Premise: Post-"Naked," when Fapezberry goes out to dinner in New York. I was really disappointed when that didn't get any screen time, but it gave me an idea for a first story. One-shot. Oh, and I don't own Glee.

Dinner For Three

"So, where are we headed?" asked Quinn as they clambered into a cab. No one wanted to sit by themself in the passenger seat, so all three of them squeezed into the back.

"Watch the hands, hobbit,"

"You're sitting on my seat belt, what am I supposed to do?" exclaimed a flustered Rachel, carefully extracting the safety device while touching Santana's posterior as little as possible. "I thought we'd go to a nice Italian place a few blocks from my apartment."

"You done feeling me up?"

"Santana-!"

"Calm your tits, Rach, I'm messing with ya."

"Wanky."

"Oh, you did not just steal my line, Fabray."

"Oh, but I did. Watch yourself or I might go all Lima Heights-"

"Finish that sentence and I will ends you."

"I'll take that as a yes for Italian, then…" Rachel muttered, informing the driver of their destination. Mentally, she urged the taxi man to drive faster. She hoped that the evening would go smoothly, but given the history of the three of them, she had to consider the possibilities, and the last place she wanted to be if an argument broke out was between an angry Quinn and Santana in a taxi on a heavily trafficked New York street. She didn't want to die before earning her first Tony.

"So how's living with the only 'straight' man in show biz going?" Santana inquired, complete with air quotes around "straight." Rachel knew by now to ignore Santana's brusque nature and snarky comments, because underneath them was real interest in Rachel's well-being.

Santana continued. "He and Schuester should get together sometime- between the two of them they have enough hair product to grease the 1950s."

Sometimes, Rachel wasn't so sure.

"Brody and I are getting along beautifully. What can I say? There's nothing like being in love in New York."

Quinn gazed at the brightly lit city through the window, hoping the sting she felt at Rachel's last words didn't show on her face. She repeated the phrase which had become her mantra: She's happy, and that's what counts. Still, she couldn't resist some light muck-raking.

"How's Kurt been with Brody moving in?" she asked, trying once again too hard to seem impassive.

"Oh, it's taken some getting used to, but I don't think he minds. If anything, it's Brody who has to endure Kurt's endless critique of his wardrobe. I think Kurt enjoys having another male to practice fashion on."

More like he enjoys picking on him, thought Quinn. Wasn't it was kind of rude of Rachel not to ask Kurt's opinion before inviting Brody to move in?

Like you give two shits about Kurt, an inner voice complained. You're just jealous and you know it.

I am, and I do, thought Quinn resignedly.

Rachel turned to Santana, having just made a realization. "Wait," she said. "How do you know that Brody gels his hair? I don't think you've met."

Santana began to rifle through her bag, eventually pulling out a cell phone. Rachel's cell phone.

"You should really keep better track of your things- what if I was an identity thief?" She questioned, handing Rachel her phone back. Rachel snatched it out of Santana's palm like it was her baby and Santana was a raging inferno. Which, in a sense, she was.

"How did you- what did you…?" Rachel squeaked.

"After seeing those texts, I almost wish you had gone through with the topless scene. Brody's one lucky fella."

Rachel turned the color of Sue Sylvester's favorite red track suit. Quinn paled and returned to gazing out the window. Santana gaped at Rachel.

"Rach, I was joking. Your inbox was clear- I saw a PG picture of Brody looking through your photos. But the fact that you could replace Rudolph the reindeer with the shade of red your face is right now begs the question… what the hell were you doing?"

Rachel shrunk like she was hoping the seat would swallow her, mumbling something about respecting people's privacy. Quinn, eager to change the subject and rescue Rachel, chose that moment to chime in.

"So, Santana, how's it going down in Kentucky?"

Santana smirked like she knew exactly what Quinn was doing, but she obliged. For the rest of the car ride they were entertained by Santana's tales of getting used to her new and significantly less insane (and therefore, less brilliant) cheerleading coach. Slowly, and much to Quinn's relief, Rachel unwound as her face returned to its normal shade. Before they knew it, the restaurant was swinging into view and the cab came to a stop. They maneuvered out of the taxi, paid the driver, and stepped towards the restaurant.

So far, so good, Rachel thought. Now to make it through dinner.

Santana pushed past her companions after disembarking from the taxi, eager to reach warmth indoors. Being in New York during winter after living in Kentucky was like going from Mordor to Narnia when it was under the White Witch's spell. "Come on, you two, befores I freeze my ass off."

Quinn and Rachel shared an eye roll and a grin at their friend's antics before following her inside- but not before Quinn's heart did a quick run of the Mexican Hat Dance at Rachel's adorable smile. Once they were through the glass doors, their nostrils were assaulted by the smell of pasta sauce and garlic.

"Phew." Santana commented. "I haven't smelt this much garlic since Britt and I watched "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and she wouldn't take off her garlic necklace for a week because of Tina." The smile that lit the Latina's face flitted away as quickly as it had landed. She clenched her jaw and suddenly became very interested in the wall.

They stood there, trapped in an awkward silence, until Rachel interjected a little too brightly: "C'mon, let's get seated."

The trio moved further into the establishment, and they were approached by a waiter who promptly seated them in a booth. Quinn and Santana slid in on opposite sides. Rachel slid in on Quinn's side, to Quinn's delight. They ordered drinks and the waiter scurried away to his next table.

Santana smiled wryly at how utterly smitten Quinn was with Rachel. The Latina was well aware of her best friend's pressed lemon- it would be obvious even if Santana didn't have her marvelous gaydar. Well, to everyone except Rachel, it seemed. If she had a nickel for every time Rachel missed one of Quinn's revolting, sappy gazes, she'd have enough bribes for every bouncer she came across for the rest of her college years. Santana would never admit it, but even she had to feel sorry for the blonde. Rachel was as straight as a two-by-four, and she'd finally found herself a new man who didn't have the sexual maturity of a four year old. Which was more than she could say for Quinn, who at this moment was giving her the stink-eye. Oh, shit. She still had to apologize for that slap, didn't she?

Quinn noticed Santana's smirk, and gave her the iciest HBIC glare she could muster. It was a skill she had retained from high school and one that had continued to serve her well. At least Rachel was too busy scouring the menu for vegan options to notice the tension between the two former Cheerios. Or so she thought.

Rachel was in fact well aware of the emerging crisis, having noticed Quinn's demeanor quickly go from warm and friendly to chilly and stiff. Out of the corner of her eye, she observed the two girls locked in an intense staring contest. She decided to intervene before they started arguing or lasers started coming out of their eyes.

"So, Quinn, how's life at Yale?"

Quinn blinked, suddenly unfrozen by Rachel's voice. Santana blinked as well, seemingly having forgotten their surroundings. Boy, did she have a glare. "Chilly," Quinn said. "But classes aren't too hard, and the professor is just lovely." She finished her sentence while glaring at Santana, ignoring the fact that Rachel was watching. If Quinn or Santana had eyes for anyone but each other at that moment, they may have noticed that the look on Rachel's face at Quinn's mention of the professor was not one of mere friendly concern. But they didn't.

Santana figured that this was a good a time as any. She inwardly groaned and steeled herself for what she had to do. "Quinn… I want to… umm… It wasn't right to say what said to you, and I'm… sorry. And I'm sorry for slapping you."

Quinn gaped for a second before a smirk of her own graced her face. "Stop the presses. Santana Lopez just apologized for something."

Rachel watched Santana anxiously and let out an inaudible sigh of relief when the girl across from her smiled, rolling her eyes.

"Anything you want to say to me, Fabray?"

Quinn obliged. "I'm sorry for slapping you, too."

"Accepted. Do either of you have gum? Apologizing leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

The three women laughed together, partially from the release of tension and partially at the craziness that was Santana.

"You know, San, I was planning on breaking up with the professor anyway. I think I was just l was lonely- I moved to New Haven by myself, didn't know anyone… You'd think I'd have figured out by now that I don't always need a guy in my life," Quinn confessed.

"Too true, Q," Santana chimed in. You think you're such a clever girl… I've got your number, Fabgay. "Thank god you saw the light."

"And what would you know about the light, Satan?" Rachel teased.

"Well in that case, welcome to the dark side. Are you surprised we lied about the cookies?"

Quinn turned to Rachel with a twinkle in her eye, feigning shock. "Did you hear that? No cookies."

"Too late to turn back now, suckers. The Bitchtown Express has left the station."

"Speaking of trains, how long are you two staying in town?" Rachel asked.

Santana answered. "As charmed as I am by your company, we have to leave tomorrow. I have to drive back to Kentucky and Quinn has classes Monday." Quinn nodded in confirmation.

Rachel pouted. "But you two just got here! There's so much I wanted to do with you guys in New York."

"Who knows, you might be seeing me here soon. New York is my speed. And Q, as much as I hate to admit it, you were right when you said that I was only in Kentucky because I was afraid to chase my dreams. Cheerleading's not the same without Coach Sue and the Unholy Trinity. Besides, if the hobbit here can do it, why can't I?"

"Hey!" Rachel playfully kicked Santana under the table.

The rest of dinner passed in a whirl of banter, laughter, and catching up on each other's lives. Finally, when every other diner had left, their plates were cleared, and the wait staff was shooting them dirty looks, the trio linked arms and headed into the nippy New York night.

"I'm still not ready to say goodbye," Rachel told her two companions.

Quinn certainly wasn't either, so when she saw an opportunity to put it off, she pounced. "Maybe we don't have to… Rachel, do you have to be home tonight?"

"No. Brody's out of town, and Kurt's out with Adam. Why?

"Well, it sounds like Kurt wouldn't mind having the place to himself. What do you two think of a sleepover?"

One of Rachel's famous thousand-watt grins lit up her face. "Absolutely."

"I'm game," replied Santana, wearing a facial expression similar to that of the short brunette next to her.

Quinn smiled too. "Sleepover it is, then."

Rachel shot Kurt a text telling him where she was going while Santana hailed a cab. After stopping at Rachel's apartment so that they could pick up some pajamas, they made their way outside to catch a final cab to Quinn's hotel.

"So if you didn't have a hotel room, where were you planning on staying?" Rachel asked Santana while the three women were standing in the elevator.

"I was gonna crash at your place. The way I see it, you owe me one for knocking some sense into you."

"Santana Lopez, has anyone ever told you that you're crazy?"

"Yep. It's why y'all love me so much."

Chuckling, Quinn replied. "You're so certain?"

Santana dramatically put her hand to her heart. "Oh, my feelings."

Ding! The elevator door opened and everyone exited. The trio made their way down the hall to the room Quinn had reserved.

Quinn arrived a moment after the other two, and she lightly shoved Santana out of the doorway so she could unlock the door. She did, and it swung open. Santana, in retaliation, pushed past the other two into the room. In her rush she tripped on Quinn's foot, sending herself sprawling and effectively toppling the blonde, who grabbed Rachel. They fell like dominoes, one on top of the other, in the doorway.

"Oof!"

"Whoa!"

"Aaaaaaah!"

"Wanky…" Santana wheezed from somewhere underneath a tangle of limbs and bags.

All three of the girls were seized by raucous laughter. This earned them several strange looks from passerby- only serving to heighten their amusement. Finally, Rachel rolled off the pile (much to Quinn's disappointment) and helped her friends up. They picked up the fallen bags and looked around the room.

Quinn recognized the problem immediately, mentally facepalming herself. "I wasn't expecting company, so I only reserved one bed. Someone can take the couch, I guess."

"We'll get to that when we get to it. For now..." Santana hopped on the middle of the bed, patting the spaces on either side of her. Quinn and Rachel obliged, climbing up next to her. Rachel started absent-mindedly humming "Love Song," making Quinn smile.

"Hella catchy, isn't it?" Santana asked, recognizing the tune herself.

"First of all, who says hella?" Quinn asked. "And second of all, I'd just like to say that we kicked ass at that song."

"I wish the three of us sung together in Glee more- we never would have lost a competition." Rachel added.

"I do, Fabray," Santana quipped. "And yes, Berry, though my awesomeness was more than enough to win us Nationals, the awesomeness of you two complemented mine nicely."

"I do believe that was a compliment, Quinn," Rachel said in an astonished tone.

"Remember this moment forever, Rachel. It doesn't happen often."

"Shut up, you two. See, this is what happens when I try to be nice." Santana accentuated her comment by whacking Quinn with a pillow.

Big mistake.

"Oh, it's on, bitch." Quinn grabbed a pillow and brought it up over her head like a medieval weapon. Rachel grabbed a pillow and watched as Quinn brought the bag of down on Santana's head, sealing their fate.

"PILLOW FIGHT!"

"Die! Die! Die!"

"Stop doubleteaming!"

"THIS is how we do it in Lima Heights!"

"Shit! My pillow broke!"

"Get her!"

"But I'm- nooooooo!"

When they were finally exhausted, the three of them collapsed on the floor next to each other, pillows in hand.

"How are we going to explain the pillow?" Rachel wanted to know.

"Easy- we don't. We'll hide it."

"Santana! We're going to tell the management like responsible, mature individuals."

Quinn piped up. "Rach, I don't think that responsible, mature individuals have pillow fights."

"Which is why we need a story. My vote is for ninjas."

"You seriously need some sleep if you think they're going to believe that," Santana told her.

"Yeah… but I don't want to move."

"Hmm…" Quinn got up and moved out of view.

"Quinn! Where ya going?" Rachel asked.

Her question was soon answered when Quinn returned with a blanket from the bed. After spreading it over her two friends, she herself lay down on the floor and crawled under it. "There. Now no one has to be the awkward third wheel or worry about falling off the bed."

"Three cheers for Quinn!" Rachel mumbled sleepily. "Good night, beautiful people."

"Hear that? We're beautiful," said Santana.

"'Night, San."

"… 'Night, Q."

As she was drifting off to sleep, Quinn felt a hand clasp hers. A soft, warm hand. A Rachel hand. She clasped it back and was lost to slumber.

The next morning found the trio outside Rachel's flat, preparing for the goodbyes soon to follow. It was Quinn who broke the companionable silence.

"'Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow,'" she quoted quietly. Rachel smiled at the reference, and Santana adopted a rather constipated look, like she thought it was familiar but couldn't quite place it. Quinn noticed her friend's befuddlement, explaining, "Romeo and Juliet."

"Your nerd is showing," Santana informed her before giving her a hug.

"Group hug!" exclaimed Rachel before joining in. "You two had better come visit again soon, or I will hunt you down and drag you up here myself." The three women pulled apart.

"Try and stop me," Quinn said with a smile.

"Don't miss me too much," Santana said, "I'll see you soon!" The two former Cheerios piled into Santana's car, as Santana was giving Quinn a ride to the train station.

"Bye!" shouted Quinn right before closing the door. Rachel's last glimpse of the blonde was of her waving through the window.

She waved back until the car disappeared into the noisy New York morning.

Hope you enjoyed it! Feedback is much appreciated. Have a fantabulous day.