Chapter 3
Quinn Fabray's first heartbreak was in seventh grade, when her crush had asked her to the swimming pool then left her for friends. She thought he just preferred them to her, but it still hurt - the next summer he said she didn't look good in her full-body swimsuit and he was embarrassed to be seen with her. Through everything else, it's still at the top of her list of the hardest things she's had to recover from.
As it rounds 8 p.m., and everyone in the apartment is starting to get ready, the New York trio rattle off our options for going what Adam describes as either "out" or "out out".
"Since I expect most of youse don't have your fake ID's, we're limited on our options. Callbacks is the over-18 bar full of all the theatre rejects where we hang out way too much, but if you want to actually go to a club, there's a couple gay bars I knows will let us in." Santana explains, deciding whether to wing her eyeliner or not,
"There's another club that some of our theatre friends go to," Rachel perks up to add, but Kurt shushes her,
"No, Rach, that place is really not cool. And you haven't been to any of our gay bars yet, please." He pouts at her.
Rachel hums through her lipstick application, using the reflection in the fridge, "Well, why don't we ask the room? I don't think everyone here will want to go to a gay bar, either." And she spins to face us, gathered as we hopelessly are trying to get ready in every corner of the loft, curtains all open to sustain conversation, but an equal number pulling on appropriate club attire or getting made-up in the communal spaces.
Santana's head perks up at Rachel's comment as Kurt tries to hide by staring hard at the kitchen counter; the Latina's face is not amused as she seems to be doing a head count of everyone. "Hey, you're out of luck, hobbit - we're 50/50 on gays to straights in this apartment, and we're meeting up with Dani to go out, so you're outnumbered. Gay club it is." She smirks, and I think I smirk along with her: I don't really mind where we go, and what Rachel said was uncool.
"Quinn!" Rachel shouts after eyeing over everyone in the room. I make like a meerkat, wide eyes leading my head as I jump up ramrod straight at her call. "Where do you want to go?" I wouldn't say I thrive on being center of attention, though I like it, but the nervous glances at the moment are not doing anything for me.
"I don't mind, Rach," I start, still twisting Brittany's hair up into a neat but slightly elaborate braid, all pinned to her head, "but if 2 out of the 3 people who live here think your club sucks, maybe we should hit up the preferred option?" I try to sound diplomatic. Rachel harrumphs and, I swear, makes a little stomp on the floor.
Santana passes me another hairpin as her eyes turn wicked again, "And, you know, Berry, that club you like isn't even accessible. It's such a hole in the wall you probably couldn't get a wheelchair in even if there was a ramp." Now Rachel hits the countertop in defeat. But that gives me pause. I drop the hairpin. Dancing all night I almost certainly won't be able to walk back. So do I take it easy, sit around instead of have fun? Or do I suck it up, go out in my chair, and hope people make room for me to pull off the few tricks I can? Honestly, I'd rather have fun than try to preserve a walking ability that might fade by the end of the night anyway. So I finish up Brittany's hair, stroke Rachel's shoulder and say we might visit her club later in the summer - though I have no plans to - and, after a final bathroom visit and making sure all I need will fit in one clutch, go back to Santana's room. With the curtains open, a few pairs of eyes follow me as I unfold the chair, tuck my clutch into one of the inside pockets, and sit myself comfortably while making sure my dress doesn't get trapped. Most of those eyes - Artie, Santana, Mike - are gleeful; Rachel's eyes look almost like she's disappointed in me.
It's not long before everyone is ready, Dani is called to meet us outside the club, and we basically stampede out through the sliding door. Again, most people take the stairs - the elevator is big enough for two chairs and only a few other people, max. Joining us in the elevator are Kurt and Adam, who confront me again before it even arrives to take us down.
"Quinn," Kurt starts, "you know Santana included you in the gay vote? And, I somewhat feel like a jackass for bringing this up - again - and you don't have to talk about it, but, I don't even really know how to address this -" the elevator opens on the top floor, "- I guess, I just want you to know, that if you want to talk about sexuality and, given your history, you feel uncomfortable broaching it with Brittany and Santana, then I am always willing to listen. Or, if you'd rather someone you don't know very well, I guess someone you weren't homophobic towards in high school, then, I swear -" at that, he drops to my eyeline in the cramped elevator, "- Blaine, or Adam or any of our friends will be there, too." I stare back at his tortured eyes. God knows I loved trying out fashion with Kurt and Mercedes, and we had a friendship going that we never really acknowledged, but I hadn't spoken to him basically at all since leaving Lima, so I didn't think he'd go out of his way to be so extra nice. I pat his cheek as the elevator arrives at ground level.
As we leave the elevator, our friends waiting in the building's entrance way, I make sure to maintain eye contact and thank him in words. He doesn't look convinced, so as we leave I suck it up and spill a little more; "but don't worry, Kurt. I mean, I could probably give it some real thought," I tell him, somewhat vaguely as our group makes its way to the intersection to hail taxis, "but at the moment I'm just going with whatever, and I'm not in pieces about it." I shrug on the off beat from pushing my wheels. We're separated in the taxis for logistical reasons before he can respond, but buys me my first drink at the club when we get there.
My second drink comes from Dani, who waves me back to where the group has claimed some seats after watching me spin on one wheel on the dancefloor. It only took one drink and seeing Brittany and Mike dominate to put me in the dancing mood, and I would have tried to physically drag Artie with me to not be alone if he wasn't feeling the same. Half of our friends had followed, initially an unneeded protective barrier before mingling and dancing on their own.
Dani reaches out as if to hand me the cocktail, but pulls it away at the last second. She had been leaning on the edge of one of the plush seats as there weren't enough for everyone, and now nods to my lap, asking to sit. Well. I said I was being free, and if a pretty woman wants to literally sit on me? I blush slightly, which is probably still visible in the low lighting, and nod with a small smile to grant her permission. She's gentle as she places herself sideways, still keeping some of her weight against the side of the seat, then hands me a cocktail and picks up another, clinking them in cheers. I know she's Santana's ex, though she's now foremost Elliott's bandmate and their friend, so I look to my friend as she and Brittany return from the bar to see if this is okay with her. Santana's expression? Surprised, impressed, and basically screaming 'get it': I take a good sip from the drink. We socialize a bit more, and my third drink comes from a round Santana buys for everyone currently at our little corner. We play a game that is little more than 'have a taste of everyone's drink', and I offer to get in another round when we're done. The high volume alcohol drinks makes me glad I'm not trying to stand, evidenced by how decidedly wobbly Rachel is - laughably so, causing her to pout and call it a night.
Rachel's departure causes us to branch out some more and, dare I say, become more promiscuous. Blaine and Elliott decide to try their luck flirting at the bar, Blaine quickly hitting on someone more camp than Kurt; Kurt and Adam begin grinding on the dancefloor, now that it's got less glee kids and more horny New Yorkers using it as foreplay rather than to show off their moves; and Brittany decides she's going to make out with everyone she sees until Santana accepts a dance with her. We - being Santana, Dani, and myself - unashamedly ogle a few of these before Santana caves and Dani invites me up to dance, too.
"You've got really good rhythm, and what you do is really impressive," she smiles at me from her seat, by now in an actual seat, when I try to say no. My next rebuttal is wiped out when she seductively sits back down in my lap and wraps her arms around my neck, "and Santana speaks highly of just about all your skills" she says next to my ear. So I'm weak. We're on the dancefloor next to San and Britt in no time. While there's not enough room to really do much, I still manage to club dance - glorified groping and bobbing to a beat - and sway with Dani, hold her hips and spin her. It's fun, and though I'm almost certain it's not going anywhere, I realize I probably do like girls more generally and more broadly than the context of Santana and Brittany and quiet touches, slow dances, and sex. I think I probably like just about everything about women. As I think it, an immediate flush takes over, coinciding with Dani's ass appearing near my face. She looks over her shoulder and, presumably, gets the wrong idea - I almost feel bad for being too in my head to have focused on her for a little while. She grasps my armrests and starts grinding down into my lap, effectively giving me a lapdance in the middle of the floor, before the song changes to something with an even quicker beat that she can't keep up with and we return to just dancing in close proximity and, a few songs later, dancing more with San and Britt rather than just together.
It's 1 a.m. when we decide to leave, our friends variously tired and all macked out - Blaine came away with more than one number, I swear - and, apparently out of habit, Santana drags us to an all-night vegan shawarma place that she explains Rachel likes after a night out. This is confirmed when the ethnic man behind the counter greets her and Kurt and explains their "little loud friend" already came by tonight and he was worried. The people looking out for you in a big city, huh. We share some lettuce wrap things, and Dani decides it's easier to just come back to the apartment and crash with us, thankfully sticking by Elliott more than me. Still, when we get to the door of the apartment, she gives me a lingering kiss on the lips before announcing she's going to crash in the 'gay bed' with Elliott, Blaine, Kurt, and Adam. Happy but a little embarrassed, I make Santana give me an extra push towards her room away from our friends' eyes. It's when the apartment is sleeping that I, comfy in cotton pajamas with my friends wrapped around me again, lick my lips. Santana and Brittany, after making out for a while behind me, mutter a goodnight and each kiss the back of my neck. Santana, again closest to me, wipes the dampness away and so very softly asks if I had a good night. I can only nod.
I'm not awake early in the morning, and it's basically afternoon when a goddamn party whistle pulls me from sleep. I shout a curse just as Santana does the same in Spanish. I assume Kurt is the culprit to my premature awakening when he mutters quietly enough he probably thought we couldn't hear that "well it looks like we got the lesbians up". I shout a 'fuck you', or something that I hope sounded like it with my mouth half pressed into the pillow, back at him. Santana laughed. Kurt huffed and pulled the curtain back, letting sunlight from the windows in the living space flood in.
"Oh, seriously, fuck you," I mutter as I turn my face into the pillow.
"We're incompatible," he responded as he flopped down on top of us over the covers, "but get out of bed soon, it's the first day of Pride month and Rachel wants to decorate the apartment. I can only make sure it's not horrifically offensive if I have back-up." He kisses each of our foreheads before leaving again.
"He's too perky for how much we drank," Santana starts,
"Unless he finally learnt how to make good coffee," I add,
"Or maybe he recharges because it's unicorn month." Brittany finishes, and we turned to her, unaware she was also awake.
We do get up, though, unable to go back to sleep with the noise and the light, and stumble out to witness the decorating abilities of a first grader with a new art set. Or, Rachel on June 1st.
"Damn, Berry, for someone who didn't want to go to a gay club you sure do make our apartment look like one," Santana snickers on her way to the kitchen.
I'm left in her wake, and add without thinking, "I really didn't think this place could get more gay, but," and I pull gently on a rainbow ribbon for good measure, "you've somehow done it."
"Maybe it just seems more gay because I'm here," a seductive voice calls from the kitchen - Dani's there, staring at me as she pours Santana some coffee that doesn't smell half as bad as Kurt's. I feel confident enough to maintain eye contact until Santana forces Dani to break it so she doesn't overfill her mug, so that's a good sign.
"Maybe," I parry as soon as Dani turns away, causing her to almost spill, "if I recall our nightclub debate last night, it is you who pushes the occupancy of this apartment to majority queer." I approach the kitchen on shaky legs - from nerves, actually, I think, though I try to bolster my confidence my considering how I must look, sauntering in sleep shorts. "So I have to thank you, because I had a great night." And to top it off, I lean on the bar opposite Dani and Santana, popping my cleavage out intentionally. They both swallow, Dani looking a little paler as Santana directs an impressed and proud look at me.
"No threesomes in the kitchen," Kurt calls all too casually over his shoulders as he goes about taking a staple gun off Rachel, "and no sex at all in the kitchen."
I accept my own cup of coffee, and join the growing group of us hanging around watching Kurt and Rachel fight over decorations, occasionally throwing a word in to support Kurt. It's mid-afternoon when, finally bored of the Broadway twins as reality entertainment, Santana shuts the whole thing down by asking why heterosexual little Rachel gets to decide we decorate for Pride anyway. It also gets rid of Rachel for a few hours, and we put on a film to watch without her constant questions. I snuggle between Santana and Dani while it's on, not knowing whose hand it is stroking my thigh about halfway through. Assuming it's Dani's, I tuck my head into her neck as some kind of silent approval, and fall asleep like that shortly thereafter.