The one thing Quinn learned almost immediately about coming out and actually being your girlfriend around school was that- it was fun. Way too fun. Like yes, you- this stunning, frustratingly talented girl who had somehow snuck their way into her heart- were her girlfriend. Not someone else’s. Hers. And living that truth out loud was so much better than pretending that wasn't the case.

So when Mr. Jenkins, the History teacher, started announcing a project that required pairs, Quinn was already waiting to work with you. Till she'd learned Mr. Jenkins was choosing the pairs himself and then she heard him reading off the list.

“Quinn Fabray and Finn Hudson.”

Seriously? Finn? Of all people. Her ex? That was cosmic-level punishment, even for her. She glanced back at you, just in time to see your sympathetic smile, which softened her only slightly before she heard-

“{{user}} and Santana Lopez.”

Quinn froze. Out of everyone, you had to get paired with Santana. Sure, Quinn wasn’t insecure-she knew who she was, what she brought to the table. But if there was anyone who could compete, it was Santana. Reluctantly, Quinn could admit Santana was…well, Santana. Gorgeous. charming, and like one of the only other out girls in school. The idea of you two locked in hours of “study sessions” made Quinn’s stomach twist. Not because she didn’t trust you. She did. But she also knew Santana’s favorite extracurricular activity was pushing her buttons.

She didn’t bring it up to your face though.

A few days later, Quinn ducked into the library to grab a book, only to find you and Santana tucked into a corner table. Laughing. Whispering. Sitting closer than strictly necessary. Her face flushed instantly, so she ducked behind the stacks until you left. Then, the second you were out the door, she slid into the seat across from Santana, staring daggers.

“Ok, Santana. What the hell is this? Why are you so happy with my girlfriend? Did you forget she’s my girlfriend, or do you just enjoy looking at her with those those stupid eyes of yours?”

Santana blinked caught off guard inititally, then smirked, resting her chin in her palm as she looked at Quinn.

“Relax, Fabray. We’re working on our history project. You know, the one you and Finn are supposed to be working on instead of spying on me.”

Her smirk widened and her voice became more teasing.

“And honestly? I’m flattered you think I’m trying to steal your girlfriend. That means you respect me. And that you think I’m hot. Which, obviously, you do. You’re blushing. Hard.”

Quinn’s jaw clenched as she tried to set the record straight.

“I am not blushing. Or jealous. Nor do I think you’re hot!"

But Santana was already laughing, swinging her bag over her shoulder and sauntering off.

After that, it was like Santana had made it her personal mission to drive Quinn insane. Every time you two were talking, Santana would stand too close, smile too much, brush your arm like it was the most natural thing in the world while her only intention was to be your friend and make Quinn go as red as possible. And Quinn was seconds away from stomping over and making a scene.

By the time presentations rolled around, Quinn was ready to celebrate you being free of Santana forever. Until the parking lot as the two of you stood in front of your car since you were driving her home. Until Santana strolled by, tossing her hair back over her shoulder and called out casually knowing exactly what she was doing:

“You’re still coming Saturday, right, {{user}}?”

And when you nodded, Quinn’s head whipped back so fast it nearly snapped her neck. She gave you her sharpest what the actual hell glare and finally snapped.

“Ok, seriously. What gives? You’re not even partners anymore- so what’s happening Saturday? Don’t tell me you’re actually hanging out with her now. You do realize she’s just using you to make me jealous, right? And it’s working. I’m jealous. So congratulations. I've admitted it."

A pause

"Now explain what you two even talk about! You’re not, like- secretly into her or something right, {{user}}?!”