Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, or any of its characters.

A/N: Inspired by The Killers' new music video for Just Another Girl, this is a slightly AU Faberry story. It follows canon right up to Quinn's departure in S4, but it's very loosely based. She did sleep with Santana, twice. That's the last that anyone heard of her, since the wedding. Rachel is attending Nyada and shares an apartment with Santana and Kurt.

"C'mon, Nemo! Keep it up and we're not going to have any hot water for a week!"

Shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth, Santana handed over the large bowl to Kurt as they adjusted the tv volume for this week's chick flick: The Heat. It was clearly a Lopez choice, since it had far more profanity than one Rachel Berry was comfortable with. Kurt didn't seem to mind, but then again, he had been texting on his phone since he sat down on the couch.

"I hope you're pre-ordering my Christmas presents for this year."

"Presents? As in, plural? Ha!" Kurt chuckled with comically wide eyes, distractedly flicking through the channels as they waited.

A catchy tune caught his attention, bidding him pause as Santana popped open a soda can. Of course, nothing was without incident. As they both leaned down to assess the mess from the carbonated drink, Rachel walked out as she was towel drying her hair and screamed bloody murder. Both Santana and Kurt looked up from their spot with a guilty expression on their faces, watching in confusion as the recently showered brunette covered her mouth and pointed directly behind them. They both turned to see a suit clad Quinn Fabray gracing their small flat screen, lip syncing to a song about a girl and unrequited love and -

Okay, so the metaphor was completely lost on them, once they caught sight of that 'stache.

"Fabgay finally went drag? Wow, that's hot," Santana smirked, not really shying away from the fact that she might have played a hand at this sudden gender queer epiphany. They never spoke about it again, but they hadn't really spoken at all. Maybe a Lopez was so good that only twice was the charm.

"Honey, that's not drag..."

"Shh! Everybody quiet down, please," Rachel exclaimed as she perched herself on the edge of the couch, just narrowly avoiding the puddle of soda that her roommates had covered with a makeshift pile of napkins. For a moment, everything else melted away and she gave in to the nostalgia. Not of being back at McKinley High or Lima, Ohio. But of being alone on a stage with the other woman with no one else around.

"Why? She's not even singing!"

"Yeah, Rachel, aren't you taking this a little - "

But the Streisand enthusiast could not be swayed to peel herself away from staring at the screen, feeling her heart going 2.5 million miles per hour. Yes, it was that precise. What didn't quite fit was the fact that she felt like Quinn was talking directly to her, instead of at her. It was silly, considering that they were never really friends. They didn't even hate each other enough to be considered enemies. And as the video ended, Rachel found herself searching for a word that wasn't in her vocabulary. Something to define the complicated mess that they had been.

She probably wanted to be able to tell people that she had known Quinn to some degree, before and after she was thrown into perpetual stardom.

At least one of them made it. Not just into a university or on a commercial, but out there in the real world. You know, working with reputable music artists and one hell of a fantastic wardrobe department. Not that she didn't dress well enough on her own, but still. Rachel started calculating how many of those outfits she could probably pull off, even if there was a greater chance of her becoming a millionaire than being able to try any of them on.

Once it ended, Santana and Kurt exchanged glances as Rachel immediately stood from the couch and disappeared into the bedroom.

"Ten bucks says that she's giving her call."

"Fifteen says that she can't find the number, because she asked me to do a major contacts sweep when we got here and I figured that they never spoke..."

"Kurt! Wait, who else did you delete?"

"You."

"We do so speak! We live together. How else would we communicate?"

"Well, I walked in on you two doing some pretty strange sign language the first week you showed up..."

"I was mad at her and I was broke, so I couldn't risk having to put a dollar in the profanity jar."

"We have a profanity jar?"

"We did, once. But I used all the money to buy groceries," Santana replied with a casual shrug, failing to mention that she got Rachel to read most of the script for The Heat back to her, claiming that it was an actual play that played off the use of slang and drug mentions. Rachel thought that it was oh so New York at the time. She realized the truth too late, when the audition was bogus and Santana was off trying to figure out how much it would cost to have Breadstix deliver to their apartment from Lima. That was the inside joke behind tonight's secret movie pick, which had been foiled.

As the sassy duo continued to discuss the ways in which they had once outsmarted their other roommate and eventually each other, Rachel found Santana's phone lying about out of the corner of her eye. She knew that Quinn's number had to be in there. The Unholy Trinity had a bond that would not be broken, not by distance or lack of communication. They were the kind of people that just fell right back into place, even after weeks or months of not speaking to one another. She wasn't sure how she knew that, since she didn't really have someone like that to compare it to.

Trying to get to Santana's contacts on a new phone that she wasn't sure how to maneuver, she accidentally got herself stuck on a drafts page. There were a lot of messages that were typed out, but unsent. Some of them had really bad grammatical errors and Rachel was assuming that she had been drunk.

Eventually, she found Quinn's number and typed it out on her own, before carefully placing the phone back where she found it. Of course, everything else was in complete disarray on Santana's side, but she could always tell when something was out of place. It was like a sixth sense or something.

Hey, I saw your video. What was it like, working up close and personal with celebrities? - R.

Rachel toyed with her bottom lip as she waited, giving it about ten minutes with no reply. Sighing, she set the phone aside and turned to return back to the Living Room, where she was still curious to see what Santana had picked out from the chick flick category. Just as the door inched closed behind her, the phone vibrated and her screen lit up with a new text message.

Would you believe me if I told you that it felt natural, after being around a star for so long? x Q.