusing her smirk directly on the brunette, who rolled slightly backward to meet her gaze. She squeezed her side and assured her, "Of course."
"But—no! This is totally unfair!" Finn bellowed, shooting to his feet. "Rachel, you're dating me!" He pointed to himself, just in case his volume and actual words hadn't been enough.
She nodded, brow tightening again. "Well, yes."
"You can't…have like, benefits with Quinn while you're dating me! I thought you learned that with what happened with Puck last year!"
"Noah and I never had benefits," Rachel replied, lower lip poking out in her bewilderment.
"Uh, hello! Do you not remember making out with him?" Finn barked.
Before the brunette could reply, Santana interjected with a slightly raised hand, "Technically that's just a perk."
"Plus that's different, right, San?" Brittany added. "Like you said, with a girl it's not cheating because the plumbing's different." Artie did not hear this.
"What are you talking about?" Rachel cut in again, alarmed. "I never cheated on Finn! How could you think I would do that again?"
"You just said you're friends with benefits with Quinn. Who also happened to cheat on me. I can't believe this! This is bullshit!" Finn roared, throwing up his hands.
The barstool Puck moved was grateful.
"I don't want to hear it! You know what? I can't even deal with this right now. I'm out of here!"
The slam of the door vibrated the house, and the sound was quickly followed by a heavy sigh from Kurt.
"I'd better go after him. He's very…touchy after this sort of thing," he said distastefully, and Blaine helped him up. "He's such a girl sometimes, really."
The others called their goodbyes before turning back to the couple on the couch, a few glares in the mix now.
"What are you staring at?" Quinn snarled, pulling a dumbfounded Rachel further into her embrace and glowering at the others.
"Quinn, you know I've got your back, but was this really necessary?" Mercedes retorted.
"I don't understand what I did to make him so upset," Rachel mumbled.
"You're cheating on him—for the second time—with Quinn—who also cheated on him—and you don't know what you did?" Tina prompted incredulously.
"I'm not cheating on Finn!" she exclaimed, and the blonde rubbed a soothing hand over the length of her side.
"Plumbing," Brittany cited again, nodding happily.
"Okay, I hate to say anything in defense of the douche that stole my girlfriend," Sam said, "but just because you call it 'friends' doesn't make the 'benefits' part any less cheating. And I don't know who told you that, Brittany, but 'plumbing' doesn't matter."
"Do you or Artie pay attention to your girlfriends at all?" Mike asked irritably, leaving the two looking as dumbfounded as Rachel.
"I still don't understand. How is my cuddling with Quinn considered cheating on Finn?" Rachel burst out, taking solace in the soft skin of the arms currently tucked tight around her ribcage.
"It's not," Quinn soothed. "Finn's just being…difficult."
"Whoa, whoa, wait." Mercedes gaped at them. "You mean all you guys are doing is cuddling? You're not…like…having sex?" She practically whispered the last part, eliciting an eye-roll from every non-virgin in the room.
"Wherever did you get that idea!" Rachel replied shortly, looking mildly offended.
"You said benefits," Tina reminded her.
"Yes, precisely. We cuddle, as a benefit of being friends."
Santana promptly burst into body-shaking laughter, sending the diva's brow knitting for what felt like the millionth time in the space of the last twenty minutes or so. The Harry Potter theme was becoming quite tiresome.
The brunette hesitantly glanced over her shoulder at a displeased-looking blonde. "That…that's what you said it meant, right?"
The scowl on Quinn's face melted away at Rachel's innocent, uncertain tone and she promptly nuzzled her nose into the crook of the diva's neck, eliciting a girlish giggle. "Yes, that's what it is exactly."
Santana snorted, drawing the attention back to her and her by now silent laughter. Silent because it was so hard they were pretty sure only dogs could hear it at this point. Tears were streaming from the corners of her eyes, which Brittany hurriedly kissed away. Sam and Artie were deaf, though, not blind, and they quickly went from mildly disturbed and confused to red-faced and vein-popping. The barstool quivered in fear.
"Oh, my God, Q!" Santana snorted again. It was an altogether unpleasant sound, yet it somehow managed to spur the Asians and the other diva of the room into giggles. "You are so gay!"
Quinn stiffened, sneering at the hysterical girl. "First off, you're one to talk. And second, I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh, come on, really? I have to spell it out?" At the confused looks of everyone else in the room, including a gobsmacked Rachel, Santana let Brittany kiss away the evidence of the rest of her tears before composing herself and studiously ignoring the glares from both Sam and Artie as she explained, "You think I don't know a repressed homosexual denial tactic when I hear one? I wrote the book on that, Q, and the whole 'oh, no, it's doesn't really mean anything, everyone does this, trust me' trick is in like chapter one, okay?"
"Quinn? What is she talking about?" Rachel prodded softly, craning her neck to look back at the girl cradling her, who was training a murderous glare on her very much ex-best friend.
"Wait. Hold the phone. You're gay?" Sam yelped, and Mike facepalmed along with both Mercedes and Tina.
"You didn't somehow gather this from their performance of 'Landslide'?" Mike prompted tiredly.
"Wait, Brittany is, too?" Artie exclaimed. "I can't believe you would…why have you never told me?"
"But, Artie, I'm not gay." There was a pause. "I'm bisexual."
"How could you not tell me?"
"Yeah, and you, too!" Sam added, furious.
"I-I thought you knew," Brittany pleaded. "I'm sorry."
Artie fumed, folding his arms, while Sam glared down at Santana. Who eventually noticed and scowled.
"If you didn't get that I wasn't into you after 'Trouty Mouth', then it really isn't my fault."
"You know what? I completely forgot about that until just now," Sam said angrily, and Santana just shot him an unimpressed look. "We are done, okay? Over! And I'm not staying in the same room with you right now. I'm out of here."
"Me, too," Artie agreed, but his dramatic storm out died a bit when he hit the stairs. "Uh…Mike, Sam, could you…?"
Sam hurried back down and Mike rolled his eyes. "Sure, hold on."
"I think we should go anyway," Tina added, brushing off. "This day has been weird enough already."
"Totally with you, girl," Mercedes said, trailing after her and the boys.
"Thanks for the party, Rachel; it was…short," she called back to the pouting brunette.
"I really thought Artie knew," Brittany commented forlornly, and Santana rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.
"It's not your fault," she soothed. "He's just a shitty boyfriend. Me, on the other hand? I know you're bisexual, so…."
"So you wouldn't get mad at me if I told you I was?" she finished excitedly, bouncing on her crossed legs.
Santana grinned. "Exactly."
"You wanna have fun time at my house again?"
"I thought you'd never ask; let's go, baby."
The two were up and out the door faster than Quinn had ever seen them move, and that included Cheerios practices where Coach Sylvester attached fuses to their shoes to 'improve their pathetically snail-like levels of speed.' The blonde shook her head of the nightmare-inducing thoughts and nestled her nose back in the crook of Rachel's neck, eyeing the still-playing Harry Potter menu with distaste.
"Rach, why don't you shut that off? I don't think we're going to end up having that marathon—at least not today," she added hastily when she felt the girl start to droop.
"I suppose you're right," she replied, stopping it and shutting down the power before carelessly tossing the remote to the floor, her hands returning to Quinn's pale arms and rubbing them up and down. "It's been a…strange morning."
She hummed her agreement. "I'm sure Finn won't stay angry with you too long. Once you explain, anyway."
"Honestly, I'm not all that concerned about it," Rachel replied cautiously, swallowing the sudden thickness in her throat as she felt Quinn's foot still its rubbing motions up and down her calf.
The blonde leaned closer, over her neck. "You're not?"
The undeniable interest in those two purred words gave the brunette the courage to swallow the lump down enough to eke out, "I was more thinking about…what Santana said."
Quinn's entire body tightened, her tone cold when she prompted, "Oh?"
"Yes. Exactly what benefits am I missing out on that 'everyone' supposedly does?" Rachel asked curiously, digging her teeth into her plump bottom lip as she peered demurely through her lashes up at the blonde partly hovering over her.
A smirk twisted Quinn's pink lips, her foot resumed its rubbing, and the last coherent thing Rachel remembered being said was, "Allow me to educate you."