“Morning.” He yawned, his jaw cracking in the process.

“Good morning yourself.” She cautiously took a sip of her tea, not bothering to look at her roommate.

“When did you come in last night?”

Quinn fidgeted with her feet on the couch that she had tucked beneath her. “Late. My night was uneventful, how was yours?” She raised an eyebrow at him and gave him a knowing look.

Blaine scratched the stubble that had grown on his face over night, enjoying the rough tug underneath his fingertips. “Uhh, it was alright. Worked on a song and then met the guy downstairs.”

“Oooo.” Quinn smiled. “You met the cutie from downstairs, how did that go?”

“Nothing to write home to Mom about, he asked for a match.”

“That is not a good description Blaine because you and I both know that you would not write home to your mother about any boy, good or bad.”

He grumbled in response.

Quinn smiled and brought her feet to the floor, readjusting her body into the sitting position. “But, you met him. What do you think of him?”

Blaine shrugged. “Did not have much to go on.” He knew he was lying to himself. In his mind he was already replaying their interaction from the night before, happy that Quinn could not see his inner thoughts. Kurt was cute, he would give him that, but he did not let his mind wander any further. He was just a cute boy that appeared at his door asking for a match to light his candle. Nothing else. He was not breathtakingly gorgeous with a killer body whose eyes pierced him whenever they made eye contact. No, that is silly. Kurt was just the boy that lived down stairs who happened to be a dancer who needed some neighborly assistance. Case closed.

She stared at a spot on the wall as she took another sip. Blaine studied her expression, hoping that she would leave the conversation as is. That thought was taken right out of his brain when a familiar voice called for them just outside the door. “Hey honeys open the door!”

Quinn and Blaine smiled at each other before he jumped to his feet and went to open it for Santana, who walked in with hands full of groceries.

“And where did you get all this?” Quinn asked, her eyes wide in shock as she looked at the two six packs of beer Santana set on the coffee table.

Santana smirked as she took the cup of tea out of Quinn’s hands and replaced it with a can of beer.

“Ladies,” She started, throwing a can of beer at Blaine who rolled his eyes at her attempt at humor. Even after all of this time, Santana had never changed. “Our benefactor on this lovely Christmas Day, whose charity is only matched by talent, I must say.” Santana said with a wink before running over to the door.

“A new member of the Alphabet City Avant-Garde: Brittany S. Pierce!” She announced enthusiastically before pulling the door open to reveal a young woman with long blond hair, fair skin, and bright blue eyes standing in the doorway. She was dressed in a rather quirky outfit consisting of a red Santa-looking sweater, zebra print legging, and knee-high black latex boots, Brittany pranced into the room with a big grin on her face as she began to sing.

“Today for you, tomorrow for me!”

Quinn and Blaine looked at each other, unable to comprehend what was going on. Santana pushed them both down into the cushions of the couch and then took a seat as well.

“Today for you, tomorrow for me!”

Brittany sauntered over to them and handed a few $20 bills to Blaine. Who looked at it as if it would burst into flames if he touched it. The blond shook it, eagerly awaiting him to take it. He reached out and took the crisp bills from her manicured fingers before she moved on to do the same to Quinn. She did not hesitate in taking the money into her own grasp and then held it in front of her face to check its validity.

“And you should see her dance!” Santana smiled with a glazed over expression. Brittany ran her hand along Santana’s back before spinning around and kicking her leg into the air. She kicked her leg higher than Blaine thought possible and he stared at her with his mouth gaping open.

“You earned this on the street?” Quinn asked, still focused on the money in her hands.

Brittany twirled and danced around the room as she started singing again, her long graceful limbs keeping in perfect rhythm with her voice.

“It was my lucky day on Avenue A when a lady in a limousine drove my way.” Brittany did a walk backwards to a beat that seemed to only exist in her own head. “She said, Darling, be a dear, haven’t slept in a year!” She leaned towards Blaine and folded her hands, mimicking this woman. “I need your help to make my neighbor’s yappy dog disappear.”

Blaine laughed as she jumped up on the couch and walked over him. “This Akita-Evita just won’t shut up.” She did an impressive jump off the arm of the couch and landed in a pose. “She said I believe if you play nonstop that pup will breath its very last high strung breath.” Brittany climbed on top of the coffee table and looked over at Santana before straddling it. ”I’m certain that it will bark itself to death.”

Santana clapped along to Brittany’s song as Quinn looked over at Blaine, afraid she was interrupting something between them.

“Today for you, tomorrow for me!” Brittany continued as she rolled onto her back, stretching her long legs into the air. “Today for you, tomorrow for me.” She jumped to her feet and swept her blond hair over her shoulder. “We agreed on a fee, a thousand dollar guarantee.”

“A thousand!” Blaine lipped at Quinn.

“Tax free and a bonus if I trim her tree.” Quinn laughed.

Brittany jumped onto the couch cushion between Blaine and Quinn and moved her hips along to the lyrics as she continued to sing. “Now who could foretell that it would go so well. But sure as I am here that dog is now in doggy hell.” Brittany kneeled down, pointing downwards with her fingers as she sang the last few words.

Santana laughed heartily from the other side of the couch occasionally catching Brittany’s eyes as she danced around the room. A slight blush flushed across her cheeks which she was able to hide from her distracted friends.

“After an hour, Evita in all her glory. On the window ledge of that twenty third story.”

Quinn gasped and her covered her mouth with her hand.

The blond nodded excitedly. “Like Thelma and Louise did when they got the blues. Swan dove into the courtyard of the Gracie Mews.”

Blaine drummed along his leg that was crossed over his other, looking up at Brittany with an awed expression. She rolled over Quinn and into Santana’s lap, draping her body across her. Santana was unable to control the blush that now crept down her neck and onto her shoulders.

“Today for you, tomorrow for me, today for you, tomorrow for me.” Brittany looked back at Quinn who was now bobbing her head along to her song. She stood and did a little twirl before turning her attention back to Santana.

“Back on the street where I met my sweet. Where she was moaning and groaning on the cold concrete.”

Quinn playfully pushed Santana. Blaine quickly scanned her body with concern. Santana held up her hands to them and looked back at woman singing.

A sultry smile crept across Brittany’s face as she reached out a hand to Santana which she reluctantly took. “The nurse took her home for some Mercurochrome. And I dressed her wounds and got her back on her feet, sing it.” The dancer pulled her to her feet and the two of them engaged in some sort of tango/ salsa hybrid across the living room floor.

“Today for you, tomorrow for me, today for you, tomorrow for me.” Brittany dips Santana back who is now laughing hysterically.

Blaine stood and then held out a hand to Quinn to have her dance with him. She giggled as he led her across the living room in a dance similar to the one Brittany and Santana are engaged in.

“I said, today for you, tomorrow for me, today for you, tomorrow for me.” Brittany raised her hands in triumph. The others applauded her before collapsing onto the couch.

Blaine tried to catch his breathe and looked over at Quinn who had her hand on her chest and looked winded herself. Brittany beamed as she wrapped her arms around Santana’s slender body.

“So this is the reason you did not come home last night,” Quinn finally stated once she caught her breath again.

Santana looked at Brittany. “Among other things.” Brittany stuck out her bottom lip before kissing her temple.

“Hey Quinn and Blaine! Can you come down here?” A voice called through their window. Without looking, they already knew it was Sam.

Quinn tipped her head back and groaned in annoyance.

Blaine laughed at her clear discomfort. “Coming around for round two.”

“Do not go there Anderson!”

He laughed and got to his feet. “I’ll go talk to him this time.”

Quinn was right there at his heels. “No, I’ll go too.”

Brittany looked at Santana who just shrugged and the two of them settled down further into the couch.

-----

“Sam, didn’t we handle this yesterday?” Quinn wrapped her jacket around herself tightly as the cold wind whipped around her. She wished she had grabbed her scarf in the rush downstairs but now it was too late and she thought that maybe the anger growing inside of her from the sight of Sam would be enough to warm her small frame.

Sam shook his head. “Not finished.”

“Are you here to see Quinn or is there a real reason for you to be joining us on this cold Christmas Morning?”

“It is nice to see you, too, Blaine.” Even under his many layers, Blaine was still able to make out the cold expression on Sam’s face.

He and Sam had been close, but after their falling out and Sam leaving to get married, they have been unable to mend their relationship. Even so, the expression still stung and Blaine wrapped his arms around himself.

“Is this about the rent?”

“It is, amongst other things.”

“Rent that you know that we can not pay.” Quinn pressed her lips together until the formed two thin lines.

Sam nodded and then shrugged. “I have a business to run here.” He looked over at a man who was clearly homeless looking in the window of his car. “Get your ass away from that range rover!”

“That attitude toward the homeless is just what Finn is protesting tonight,” Quinn hissed. She pulled her camera out and put it up in his face. “Close up: Samuel Evans, our ex-roommate who married Mercedes Jones, of the Westport Jones -- then bought the building and the lot next door from his father-in-law in hopes of starting a cyber-studio.”

Sam moved the camera out of his face.

“What, did I get that right?”

“Finn is not protesting about my attitude.”

“He should be.” Quinn wiped her lens with the inside of her jacket.

There was a moment of silence that was spent with them staring back and forth between the three of them.

Blaine stepped forward to break the tension. “What happened to Benny? What happened to his heart and the ideals he once pursued?”

Sam kicked at a rock on the pavement. “The owner of that lot next door has a right to do with it as he pleases.”

Blaine threw his arms up into the air. “Happy birthday, Jesus!”

Quinn chuckled.

“The rent!” Sam said exasperatedly.

“You're wasting your time.” Quinn responded.

Blaine moved a hand between his roommate and himself. “We're broke”

She nodded in agreement. “And you broke your word -- this is absurd.”

Sam licked his lips, taking a moment to choose his words. “There is one way you won't have to pay.”

“I knew it! A catch!” Blaine kept his eyes glued on Sam.

Sam looked between the two of them. “Next door, the home of Cyberarts, you see and now that the block is re-zoned. Our dream can become a reality. You'll see guys, you'll see guys. A state of the art, digital, virtual interactive studio....I'll forego your rent and on paper guarantee, that you can stay here for free....If you do me one small favor.”

“What?”

“Convince Finn to cancel his protest.”

Quinn frowned. “Why not just get an injunction or call the cops?”

Sam walked over to a poster of Finn who had an awkward smile and was pointing outwards with the words We Want You To Help the Homeless followed by the details of his protest at the bottom. He picked at the corner of the paper until it came away from the wall and proceeded to tear it down and crumple it in his hands. “I did, and they're on stand by, but my investors would rather I handle this quietly.”

He threw the poster over his shoulder and Blaine ran over to pick it up and flatten it out. His hazel eyes ran over the poster before looking up at Sam. “You can't quietly wipe out an entire tent city then watch 'It's a Wonderful Life' on TV!”

Sam shoved his hands into his coat and shrugged. “You want to produce films and write songs? You need somewhere to do it! It's what we used to dream about. Think twice before you pooh-pooh it. You'll see guys. You'll see guys.” His eyes sparkled as he looked up at the building he was creating in his mind, stretching his hands above him as if able to touch it. “You'll see, the beauty of a studio. That lets us do our work and get paid. With condos on the top, whose rent keeps open our shop.” His hands fell to his sides before turning around to face both of them. “Just stop the protest and you'll have it made. You'll see -- or you'll pack.”

Sam salutes the both of them before walking over to the door of his car and climbing in. Blaine rubs the back of his neck and looks over at Quinn. He could almost see the smoke coming out of her ears as she huffed and spun around on her heels. They both walked back upstairs together to find Santana and Brittany still cuddling on the couch.

“What was that about?”

Blaine held up his hands trying to create some sort of sign language to indicate that she should drop the subject.

“Sam, that asshole, wants us to stop Finn’s protest tonight and in return will let us live here for free. If we don’t, we will have to leave.” Quinn tossed her jacket onto the couch.

“Excuse my french but fuck him!” The young latina shouted back, making Quinn smile.

“That’s not a french word,” Brittany stared at her puzzled.

Santana shushed her and kissed her temple.

“Please tell me you are not considering it, Quinn,” Blaine still held Finn’s poster in his hands and discarded it onto the coffee table.

“Of course not! I am just upset that he even gave us an ultimatum in the first place.”

Blaine nodded in silent agreement.

The sound of Quinn’s phone going off, indicating a text message, filled the room and made her go digging through her coat in order to retrieve it.

Santana looked between the two of them and then patted Brittany’s thigh. “We have a detour to make tonight. Anyone who wants to, can come along.” Her eyes met Blaine’s who quickly looked away.

Brittany smiled widely. “Life Support's a group for people coping with life. You don't have to stay too long if you want to come along.”

Quinn sighed. “It’s Finn, he needs me to come help with the protest.” She picked her coat back up and unrolled the sleeves that had become inside out in her haste of taking it off only a few minutes prior.

Brittany’s eyes fell onto Blaine. “Blaine?”

He shifted his weight awkwardly. “I'm not much company you'll come to find.”

“Blaine!” Quinn looked at him pained. Blaine gave her a weak smile and she shook her head at him.

Brittany stood up and then pulled Santana to her feet. “You may like it.”

“He seems like he has other things on his mind Brit, let’s let him be.” Santana then led her towards the door. “Bye honeys! I’ll be back later.... or not, depending on how tonight goes.” She stuck her tongue out past her teeth and Brittany laughed.

“We’ll see.” Quinn and Blaine responded.

The two girls pulled the heavy door closed together and Quinn finished getting ready. Blaine sat down on the edge of the coffee table and stared out the window. She came to a halt behind him.

“I don’t want to hear it Quinn.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything. It is your choice after all.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“Blaine... it is a support group for young gay people, don’t you think that if there is anyone you should talk to, it would be them.”

He wrapped his arms around himself. Blaine found that this position was the most comfortable for him. It kept him guarded and protected from the people and feelings he did not want to deal with. Usually Quinn would back off when she saw him getting into this stance. Today, he did not have such luck. Instead she stepped closer and put her hand on his shoulder.

“You need to get out Blaine. You need to get help. You need to move on from this.”

“Who are you to tell me what I need to do!”

Quinn moved around and kneeled in front of him. “What happened to Wyatt was horrible and not your fault. I do not want you to close yourself off from the world and from finding happiness again because of your own fear.”

A hot tear slid from Blaine’s eye and he looked away from her so she wouldn’t notice. “You don’t know what it is like for me. I am trapped, stuck here inside the apartment and inside my own head. Fear cripples me, making me unable to leave my own fucking apartment without thinking that someone is going to take a bat to my head again.”

She let out a heavy breath. “Blaine, the world is a messed up place. I can not promise you that it is going to be safe out there, but lightning does not strike twice-”

“Don’t you think that going to a Gay Support Group is only going to draw attention to the thing that got me attacked last time?! No, I am not going through that again, Quinn. Waking up to find that the love of your life is dead and you have bandages over your broken body. I can’t go there, it is too dangerous.”

“What if I went with you?”

Blaine pleaded with her. “Please Quinn, let it go. I am not going to go.”

She hung her head. “Okay. I have to go meet Finn and his new girlfriend to work on the sound equipment for tonight. Apparently he can not figure it out. I swear sometimes that boy can be an idiot.”

Blaine gave a watery laugh.

She kissed his forehead, like she always did. “I will call you later.”

He nodded slowly, still avoiding her gaze. Quinn stood up and walked over to the door. She paused before opening it and turned back to Blaine who still sat on the coffee table with his back to her. “Just.....just consider it Blaine. Please.”

“I will.” He responded in a tiny voice.

She pressed her lips together, her eyes slowly filling with tears and then left.

-----

Quinn entered the performance area to see no sight of her ex boyfriend, but instead a petite brunette who was fussing with the microphone stand.

“Umm hi. Finn texted me telling me to come here and help him with the equipment.”

The brunette looked up at Quinn for a moment and her eyes narrowed. “You are Quinn, aren’t you?”

“Yeah... um is he here?”

“No.”

“You must be Rachel, his new-”

“Girlfriend! Yes, I am Finn’s girlfriend. You may recognize me from my Off- Broadway shows.”

She shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t really have the funds available to go see shows regularly or at all for that matter.”

Rachel licked her lips. “Well... that is a shame.”

“Anyways, Finn said he was going to meet me here.”

“Don’t count on it. That boy is always late.”

“Some things never change I guess.” Rachel flinched and Quinn considered that maybe that was too much. “Can I take a look?” She motioned toward the equipment.

“I told him not to call you.”

“I know how this all works, I have done it for years. Finn is a creature of habit, he knows I know this equipment better than him. He was bound to call me eventually.” Quinn took a step forward.

“I hired my sound guy from my last show to come check it out.”

“Oh.” She adjusted the shoulder strap of her purse. “That is great, good...yeah. You should have a professional look at it. I’ll just go then.” She began to take a few steps backwards. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Wait! He is a couple hours late.”

Quinn stopped.

“I took a look at it and I have no idea what I am doing. Since you are here...can you give it a try. I mean, you did make a trip down here after all.”

Quinn climbed the stairs onto the stage and approached the equipment.

“There is something wrong with the delay, I did what I know but it-”

“There is another way, this equipment is old just... say something in the mic, anything.”

Rachel stepped toward the mic. “Test 1...2...3.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Anything but that.”

Rachel stared at her. “This is weird.”

Quinn connected a few cables. “It's weird.”

“Very weird.”

“Fuckin' weird.”

The brunette climbed off stage and paced the open space where the audience would be standing in a few short hours. “I'm so mad that I don't know what to do. Fighting with microphones, freezing down to my bones and to top it all off... I'm with you.”

Quinn looked up at the ceiling. Praying to her heavenly god that she would not strike down this insensitive midget who dressed like she had not looked in a fashion magazine for decades. After she finished, she plastered an uninterested look upon her face and looked back over at Rachel. “Feel like going insane? Got a fire in your brain? And you're thinking of drinking gasoline?”

Rachel’s eyes darted back and forth. “As a matter of fact -”

“Oh honey, I know this act, it's called the 'Tango Finny'."

Rachel cocked her head to the side.

Quinn jumped off the stage and did a little dance in front of Rachel, waving her hands above her head. “The Tango Finny!” She walked in a circle around her. “It's a dark, dizzy merry-go-round. As he keeps you dangling...”

“You're wrong!” She tried to walk away from Quinn.

“Your heart he is mangling.” She made a fist over her heart as she Rachel.

Rachel covered her ears and shook her head. “No, It's different with me.”

Quinn pulled her hands off of her ears. “And you toss and you turn 'cause his cold eyes can burn. Yet you yearn and you churn and rebound.”

The petite girl gasped, a little too over dramatic. “I think I know what you mean.”

“The Tango Finny.” They respond together.

“Has he ever pouted his lips and called you 'Pookie'?” Quinn mimicked the pout.

“Eww! Never.”

Quinn leaned towards her. “Have you ever doubted a kiss or two?”

Her eyes grew wide. “This is spooky. Did you swoon when he walked through the door?”

“Every time -- so be cautious.”

Rachel grabbed a hold of her necklace that bore a charm that said Finn. “Did he moon over other girls?”

“More than moon.”

She clutched her stomach. “I'm getting nauseous.”

They both look at each other, studying each others features. Quinn takes off her scarf and jacket and throws it onto the floor. Rachel does the same to her and is quickly swept up by Quinn who puts them into the tango stance. She stomped her foot and they began to dance. The blonde raised her eyebrow as Rachel clearly knew the steps and performed them like a professional. “Where'd you learn to tango?”

“With the guy who played the French Ambassador's son in his dressing room during my first professional show. And you?”

“With Scott Osborne, my pastor’s son at the Lima Christian Community Center.”

They switch and now Rachel leads, a worried expression taking over her face. “Oh my god, he cheated!”

Her companion nodded. “He cheated.”

“Finn must have cheated.”

“Fuckin' cheated.”

“I'm defeated...I should give up right now.” Rachel looks down at the floor, squeezing her eyes shut.

Quinn’s face softened. As much as she enjoyed causing this distress in Rachel, she has been there herself and she knows that it is not very fun. “Gotta look on the bright side, with all of your might.”

Her brown eyes were big and watery. “I'd fall for him still anyhow.”

Quinn takes the lead once again and together they sing, “When you're dancing his dance, you don't stand a chance. His grip of romance makes you fall.”

Quinn dips Rachel. “So you think, 'Might as well'.”

"Dance a tango to hell"

“At least I'll have tangoed at all!” They both shout into the empty room. The words vibrating off the stone walls and bouncing back against their eardrums. “The Tango Finny. Gotta dance till your diva is through. You pretend to believe him, cause in the end, you can't leave him. But the end it will come. Still you have to play dumb. Till you're glum and you bum and turn blue.”

Quinn drops her hands and they stand facing each other. “Why do we love when he's mean?”

“And she can be so obscene.” Rachel adds. “My Finn....”

Quinn puts her hand on Rachel’s arm. “The Tango Finny.”

Quinn smiles. “You know -- I feel great now!”

“I feel lousy.”

Quinn climbs the stairs back onto the stage and steps up to the mic. “We’re patched.”

A melody of ‘Don’t Rain on My Parade’ starts to play from Rachel’s cell phone that is sitting onstage.

“Thanks.” She says quickly before answering. “Hello? Hey Finn, we're...Pookie?! You never call me Pookie...” She begins to panic. “Forget it, we're patched.”

Quinn laughs to herself as she rolls up the extra cords and hears Rachel storm off to the other side of the performance space.