I can't sleep. I had a glass of wine at dinner and five beers since then and I can't fucking sleep. I won't even pass out, like a good little girl. I'm not comfortable; I'm not well - not since Santana had that 'talk' with me.

Six Hours Ago

"She knows."

"No she doesn't. She's fine."

"Ok, she's 'fine' but she knows, Q."

My eyes leave the glassware and snap to Santana's. "What makes you so sure?"

She stares at me hard and for a long while. We did this is high school. We would stare until the other backed down. Am I supposed to be the one who backs down this time? Am I supposed to fold? Santana knows me better than that.

Her fingers twitch before she asks, "She spent the night?"



I don't want to answer this. I don't want to go there right now.

"Beth said she woke the two of you up on the couch." I won't look at Santana but I can tell that she's searching my face and body for any clues; I can feel it. "Right?"

"That's right." And all of the sudden I feel like I've been punched in the stomach. I feel so vulnerable right now, like everyone knows all my dirty little secrets. But it's just Santana that knows Rachel. Oh my god.

"She wants that little actress around all the time now." My heart swells slightly at that but I also catch myself grimacing.

"That 'little actress? What the hell is that supposed to mean Santana?" I feel my anger and defenses rising and I can see hers follow. But then they dissipate. Sometimes, I feel Santana has so much more than I have since high school. Sometimes, I envy that.

"I just mean that…" She ends on sigh - a tell-tale sign that she knows I don't want to hear whatever she's about to say to me. But after seven-plus years of friendship, we both know that I need to hear whatever it is. "Rachel's had you wrapped around her little finger since what? Senior year?"

There's a pause, but we both know what I'm contemplating saying. "Since I first saw her."

"Yeah…" I can see in my peripheral that Santana has gone from protective friend to sympathetic conscience. "I just don't want you hurt. Not any more than you've been hurting since this thing started. Cause if you ask me, you've asked for everything up until now-"

"I didn't ask you." Sometimes that head bitch in charge still comes out.

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure you know what's about to happen." Santana says frustrated, but still serious. I need to just listen here. She's my best friend. "Cause Beth is about to start asking questions. She's gonna wanna know why Rachel is here suddenly? If it's been going on for longer than she knows? Because you know that kid better than anyone, Q, and she fucking knows."

I think on that for a long minute, mostly because I've drunken my wine much faster than I usually would, if I weren't having a conversation with my best friend about how my six year old daughter probably knows a whole lot about my… girlfriend? Whatever, my daughter knows. "What should I do?"

"That's up to you, Q. And Berry, but mostly you."

"That's it?"

"I've never had to do this. Not even close."



Dinner had gone well after that. Surprisingly, considering I wasn't eating much, but drinking instead. Santana had put Beth to bed while I said goodnight to Rachel. That was short and… not very sweet, admittedly. I had too much on my mind to be very sweet to Rachel. And she definitely noticed. I've forwarded two calls from her in the last three hours. Score for me there. At least I have a girl that can take a hint.

I wish sleep and nightmares would just take me.

AN: So super fucking short. I'm sorry. I just wanted to get something out there so I could focus on what happens next. Which, I believe, will be more of Quinn's perspective :-)

I have been so humbled by all the new reviews and favorites and follows. You all are truly amazing. Thank you so much for staying tuned. And please, message me ideas for this lovely, complicated, confused couple.