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Quinn laughed as she finished her drink. She was watching Brittany and Santana play a fucked up version of Guess Who.
“Does your person look like they enjoy anal a bit too much?” Santana asked looking over the pictures of people.
“Oh yeah, they love it in the ass.” Brittany laughed. “Does your person look like they are way too comfortable saying the N word?”
“Okay well, first, no I don’t have Paula Deen, and I also don’t have Papa John. But yes.”
Quinn looked over the pictures.
“None of them are black…”
“Yeah, they’re a fucking racist.” Brittany rolled her eyes.
“All of them look racist.” Puck eyed the characters on the box.
“Britt, does your person wash their ass?”
“I wouldn’t say so.” Brittany answered after looking thoughtfully at the photo.
“You said he loves getting in the ass…” Quinn gagged.
“Doesn’t mean he washes his ass. Sanny, would I trust your person alone with a child?”
“I wouldn’t.” Santana frowned at her picture.
“These questions are fucked.” Quinn muttered getting up to get another drink.
“Shh. It makes it more fun.” Santana waved her off. “Has your person been caught masturbating in public?”
“Caught? No.”
“Was your person involved in the Hitler Youth?”
“Oh, that’s a good one Britt.” Santana examined her character. “Yeah, yeah they were in the Hitler Youth.”
“So San has a Nazi Pedo racist and Britt has a perverted dirtbag?” Quinn recapped.
“Yeah, Quinn it’s awesome.” Puck grinned wrapping an arm around Quinn.
“Does your person look like they are comfortable brown bagging drinks on the stoop?” Santana studied the pictures as she asked.
“Hmm…No.”
“Interesting.”
“Does your person look like they fell for MLM scams?”
“No.”
“Is your person Robert?” Santana questioned.
“No sorry babe.” Brittany gave her a sympathetic smile. “Is yours Joe?”
“Yup.” Santana leaned over to give her girlfriend a quick kiss before she stood up from the table and started to pull off her shirt as she made her way towards the bedroom.
“Yes!” Brittany cheered watching her go.
“What’s going on?” Quinn asked looking to Brittany for an answer while also smacking Puck for staring.
“I won which means I get a lap dance plus three hours of nothing but my wife’s tongue wherever I want.” Brittany smirked. “Crash here or go home, don’t care just lock up.” Brittany finished her drink before following her wife.
“You’re right, a double date was more fun than some party.” Puck smirked.
“We’re not crashing here. I don’t need to hear them doing that and we both know there is nowhere in this place we won’t hear them.” Quinn rolled her eyes at him.
“How about we play a round of own first?”
“We can play, but at my place.”
“Marriage really didn’t slow them down at all did it?” Puck mused.
“No, but I don’t think we’re ready for that.”
“That wasn’t a proposal Quinn. I’m just saying, it’s nice seeing how they keep seeming to fall more and more in love with each other.”
…
Brittany watched Santana sleep next to her. Brittany got her prize but then also made sure her wife was more than taken care of. The last two weeks were great with Quinn now living in the city thanks to her fancy job at a soulless corporate law firm. They saw each other almost every day, Quinn’s office was in the same building as Santana’s PR office so they usually tried to meet up for lunch.
She stretched her arms before getting up to see if Quinn and Puck did spend the night.
She slipped into a pair of sleep shorts and pulled a shirt on before she went to see if the couple were on her couch.
She passed by the framed posters of Brittney Spears and Amy Winehouse bidding them each a good morning.
Brittany saw the couch was empty, the game and drinks from the night before were abandoned.
The large painting of Wonder Woman that faced their front door, that was lovingly dubbed their security system was also given a good morning before being asked about any trouble from the night before.
Brittany started the coffee and tisked as she noticed that Lord and Lady Tubbington were asleep on the table a mess of nachos, cheese and ground beef around them.
“I thought I told you two to use a plate next time. That better not be the lactose-free cheese that I keep in a regular cheese wrapping.” Lord Tubbington just meowed at her in response.
She went to start the coffee but decided to double check the fridge for almond milk that she kept in a carton of creamer. It was tipped over and empty in the fridge.
“That’s it. I told you guys not to leave empty cartons in the fridge. It really bothers Santana. You’re both not getting any treats for a week.”
When Lady Tubbington hissed at her in response Brittany frowned.
“Santana is your Mami, you don’t talk about her that way.” She scolded. “I should’ve named you Lady Mcdeath instead of Lady Tubbington. You’re just like that woman Marge played in that play about the dead people.”
Brittany grabbed one of the dry erase markers by the fridge and wrote a note for Santana explaining that she had gone to the store to get more creamer and that the cats were bad so no treats.
She texted Quinn and hoped that her and Puck had a nice night.
Quinn responded back asking if she could come over for coffee.
Brittany suggested they meet up instead at the store.
“Why don’t you just tell Santana that you know she’s lactose intolerant?”
“She already knows I know. She just refuses to believe it.”
Brittany put both the regular creamer and the almond milk in her basket. “So I put all the stuff she can eat without spending the night in the bathroom in the regular containers and wrappers and she pretends she can’t obviously tell the difference. When you were fat, your dad put a lock on the fridge right?”
“And a nanny cam in the pantry. Why? Is San sleep eating on the Ambien?”
“No, she doesn’t take sleeping pills anymore. Turns out the world’s best orgasms are a cure for insomnia. Lord and Lady Tubbs keep eating after we go to bed. I need to start locking the fridge. Where did your dad get the lock?”
“No idea, and no we still don’t talk so I can’t ask him.”
“Okay. Thanks. Wanna talk now? Or do you wanna wait ‘til we’re with San?”
“Puck wants to get married.”
“He wants to get married? Did he propose?”
“No. Not again. But he keeps talking about how you guys seem so much happier married-”
“You don’t get married to fix your problems…”
“That’s what I keep trying to tell him. Then he mentions kids…I told him that I would rather have a hysterectomy unsedated than get pregnant again.”
“Do you mean that or are you just panicking and lashing out because you feel guilty for being a shitty mom to Bess.”
“Beth. My daughter’s name is Beth.”
“See, you’re not that much of a horrible mother, you know her name.”
“Why do I keep coming to you and San and for advice? It’s like that show, with the incest cousins and the staircase car. That scene where the guy from The Switch finds a bag that says Dead Dove. Don’t eat. Then he opens it and it's a dead dove and he says I don’t know what I expected. That’s me. Your and San’s advice is the dead dove. I don’t know why I keep expecting something else.”
“Because you want us to tell you some magical phrase that makes you suddenly change your mind. That makes you want to marry Puck, have the white picket fence and the 2.5 kids that you thought you lost the chance of when you got knocked up in high school. Plus I think you haven’t forgiven yourself for giving Beth up for adoption and then your bad relationship with Shelby, which who could blame you, I’d want nothing to do with the reason why Rachel Berry exist, but then the mess with Puck. Did you act crazy trying to frame Shelby for child abuse? Yes. Should you have just outed her for sleeping with a student instead? Yes. But until you forgive yourself for giving up Beth and feeling like you abandoned her, I don’t think you’ll be able to move forward, if it’s what you really want. But here’s your magical phrase. Go to therapy.” Brittany put a box of Lucky Charms in her basket as they passed it.
“Go to therapy. That’s it?” Quinn added two packages of bacon to Brittany’s basket.
“You can’t just go in the building, you need to work at it. But yeah, therapy. Go get it.”
“Just because you and San went to couples’ therapy-”
“We still go. Sure, it started because we need to learn better communication skills and how to let go of our guilt for past mistakes that we apologized for, but we go once a month. It’s like oil changes for a relationship. If I don’t keep up with the maintenance of my bikes, when I go to ride them they’ll breakdown. If San and I don’t actively maintain our relationship, it’ll breakdown. If San does something that bug me, I tell her. We know that anything we say something is bothering us about what the other does, it’s not with judgement. Just love. Like how I used to leave empty containers in the fridge. San knew I didn’t do it to try and piss her off. She explained to me why it bothers her so much and since it’s something I never really noticed I did, I had to pay attention and make sure I didn’t keep doing it. When I do mess up it’s not a huge deal, she knows it’s an honest mistake. But I also don’t think you and Puck should get married until you live together, adapting to sharing your space with someone will make or break a relationship.”
“You and San didn’t live together before you got married.”
“We’ve been living together since we first met.” Brittany corrected.
…
When Brittany and Quinn entered the apartment they could smell the baked goods from the bakery below. Brittany grinned as she heard the music in the kitchen.
“Mornin’ Babe.” Santana grinned as Brittany entered the kitchen greeting her with a kiss. “Hey Q. Where’s Puck?”
“My place. We didn’t spend the night here.” Quinn grabbed one of the freshly baked muffins, moaning as she took a bite.
“Latisha brought them up, they fucked up and forgot the sugar, training in a new baker. I think they taste just fine.” Santana shrugged grabbing a piece from Quinn’s muffin.
“Latisha is the best.” Brittany also helped herself to Quinn’s muffin as if there wasn’t ten others on the counter.
“So why you here eating our food if Puck is back in your bed?” Santana asked.
“Q wants our advice on her and Puck’s relationship.” Brittany explained.
“Oh easy, go to therapy.” Santana stated simply.
Quinn looked over at Brittany. “See, dead dove.”
“Do I want to know what that means?”
“Nope.” Brittany grinned.
“Puck brought up wanting to get married and have more kids.”
“The monster, wanting to discuss the future of your relationship. Are you still refusing to let him move in with you? He’s on base most of the time anyways Q. Let the man hang his hat in your home for the one week a month he has time off. You’ve both been on and off for like 10 years now. Take even a baby step forward or break up for good.”
“So unhelpful.” Quinn muttered.
“We are helpful, you’re just not getting the answer you want. If you don’t want to go to therapy just tell him that at this time you are happy how your relationship is and you don’t want to make any change to it.”
“So unhelpful.” Quinn huffed before saying a quick bye and leaving.
“She really needs to undo the damage her dad did to her back in high school.” Santana sighed.
“Yeah. So glad we moved on from the ridiculous high school stuff.” Brittany smiled putting the newly bought items away.
“That’s because we have the best communication skills.”