AN: I promise this is a Quintana Fic. This is just a kind of Prologue.

It's the night after our first day of Senior Year and I find myself sitting cross legged on Brittany's white comforter painting Brittany's toenails. We're listening to music and talking about school and Glee and generally wishing it was still summer. I have a vodka lemonade calling my name from the bedside table and Brittany is flicking though a magazine while sipping on her own drink. We eventually run out of stuff to talk about and fall into an easy silence.

After what must have been at least ten minutes of quiet Brittany puts down her magazine and looks up to where I'm sitting, "You're allowed to want her you know."

I have no idea what she's talking about. Brittany has this odd tendency to start conversations mid way through. I know that this habit can make her seem vague and air headed. The blonde hair can sometimes make people assume she's certain things too. But the truth about my best friend is that she is actually a genius. Like certifiable. Brittany isn't slow. It's everyone else who's failing to keep up with her rapid thought processes.

I can almost forgive people for making negative assumptions about her intelligence because honestly, I only worked out the whole genius thing, like two years ago. Plus she kinda does let people talk her into some pretty stupid stuff. And she likes to play the bimbo thing up sometimes if stuff get tense and she wants everyone to laugh. Or if she's bored and wants people to laugh. Or if she's uncomfortable and wants everyone to laugh. So I don't automatically cut every person who assumes she's dumb.

My point being that even though Britt is off the charts smart, I can usually keep up with her. I am pretty smart and I know Brittany so well that I can usually follow her unique logic. Today though, I'm completely stumped.

"What do you mean Britt?" I have to ask but I keep painting her toenails, focusing on spreading the paint evenly. The bright pink little bottle is clasped tightly in my hand. If I spilled any of it I'd be fucked. I blow on the nails to dry them as I replace the brush into the bottle. Brittany doesn't say anything because she's waiting for me to look at her. Once I've stashed the bottle on the bedside table I lie down along Brittany's side, propped up on one elbow so I can look into her face and so I can sip at my vodka lemonade.

"Quinn. You're allowed to want her," she iterated slowly.

Okay, I'm still confused. We'd both seen the hot mess that is now Quinn Fabray at school that morning. It was the first time either of us had seen her in two months. The golden haired chastity queen had turned a serious new page for the new school year. We had been witness to the first cracks in the Fabray suit of armor when we were in New York last year. I honestly thought she was just in a bit of a funk.

Stupidly, I thought that a new haircut and some time away from school would get her back to her old self. I was so fucking wrong. At some point during the summer—probably the same time she stopped replying to texts from anyone and disappeared—she must have snapped. I imagine she was like an over tight rubber band. After everything with Beth and Prom Queen and then Finn dumping her at a fucking funeral like the doorknob her is Quinn finally just let go. So the first day back at school had seen a brand new Quinn Fabray. She waltzed into school late sporting a brand new badass persona. She'd at some point decided to go with the just-been-fucked hairstyle, tinging it with hot pink. It would have been totally hot if she hadn't looked so damn close to homeless.

She'd tied a low rise, floor length tie-die skirt around her waist and coupled it with a scrappy old T-shirt. With the sleeves rolled up and the middle cut out of it she actually managed to show a decent amount of skin which I could respect. But all in all she looked terrible. Kinda really fucking hot, but terrible. Well, the nose ring was gross and so was that ridiculous tattoo—God I hope it's temporary or something—so the fact that she was swaying her hips so much or smirking so convincingly with those kinda hot new sunglasses could only go so far to redeem her from the fact that she looked like a—okay, really hot—homeless person. What was my point again? Oh right Brittany is still looking at me.

"Umm Britt you'll have to bear with me for a sec cause I'm still not with you. Where do I want Quinn?"

Brittany smirked at the question. "On your face?"

Holy shit! Thank god I didn't decide to mix my vodka with orange juice or pink lemonade like Brittany did because I just sprayed that shit all over myself, the bed and Brittany's magazine. Brittany pats me on the back as I attempt to remove the offending liquid from my lungs.

"Holy shit Britt, do you have to say shit like that while I'm in the middle of a drink? Fuck!" I'm completely lost for words and Brittany just laughs. Fucking laughs. Like she just caught a midget crapping in the woods. Oh God. Scary visual place. A Berry visual place. I shudder involuntarily and wipe at my mouth as Brittany just smiles serenely down at me. "Why the fuck would I want Quinn...like that?"

She rolls her eyes at me as though I am truly stupid. "Because...She's all kinds of hot now. I totally caught you leering at her today. Everyone was. Including me."

I don't want to admit that she could be right. Quinn's been a friend and rival for too long for me to suddenly decide that I would like to bone her.

"Leering doesn't mean I want her Britt it just means that I have eyes. And Quinn has gone all hobo chic since the last time we saw her. Maybe the look works for her."

"It does work for her and you want her. On you. For sexy times," Brittany sighs and puts down her magazine as I take a calming sip of my drink. I'm wary of the iced beverage, not sure it isn't ready to make another break for the inside of my lungs. "I'm saying that it's okay and that you should go for it. I know the last couple of months have been hard."

I roll my eyes. Normally I'd reign it in but that right there, was the understatement of the century. The last three months have been hell. Ever since Brittany broke up with Artie we've been in this weird holding pattern. Without the holding. Britt says we're working on trusting each other again. Read: we're working on my 'trust issues' because apparently it's a thing.

Britt says that I need to trust that she won't abandon me for some boy again(Which I totally don't think is a thing anymore but whatever). I also need to learn to 'trust myself' not to tip toe back into the closet. Apparently I also need to learn to trust everyone else not to be a bunch of judgmental fucking assholes all the time(this is the tough one).

So long story short, my 'trust issues' have resulted in me having no sex for over three fucking months. It's ridiculous to think that me and Britt used to have way more sex when were were both with other people than we do now. Now that we have no other commitments and we've both agreed that we love each other and should be together, she's leaving me high and fucking dry.

"So connect the dots for me here Britt. You think...That I want Quinn," Brittany nods. "Which means...that I should...have sex with her?" I ask hesitantly and Brittany taps the side of her nose. "Because then I can...confirm that I have a secret hobo fetish?" Brittany scrunches up her nose. Wrong answer. "So that whenever you and I start having sex there can be a threesome..." I've barely got the words out and Brittany is shaking her head emphatically. "No threesomes, got it."

I think about our goals relating to my 'issues'. Things I have to accomplish before Brittany will have sex with me again. One: trust her not to run off with a boy again. Yeah, no. Sleeping with Fabray won't help with that. Two: generally rock the Lesbionic mojo permanently, trusting myself to not sneak back into the closet. That could be relevant. Three: stop assuming that every person that looks at me can sense my girl loving tendencies and hating me for it. That isn't gonna be fixed by anything other that an apocalypse so, no. Plus, if there's one person who has more trust issues than me it's Quinn. Even before the badass makeover from hell.

Brittany is still watching me with a patient expression, sipping slowly at her drink. I try again with my new theory. "Okay, hows this? I need to seduce and then sleep with the pressed lemon that is Quinn Fabray...So that I can...embrace my sapphic self?" Brittany mutely nods and urges me to continue. I'm pretty sure these charades are getting old fast but she obviously wants me to get this. And I'm kinda having fun so I play along. "Right, so I embrace my inner lesbo by sleeping with a girl who isn't you, also confirming that I am hot for girls in general and not just hot for your fine self." Brittany claps in celebration but remains silent.

I've missed something. Well fuck. I've run out of ideas so I look into Brittany's face and see a devious sparkle there. She's having way too much fun playing with me. And I love her so much that I not only let her but I actually like it. God, I'm whipped.

The answer hits me and I sit up excitedly. "I have it!" Brittany gives me a look that explicitly states finally you idiot so I spit it out in one embarrassing jumble of words. "Andthenwecanhavesex?"

Brittany must secretly hate me because she still doesn't say anything. She opens her lips, but only to for affect as she cups her hand to her ear as if she didn't hear me. Not cool. I've had enough of her little game and now it's my turn. I place my glass beside the bed and grin mischievously at Brittany to let her know I'm abouts to get sexy. She sets her glass on the bedside table next to mine as I crawl over her body to hover over her. I know I won't be getting very far before Brittany puts the breaks on but I decide to enjoy whatever I can get. I lean into her lightly with my knees on either side of her hips. I rest my hands on either side of her head, supporting my weight.

I turn the sexy on full throttle as I gaze down at her. "So you feel," I adjust myself so that I'm resting on my forearms letting my body press softly into hers. "that it would be beneficial," I kiss her cheek gently. "to our future...relationship," I kiss her other cheek. "If I seduce Quinn," another kiss to her left temple. "effectively dragging her from the warm closeted embrace of Mr Tumnus," right temple. "so I can have sex with a girl who isn't you," nose. "Embracing my inner Ellen and preparing the way for you and I, " I kiss the skin just below her lips. "to finally be ready," I smile, hoping that the next words will be the right ones. "to be girlfriends." my heart speeds up as I say the word, still not really comfortable with a word so...binding.

It's the right answer finally and Brittany grins up at me. I capture her lips. My heart beats even faster as I pour all of my love into that one kiss and Brittany kisses me back with just as much passion. I could kiss her like this for hours but Brittany pulls back slightly and I follow her lead. Because I'm respectful and shit now.

"My Tana is so smart," she laughs and rolls me onto my back. If it was 6 months ago I would have resisted the change in position but now...hey I'm growing as a person. She grins down at me. "And do you know what else will be, like the best ever fringe benefit of this plan?" I shake my head because I really couldn't think past the fact that Brittany's leg was pressed firmly against my crotch. "Well if I'm right," and she usually is. "And I usually am. Quinn's stuck as a pressed lemon," Brittany translation: repressed lesbian. "and once you and her get your sweet lady kisses on together she will get to be unpressed. She be like a super juicy lemon and a unicorn."

Despite what we had just spent the last half hour discussing, I hadn't expected Brittany's conclusion. "So you really think Quinn is Gay? Like capital G? Cause I was kinda kidding with the whole Narnia/closet reference."

Brittany nodded as she started playing with my hair. "Sure she is. She's just spent a lot of time being all pressed and now that she's finally embracing a her that isn't all pressed she'll finally be able to get her mack on with all sorts of girls." A new thought lit her face with excitement. "And I'll bet, San that it'll be one girl in particular who get's to squeeze Q's lemon," I feel this metaphor may be getting out of hand. "One girl that we know really well."

I groan at her deliberate obtuseness, "Please don't make me play the guessing game anymore. Just tell me. Who do you think is gonna get the benefit of a newly unpressed and juicy Fabray?"

Brittany giggled. "Well. I think that there is a Berry which could do with some juicing too."

"Berry?" No fucking way. "No fucking way. That's just gross and so wrong Britt. Why would you even say that out loud?" I shudder at the thought.

Brittany—bless her—giggles, "No really, think about it. Q's had a bug up her but about Rachel since freshman year. She can't stop thinking about her and it's always bothered Quinn that Rachel is with Finn and not just in a you-stole-my-boyfriend way. I don't think Quinn even likes Finn. I mean she slept with Puck and lied to him about practically everything both times they were together as boyfriend girlfriend. And with getting pregnant the first time she had sex. Clearly, she's not meant for heterosexuality. And Rachel is so determined to be Quinn's friend even though Quinn was so awful to her for so long," a painfully sentimental expression spreads across her face. "And San, they would be totally cute together. Quinn and Rachel. Can't you just picture it?"

The inconceivably nasty image of Quinn and Rachel Berry getting thrusty with each other forces itself into my mind. I screw up my features, begging Brittany without words to please stop talking about this. She mercifully, stops her teasing and I try to remember Brittany in her bathing suit over the summer hoping I can wash away any remnants of Faberry. Oh fuck, now I've got a couple name for them in my head. Great.

It's extremely possible that Brittany is on the right track here though so I decide to go along with her train of thought(even if it's a totally nasty train), "So you think Berry's pressed as well? Or is she just Gay for Fabray?"

Brittany wears a thoughtful expression, no doubt running through a catalogue of observations from Glee. "I think she could go either way," her face shifts again. "Their baby's would be almost as cute as ours San."

I groan but can't stop the smile that quirks up my lips because sometimes Brittany is just so adorable I forget that I'm a hard bitch who hates kids. Kids are gross. But Brittany is utterly adorable and our kids would be adorable too. And fuck me if I don't feel my heart actually warming with her words. I want to believe that it's only because in this moment she is making little circles against my chest with her thumb.

AN: I haven't forgotten about my other fic but I will be updating this story tomorrow before I get back to FPS. Please R&R. I will love you forever ;)