Title: You're my missing ingredient

Author: cracon

Rating: PG13

Length: 1098

Pairings / Characters: Rachel/Quinn, Santana, Kurt, Hiram/Leroy Berry

Spoilers: let's see … S4 is a mess and I stopped watching, what I watched of S4 I can't remember, so probably everything up to the finale of S3 is fair game

Summary: Maybe she should've moved in with her cousin who's living in Chicago instead.

A/N: For my sister from another mister, JT. And her little dog, too.

A/N 2: I watched a lot of My Drunk Kitchen for this (no regrets), and searched the internet for really bad pick-up lines. Hopefully y'all appreciate this.

It was out of necessity at first.

After they all finished college it's not like they were all instantly rolling around in money. (Rachel was the only one with a steady income, but it's not like she earned millions in her—Santana has begrudgingly learned to accept it—great off-off-Broadway shows.) So, the three of them moved in together.

Rachel and Quinn got together in their senior year of college (so, you know … a while ago), and have been a cute couple since then. So cute that it sickened Santana whenever she was between girlfriends. But they got along just fine after they enforced a system of when to stay clear of the apartment and how wonderful the concept of knocking before entering a room actually is.

So, yes, they're good friends at this point. (After that whole awkward phase in the beginning when Santana slept with Quinn after the wedding of Mr. Shuester and Ms. Pillsbury, and Rachel's jealousy-train hit her with full force and she contemplated sleeping in the subway stations at night—the possibility to be murdered there was decidedly smaller than sleeping in the loft she shared with Rachel and Kurt.)

She loves the shit out of them, but she'd never tell them that.

"Did you sit in a pile of sugar?"

Especially when this shit was going on.

"What?" Quinn was definitely confused, Santana could tell.

"Because you've got a pretty sweet ass."

Maybe she should've moved in with her cousin who's living in Chicago instead.

. . .

He's her best friend.

Sure, they had their ups and downs in college, who hasn't, but at the core of it they always made up after an argument.

But there is only so much mushy stuff he can handle in the week leading up to Valentine's Day, especially when he's single. Santana would probably understand.

He also blames the fact that somewhere along the way Rachel gave up bedazzling and now their phones look exactly the same.

But still, when he accidentally reads the text message from Quinn that was meant for his best friend, he just wants to bleach his eyes.

"If it's true that we are what we eat, I could be you by morning!"

. . .

Hiram Berry likes Quinn Fabray.

She's a nice young woman who isn't afraid to call his daughter out on her idiosyncrasies. (He loves his little Racheles, but, well, theatrical insanity runs in the family. In Leroy's family, that is.) The most important thing however is that she loves her, so he is willing to overlook that they they're at an age and at a stage in their relationships where physical stuff is happening.

He is doing such a good job at overlooking this, that he misses the obvious innuendo that is dripping from Rachel's "I'd take you the bakery, but there's nothing sweeter than you," she whispers at Quinn while Leroy and he are on their monthly Skype date with them.

It would be a sweet gesture, if not for Rachel's waggling eyebrows and Quinn's rapidly reddening face.

Thankfully those Yoga lessons he spent a lot of money on make it incredibly easy to find his happy place in his head in record time.

. . .

Leroy Berry is wary of Quinn Fabray.

Don't get him wrong, he loves her as much as one can love a future potential in-law. But unlike his husband he isn't able to shut out the fact that this woman is defiling his baby girl on a probably pretty regular basis.

It's always there on the forefront of his mind whenever he sees her. He doesn't want to think about it, but he just can't seem to stop. Because aside of that fact she is actually a lovely woman and he wants to think of other things.

He wants to think about how Quinn graduated top of her class in Yale, and how a marriage with Rachel will give him infinite bragging rights in his circle of friends. He wants to think about how happy she makes his daughter, how Rachel's smile is brightening up the whole room as soon as she sees Quinn or Quinn is just mentioned, something her high school and college boyfriends never were able to accomplish. He wants to think about how Quinn is supporting his daughter's career as much as she can, be it by helping her learn a scene, or rehearse a song, or make her lunch and honest to god hide it in her bag, because Rachel once again left their apartment in a hurry, too stressed out over either a potential audition or whatever was going on in her play that week and she had forgotten to eat breakfast but now at least she had a nutritious lunch with her.

He wants to think about all of that.

Instead, all he is able to remember when he sets eyes on her in their Skype date is a snippet of a conversation she had with his daughter when they visited for their 4th July party.

"I do not fancy wines, I prefer moans."

Maybe he should've gone to those Yoga classes with his husband.

. . .

It's Valentine's Day, finally, and they managed to get Santana out of the apartment. (They aren't quite sure why she yelled "Frankly my dear I don't give Edam!" at them when they tried to lure her out with the promise of a free meal at her favourite italian restaurant in New York, but they aren't questioning it.)

They share a magnificent home-cooked meal, courtesy of Quinn, and some champagne Rachel bought.

Later, when they lie on their bed, trying to catch their breath again after round … whatever they just had (it's way past midnight, so who cares), Rachel manages to muster up the energy to turn her head towards her girlfriend.

"So, was it Gouda for you?"

Quinn's laughter is subtle at first, just a shaking of her shoulders, until she throws her right arm over her face, biting her biceps to keep herself from full-on laughter.

"I love you," she manages to say after her laughter quiets down to wheezing, "But for the sake of everybody else, we should probably stop with the food-related pick-up lines."

Rachel just smiles at her, before she suddenly rolls away from Quinn. The bedside table is opened and closed and Rachel is back in her spot again, a suspicious looking box held to her chest.

"Just one more. When it comes to me, you've got free range."