When the three cheerleaders finally re-emerge from the changerooms, matching cheerleading jackets thrown over their uniforms and bags in hands, Blaine has already made himself quite comfortable in the grass, playing around with his shoelaces and holding his phone to his ear, Wes' exciteable voice emanating loudly from the earpiece.

"You're missing out, Blaine! You should really reconsider coming to board, turns out Trent's got the biggest collection of board games I've ever seen!" Blaine laughs lightly at his friend, still looking down at his shoes as a voice in the background screeches for Wes to put down whatever it is he's managed to pick up.

"Weren't you just telling me the other day that some of the boys in there are growing mould under their beds?" Blaine quirks an eyebrow as Wes sighs dramatically.

"Oh, come on! At least we all love you here," Blaine winces at what Wes is implying, knowing all too well that the boy's opinion of Blaine's parents is definitely less than favourable, "Hey, what's this?" Another round of screeching and the static sound of a phone being dropped tell Blaine that it's probably best to just leave the boys to it, especially considering how poor Wes is at multitasking. He hangs up before Wes has a chance to pick up his phone, shaking his head at the screen before stuffing it back into his pocket and looking up.

Right into the eyes of a rather mischievous looking Santana, who tugs him wordlessly to his feet and slings an arm over his shoulders. "I hope you like pasta, hot stuff," she says cheerfully, hoisting her bag higher on her free arm and steering him in the direction of the carpark, "Breadstix does a pretty mean carbonara."

"Personally I prefer the salad," Kurt pipes up from behind them, winking at Blaine as he laces his fingers into Quinn's.

Oh. Okay then.

Blaine looks up at Quinn, who seems perfectly unfazed by the action, as though it's second nature. He doesn't know why he's so surprised, he hasn't seen her in years, and there's no way that she's still the ten year old girl he left behind, and he knows absolutely nothing about this Kurt kid.

Except for the fact that he looks absolutely flawless.

Santana snorts loudly at Blaine's side, turning back to look at the pair, "That's just because you have a chronic fear of calories, princess," she drawls, rolling her eyes at him.

"Settle, petals," Quinn says calmly, nudging Kurt in the ribs as he makes a face at the back of Santana's head. "Let's not bicker with company."

"Blaine doesn't count as 'company', more like 'long-lost-sibling' or something," Santana laughs, untangling her arm from around his shoulders and pressing a firm kiss to his cheek, clasping his hand and starting to actually run towards the car park, the lights of the football field fading behind them as they step out from the now deserted football field, the sight of two lone cars barely visible in the darkness. Try as he might, Blaine can't manage to slip Santana's grip, a lot stronger than he remembers, and ends up running clumsily behind her.

"Come on, you two, we have a catch up session calling our names!" Santana shouts over her shoulder, tugging Blaine up as he stumbles slightly on the uneven ground.

When they finally reach the carpark, Blaine wants nothing more than to get down on his hands and knees and kiss the hard bitumen because thank god he didn't break an ankle. Santana drops his hand, twirling around so that her skirt fans out around her and putting both hands onto her hips, somewhat impatient for the pair behind them to catch up. Blaine turns around after taking a moment to catch his breath and test all his joints, smiling fondly as Quinn picks her way through the mine field of lumpy grass that was most likely responsible for the tripping incident Wes had mentioned earlier.

"If only the gardener would do his damn job," Kurt groans when he stumbles after Quinn, looking flustered and slightly annoyed, grumbling wordlessly as Quinn continues dragging him through the last few metres of grass and into the carpark. "I am so suing his ass if I break something."

Santana giggles at Blaine's side, shaking her head and rolling her eyes in a way that is so familiar to Blaine it sends a shiver down his spine. Everything is so surreal.

He hasn't seen either of these girls in years, and yet in a matter of barely half an hour, they're already dragging him off to dinner.

It feels like he's finally come home.

"...so I'm going to go with Blaine, so that he doesn't manage to get himself lost, and we'll meet you and Kurt there." Quinn says, letting Kurt's hand drop back to his side before pressing a kiss to his cheek and skipping over to Blaine.

Santana looks as though somebody just stole her favorite toy, "Why don't I get to go with Blaine? I want to go with Blaine, too!" she glares at Quinn, who rolls her eyes.

"Nice to know I'm such terrible company," Kurt snorts, pulling his keys out of his bag and giving Santana a gentle push towards his car, "Come on Lopez, I can be entertaining too. Anyway, I haven't shared my thoughts on the latest McQueen collection-"

"Oh, god, save me!" Santana whines, giving in to Kurt's prods and stomping off in a huff.

"See you at Breadstix," Quinn winks, linking her arm through Blaine's and sweeping him off towards his own car. "You'll thank me later," she whispers once their far enough from Santana and Kurt for the girl to have quit glaring at the back of their heads, "She may be a little taller, but she'll still talk your ear off if you give her the chance."

"And you won't?" Blaine laughs, jumping into the driver seat as Quinn settles herself next to him, "there's no way we're driving for two hours without one of us interrogating the other."

"I'm all for equal opportunity, actually," Quinn says lightly, draping her jacket over the back of the seat as Blaine starts the car, pulling out of the carpark and onto the road. "Maybe we could just do one for one, I ask a question, then you ask one."

Blaine smiles to himself, flicks on his indicator and pulling out onto the highway. It's like nothing has changed, Santana is still ridiculously enthusiastic, maybe just a little more crude, but all the same. And Quinn, beautiful Quinn.

"I'd like that."

Quinn gives him another glowing smile, "Oh great, I'll start then?" She taps a perfectly manicured finger to her lips in thought, "Okay, what school are you going to?"

"Dalton Academy."

"The private school?"

"That's two questions, Quinn. You're cheating."

She sighs, rolls her eyes at him and gives herself a gentle slap to the wrist, "Fine, your turn then."

"Okay," Blaine pauses, keeping his eyes on the road as he tries to think of what he wants to know most, "How did you become a cheerleader?" he asks.

"Ooh, that's a good one!" she laughs, clapping her hands together and sitting up a little straighter in her seat, "Okay, I'll make it short because I, for one, want to know about that school of yours. So basically..."

As it turns out, Quinn's attempt at making things short took up a good thirty minutes of the drive, Blaine nodding occasionally and laughing in the appropriate places. She talked excitedly of dancing lessons and finally learning a round off, of Kurt convincing them to join halfway through freshman year, and Santana's hilarious victory dance when the pair of them had earned places in the country's most prestigious Cheerleading squad.

"We started off on the bottom of the pyramid of course, so now I have lovely strong arms, which is nice." She sighs, perks up again and turns to Blaine, "Okay, my turn now!"

Blaine laughs, "Okay, shoot."

Quinn seems to have forgotten about Blaine's school somewhere in the middle of her story, opting instead for what she would probably consider a reasonably innocent question, "Have you got a girlfriend?"

"Uh..." he bites his lip, wondering how exactly to approach this question. It's sounds so familiar, considering he's been asked that same question by too many people to count, the girls from Crawford, one or two of the Warblers, and his father, of course. But this is Quinn, the girl who let him play with his two Ken dolls as a kid, surely it would be that shocking if he just told her he was gay. "No, not at the moment."

"Okay," she says casually, "Your turn."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Yep!" she answers immediately, practically glowing in her seat, "His name's Finn Hudson, he's the quarter back."

A tiny, tiny part of Blaine's subconscious does a victory dance that Kurt is, thankfully, not that boyfriend. He isn't really sure how he would explain away finding Quinn's boyfriend outrageously attractive.

He gives a low whistle, shaking his head slowly, "How on earth did you manage to score the quarter back Miss Fabray?"

"You underestimate the power of this uniform," she laughs, blushing prettily as she busies herself fussing with her skirt. "Okay, have you got a boyfriend, then?"

Blaine nearly crashes into the ditch on the side of the road, whipping his head around to stare wide eyed at Quinn, before realising he needs to actually watch the road. He hears her laugh lightly, a flush creeping up his neck as he shuffles in his seat.

"I'm not silly, Blaine. I'm not about to start shunning you."

"O-okay, uh... No, I don't."

"Okay."

"I don't understand you," Blaine says in bewilderment, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and keeping his eyes set resolutely on the road.

"I think you do, actually," her hand reaches across to rest on his knee, "You understand me more than anybody else in the world, and I like to think I understand you, no matter how long we've been apart." she gives his leg a squeeze, "And besides, I'm pretty sure I've known since the day I met you."

The conversation is dropped after that, Blaine steeing it in a much safer direction that ends with them spending the remainder of the trip talking about Santana's escapades and, once Quinn remembers, Blaine's school.

When they finally pull up in front of the little restaurant Santana seems so fond of, Quinn is in a fit of giggles at one of Blaine's many tales of Wes and David. They both enter the restaurant looking reasonably cheerful, to find Kurt and Santana sitting in a corner, menus open and a truly menacing expression on Kurt's face.

Quinn, obviously sensing some sort of a rant coming on, slides in beside a smug looking Santana and opens her own menu, leaving Blaine to sit awkwardly next to Kurt, flashing him a smile before picking up a menu.

"Next time we have a football game in Westerville, you two are driving yourselves." Kurt mutters beside him, "If I ever get stuck in a car alone with Santana again, I am not responsible for what happens."

"Calm down, lady lips, you're going to get wrinkles if you keep scowling at me like that." Santana snaps playfully, beckoning the waitress with a brisk flick of her hand.

Kurt's face just seems to grow more sour, closing his menu and glaring instead at Quinn, who just smiles knowingly at the boy, tilting her head to the side and studying him calmly.

The waitress appears, pen and notepad poised and her huge eyes blinking expectantly at them. "What can I do for you all?" she asks.

Blaine hasn't even really had a chance to look at the menu, and when Santana snatches it out of his hand he almost protests, thinking better of it when she starts to talk.

"I'll have the lasagne, and one of those pink drinks you do," she glances at Quinn, "She'll have the Spinach and ricotta penne and a coke, princess over there," she points a finger at Kurt, "will have the garden salad, easy on the dressing, and a diet coke, and new boy is getting the Carbonara and a coke."

The waitress gives a curt nod, disappearing almost instantly with the menus in hand, leaving Blaine to gape at Santana.

She laughs at him, "trust me, you'll like it," she says happily, winking at him before returning to what seems to be a game she's playing with Kurt.

Kurt, of course, is less than amused, "I swear Santana, if you keep staring at me like that, You'll wake up without any hair on your head."

Santana's eyes grow wide at that, her hands flying protectively to her ponytail as she shares a horrified look with Quinn, making Blaine giggle to himself. His phone vibrates in his pocket, and as he pulls it out he vaguely hears Kurt begin laughing himself.

It's a nice sound, like music, Blaine thinks.

Are you dead? - Wes.

Blaine snorts, admiring Wes' bluntness for a moment before typing out a reply.

Nope, I scored dinner with three of the cheerleaders - B

Please tell me you're kidding - Wes.

Blaine smiles, looks up at the group, who seem to be preoccupying themselves with laughing at something snappy Santana said.

"Can I ask you guys a favor?" Blaine asks once the laughter dies down.

"Sure," Quinn chirps. "What can we do for you?"

"Can I take a picture with you guys?" It sounds stupid, he knows it does, and he's praying to nobody in particular that they understand, somehow.

Santana laughs, as does Kurt, who nudges him lightly in the ribs, pushing him out of the booth and crowding all of them in together. It's extremely uncomfortable, having all four of them crammed in together, and as soon as the camera snaps Santana is practically throwing Kurt and Blaine out, returning to their own seats with another one of Kurt's faces.

The photo goes straight to Wes, who doesn't even grace him with a reply.

"Don't even think about it!" Santana yells out of the blue, Blaine's face snapping up just as he's about to shove his phone back into his jeans pocket.

She smiles prettily at Blaine, before snatching his phone out of his hand and digging her own out of her handbag. "I'm not leaving this place without a phone number, mister." She tosses her phone at him, followed quickly by Quinn's and Blaine struggles to catch them both, fumbling mid air before dropping them clumsily into his lap.

"You'd never make a good cheerleader," Kurt notes lightly, smiling at Blaine as he rests his chin in his hands, "I'd kick you off the team before you managed to drop one of the girls and break someone's neck." he laughs, keeping his eyes on Blaine as the dark haired boy blushes to his hairline, and turns his attention back to the phones in his lap.

He types his number quickly into both of the phones before looking back at the girls who are both empty handed, smirking at him as he searches for the whereabouts of his own phone.

His eyes lock on the top of Kurts head, who leans over the screen of his phone and types away like he owns the thing. Blaine raises his eyebrows and looks back to the girls, who shrug nonchalantly before doing some strange kind of high five. "You two are bizarre," he says quietly.

"And you're not?" Santana snaps playfully, "I seem to recall you being rather fascinated with those two-"

"Okay! Okay, touche`, I get it!" Blaine raises his hands in surrender as his phone slides smoothly back across the tabletop, the sound of Kurt giggling quietly making Blaine's face heat gently.

"Do I want to know?" Kurt eyes the two girls nervously before Santana turns to smirk devilishly at him. Blaine has a really bad feeling about Santana, like she's going to spill all his embarrassing childhood secrets to Kurt at their next cheerleading practice and the pair of them are going to laugh so uncontrollably at all the stupid things Blaine did as a kid.

He feels himself turn bright red just at the idea, remembering all the hours spent behind that classroom with little blonde Quinn picking out mismatched outfits for her barbies. Oh god, if Kurt finds out, he's going to think Blaine's an idiot.

"What's wrong with you?" Santana waves a hand in front of his face, eyebrows creasing gently as she looks over Blaine's face. She almost looks worried.

"Nothing," Blaine clears his throat and stuffs his phone back into the pocket of his jeans, fidgeting with his jumper nervously, "is it hot in here?"

"I don't think so," Quinn seems to like the idea of inspecting Blaine's face just as much as Santana, leaning over the girl to look at him carefully, "You look a little flustered."

"Maybe you two are just making him uncomfortable with your faces pressed up so close to his," Kurt says, pushing Santana back into her seat with a gentle hand to the shoulder.

"Pretty sure people love looking at my face," Santana flicks her ponytail over her shoulder and smirks at Kurt, "Along with many other important assets."

Blaine snorts loudly at that, smiling at Quinn who rolls her eyes dramatically. "Blaine isn't here to get an eyeful of your cleavage, Santana."

"Sure he is, everyone likes looking at my boobs," she smiles proudly, and suddenly the pair of them are off, Quinn arguing in her sweet voice about how the world doesn't revolve around Santana's chest, and Santana about how it hasn't failed her yet. Blaine just blinks dumbly at them arguing, before glancing at a wide eyed Kurt who shrugs, smiling ruefully at the pair in front of him as he slips his own phone out of his pocket.

"Don't think I'm letting you get away without a number," he says quietly, handing the phone over and turning his attention back to the feuding pair in front of him.