LbN: So when J. and I get bored, we text drabbles to each other. In the interest of not clogging my page with 500 drabbles, they now have a home. I will continue some...some I won't. But I'm always open to requests! Happy reading, witches! :)

Quinn had walked in on some weird things during her three year relationship with Santana and Rachel, but this definitely topped all. As she strode through the door, balancing 2 pizza boxes on her shoulder, she spotted Santana duct taped to a chair. There were colored streamers hanging from the ceiling, pink most prominent among them. Rachel was in the kitchen, whistling happily as she did the dishes. Quinn walked slowly through the living room, taking it all in. She glanced at Santana, who glared and made muffled noises behind her scarf gag. They could only be pleas for release, but the blonde had long since learned not to get in the middle of her two girlfriends.

"Rae?"

"Oh, hello Quinn! Did you have a satisfactory day in class?" Rachel asked, giving her a kiss.

"Er…yeah. Mind filling me in on why the living room looks like Party City broke in and executed a hostage situation?"

"It's color therapy."

"More." Over the years, they'd developed a sort of conversational shorthand. "More" was Quinn's way of saying "Please elaborate before my head explodes."

"She was making fun of how much pink I had in my wardrobe," Rachel explained. "A brief, yet epic battle took place, and now I'm demonstrating the calming effects of a splash of pink."

Quinn glanced back into the living room. It wasn't so much a splash of pink as a flood of it, and Santana looked nowhere even in the vicinity of calm. "I'll just…go let her out for dinner, shall I?"

"Thank you, Quinn. I'll set the table."

Santana said nothing when Quinn let her out, but did seem to take an evil pleasure in ripping down the streamers on the way to the kitchen.