This was fun to write. (:

Quinn had thought, after Brittany had done an amazing job cutting her hair in New York, that maybe the taller blonde had some sort of talent with hair. After all, hers always looked amazing, and she'd done Santana's hair numerous times in the past. But neither of them dyed their hair so maybe giving Brittany the benefit of the doubt on that front had been a bit… premature. "It's… it's pink." She stared at her reflection, the unforgiving florescent lighting making her new hair color pop even more. It stood out sharply against her pale skin and contrasted harshly with her hazel eyes.

"Yep, sure is." Santana stood behind her, slight frame propped against the wall. Her arms were folded across her chest, head cocked slightly as their eyes met in the mirror.

"I thought we said red. Something darker, more natural. This… This is not natural."

"Nope."

"Santana, I thought you were going to go with Brittany to help her pick out the right dye," she said through gritted teeth. When she focused on her, the Latina smirked and lifted a shoulder.

"I did," she returned pleasantly.

Horrified and trying not to show it, Quinn ran a hand through her freshly dyed hair and whimpered quietly, wishing she'd never made the stupid decision to initiate a change in her life. This looked awful. She looked like a grungy punk rock wannabe, and that was not a look she could rock for real. She opened her mouth to say something about fixing it, but when her eyes flickered back to Santana's reflection, she noted the brunette rubbing a nervous-looking Brittany's shoulder as if to reassure her she hadn't missed up Quinn's hair. The blonde's lip was caught between her teeth, fingers twisting together as she stared at the ground. Despite her and Santana's on-off competition and the open hostility they sometimes displayed, Quinn had never found it in her to passive-aggressively insult or hurt Brittany in any way. That was the one part of Santana's life she never tried to use against her, the one thing she let the Latina keep private. Boob jobs? Those were open season, but she wouldn't hurt what Santana and Brittany had. And she just wouldn't hurt Brittany in general.

Santana looked up at her, glared into the reflection of her eyes. Don't fuck this up, Fabray. She could practically hear the words coming from the brunette's mouth before she leaned over and whispered something to Brittany. Watching them, Quinn felt this overwhelming surge of envy and sadness. Sure, they'd been the Unholy Trinity since they were kids, but she found that a lot of the time that turned into BrittanyandSantana and Quinn. Like she was the third wheel in their permanent life date, and it kind of sucked. "It looks… cool, B." Her words had the blonde looking up, sad eyes brightening with pure delight at the comment. "I just need to get used to it, I think, but yeah. I could pull this look off."

"Oh, good! I'm sorry we chose pink without your permission, Quinn. We just thought…" She looked briefly to Santana and then back. "Well, I thought you needed to live a little, you know? Santana said it was a good idea." Aka Santana thought it would be a good joke. Quinn forced a smile and nodded, fingering her bright hair again.

"Yeah, it was a good idea. Um. Let's go watch the movie." And so they did, the three of them eating popcorn and laughing over Mean Girls while sipping wine coolers. Soon the night was over and Quinn got up, stretching as she headed for the door. "Need a ride, Britt?" she asked as she slid into her coat. The dancer shook her head and smiled.

"Nope. Spending the night here," she replied, fingers running through a drifting Santana's dark hair. The Latina had stretched out on the couch with her head on Brittany's lap and she waved vaguely when Quinn nodded and said a quiet goodbye.

As she climbed into her car, Quinn felt another one of those overwhelming waves of loneliness. She loved those two. She did. They were her best friends- pretty much her only friends. But they loved each other more than they could ever love her, and their love was the most unique thing she'd ever witnessed. Beautiful and heartbreaking, and so far out of Quinn's league of understanding that it was impossible for her to label it. It was something that she would never have, and it was the one thing that kept her from being fully and completely connected to them. Which put Quinn in her own world and no one understood that, not even the therapist she went to twice a week (Wednesdays and Fridays, 12:30-2:30 like clockwork).

Sighing, Quinn pulled away from the Lopez house and drove aimlessly, not quite willing to go home in this mood. She drove and drove until she eventually pulled up in front of a convenience store, eyes locked on the front. Inside lay endless amounts of cheap booze and cigarettes. She could be just like her mother, she thought. It would be so easy. Her older sister had given her her old id when she'd moved out, telling her with a wink to have some fun once in a while. She'd never used it, but God, it would be so easy… Quinn climbed from the car and wandered towards the door, fingers absently playing with the pleated of her skirt. To go in or not to go in…

"You gonna buy some smokes?" The voice was close and obviously directed at her. She glanced sideways, eyeing the thin brunette with a lifted eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry. Just figured, looking like that, you're probably buying cigs and some booze. Care to share, Bubblegum? Make it worth your while." She stepped forward, head tilting slightly as she looked Quinn up and down. Her appraisal made Quinn squirm uncomfortably. She was looking at her in a way she sometimes saw her friends look at each other- like she wanted to devour her. "Name's Mack. Least that's what people call me."

"… Quinn. Quinn Fabray."

And so began Quinn's association with the Skanks… And her first lesbian affair. Mack, it turned out, liked to kiss more than just truck drivers.

—-

"Quinn, seriously. What the fuck?" Santana cornered her in the bathroom after scaring off the other skanks with a single scowl and barked order. It was the first day back at McKinley and she was working her new look, shocking people left and right. Santana appeared to be more pissed than shocked, though. Maybe that was because of their earlier encounter on the field. "That hair should have been fixed ages ago, first of all. And second of all, if you weren't going to redye it, you could have at least washed it in the past month you've been ignoring me and Britt."

"Good one," Quinn drawled as she penciled on more eyeliner. "You've really gotten clever over the summer, S. Proud of you." The words were said calmly, yet somehow managed to drip sarcasm. Santana's scowl deepened and she stepped forward, snatching the cigarette from behind Quinn's ear and lighting it. She took a drag and then tossed it in the sink.

"You're a fucking mess, Fabray. Look at you. What the hell are you doing with your life?"

"I could ask you the same question." Hazel eyes shifted to focus on the Latina, deliberately dragged over her. An eyebrow lifted as she took in the Cheerios uniform. "Sue's minion again, Santana? Really? After she nearly shot Britt out of a cannon last year? It's really pathetic that you've crawled back to her after all this time." She smirked and capped her eyeliner, just in time for Santana to shove her harshly backwards. Her body slammed into the bathroom wall and Santana pinned her there, breathing hard as she glared furiously into her eyes.

"You don't know a fucking thing about it, Quinn, so fuck you!" she snarled. "You think I wanted this? You think I fucking want Britt back in that psycho lady's grip? No fucking way! But I…" She froze, backed off abruptly. "Never mind. Think whatever the fuck you want, Fabray. Enjoy your skanks and your grime and your fucking lesbian experiment with that Mack chick. You're not worth my time anymore." She took a step to leave and Quinn found herself stepping after her without thinking, a soft wait escaping. Santana stopped, but didn't turn.

"Why did you join the Cheerios again, Santana?" Quinn asked quietly. The Cheerios captain turned her head a little, smiled bitterly.

"Out by blood, Fabray. Cheerios until we die. In the skirt or out, people like you and me? We'll always be in Sue Sylvester's control. She owns us because she knows us. And if I want to keep everyone else from knowing me, I have to find a way to sabotage Glee club again. It's got to look like an accident and I've got to keep both. I can't lose…" She trailed off, but Quinn didn't need her to finish the sentence. The whole thing was suddenly so clear to her, and maybe she wasn't close with Santana like both of them were close to Brittany, but she still understood the Latina. Besties for life.

"I'll help you."

—-

Rachel left and Quinn spun on Mack, gripped her shirt tightly. "If you ever touch her, Mack, I swear-"

"Why do you still fucking want her, Quinn, huh?" Mack shoved her back, eyes glittering. "Why? She don't want you. She's got her man, your ex-man, and she don't want nothin' to do with you! Why don't you stop crawling after that fucking bitch and see what's in front of you, huh?"

Quinn stared at Mack, slowly shook her head. "Don't pretend to understand Rachel, Mack. And don't pretend to understand me. We've fucked, and it's been really great between us. We're friends and I don't want to lose that. But don't go near Rachel or even say shit to her because then I won't even fucking question whether or not I want you around. The answer will be no." She turned and marched from under the bleachers, hand tossing aside the cigarette she'd been clutching.

"You're the first girl I ever loved, Quinn, c'mon," Mack called, her voice cracking. "Don't go."

She paused, sighed, closed hazel eyes. Suddenly she felt so tired, so sorry for getting into all of this. "I'll see you guys later, okay? I just… I'll see you later."

—

"Aaaaaand, voila!" Brittany spun Quinn around, grinning as she fluffed her short hair out with her fingers. "You're blonde again." She giggled and leaned her chin on Quinn's shoulder, pecked her cheek merrily. "You look like a lion, Quinn!"

"Are you really just… going back to glee?" Santana had been quiet throughout the whole process and Quinn glanced at her then, watched her closely. The Latina was withdrawn, her arms wrapped tightly around her stomach. She knew that Santana had been kicked out of glee not long before and that she missed it. She knew that Sylvester was holding her one secret – the only one Quinn never would have touched – over her head and that she couldn't really decide to go back on her own. Which, sucked for her. If Quinn could make it as easy as dyeing her hair for her, she'd do it. But Santana had to make big life decisions if she really wanted back in Glee. There was no helping her.

"I'm going back," she agreed with a nod. She gave Brittany's forehead a light peck and stood, hands running down her skirt.

"Why?"

To anyone else, a lie would have been easy. To anyone else, like the rest of the glee club, she would smile and reply that she'd missed it. But this was Brittany and Santana and the Latina's dark eyes saw too much and Brittany had never done her wrong. She watched the taller blonde move to Santana's side, watched the way her hand slid behind her back where Santana's own arm was hidden. She had no doubt their fingers laced against the bright red of her uniform's back. "To clean up my act a little," she murmured, thinking of Shelby's words. "I'm going to get Beth back."

Anyone else might have been shocked or disgusted. Quinn wouldn't have blamed them. Santana and Brittany didn't even look surprised. They just looked at one another, a million and one words passing between them before their eyes landed back on Quinn. "We'll help you," Santana said, lips quirking slightly.

And Quinn realized that perhaps she wasn't the third wheel on their life after all.