A/N: Another old fic I wrote over the summer, so before all the ridiculous Quinn-Shelby adoption drama from season 3.
Santana was driving past the park when she noticed a solitary figure sitting still on the bench. That was unusual in itself because it was getting late and that park was fucking creepy at night, but the thing that made her swerve over to the side of the road and put the car in park was the red and white Cheerios gym bag sitting by the bench.
Santana stumbled in her haste to get out of the car.
"Quinn?"
Quinn looked up before hastily wiping tears from her cheeks. There was a shell-shocked expression on her face that made Santana distinctly uncomfortable in a déjà vu sort of way.
"What the fuck happened? "
Quinn hadn't said a word when Santana picked up her Cheerios bag and gestured for her to get in the car. She hadn't said a word on the drive back to Santana's house either, opting to just stare out the window with a blank expression on her face.
Santana really had no idea how to approach her, and she was a little afraid to ask what had happened.
As soon as she pulled the car into the driveway, Santana made a beeline for the liquor cabinet. Generally speaking, they weren't the kind of friends who talked about feelings. Santana figured this would be easier on both of them with a little help, so with a handle of vodka in one hand, she shouldered Quinn's bag and nudged her up the stairs.
Within ten minutes, Quinn had knocked back three shots of vodka and was leaning against the headboard of Santana's bed with her eyes squeezed shut.
Santana fumbled the cap of the vodka bottle and waited.
"I guess this time I should be glad that I left on my own, right?" Quinn opened her eyes slowly. "Still. It's got to be some sort of record," Quinn mumbled as she reached again for the vodka.
"What…happened, exactly?"
Quinn glanced at Santana, who looked at her steadily. She didn't answer until she'd taken a large gulp of vodka.
"My mom caught me looking at pictures of Beth that Shelby sent me and told me to delete them. I refused. That didn't go down well, so I left."
Quinn let out a long, slow breath.
"Not forever, I just…couldn't be home tonight."
Santana had no idea how to respond so she just sighed and pulled on Quinn's arm until her head slipped onto Santana's shoulder. Quinn was stiff at first but then she relaxed and burrowed her face in Santana's neck. Neither of them said anything for a while.
"She said that year was a mistake, and I needed to forget all about it."
Quinn's words were slurring together a bit, raw and painful. "And I know I messed up with Beth and a million other things but I just thought, maybe if I win prom queen I can prove to my mom that I'm not a complete screw up. I couldn't even manage that."
Quinn's voice broke bitterly on the last word, and Santana felt something inside her break too.
"Stop. Just…" she said helplessly. "You don't need to prove anything to anyone, least of all your shitty parents. You're fine the way you are. You're great."
The words felt completely inadequate. Quinn lifted her head from Santana's shoulder and gave her a long, hollow sort of look that Santana had no idea how to interpret.
Then without warning, Quinn rolled over until she was straddling Santana. Her eyes were glassy from the alcohol and she was swaying a little bit. Santana steadied her with a hand on her waist so she wouldn't fall off the bed.
"Show me, then."
Santana's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you—"
"That I'm enough. Show me."
Quinn leaned in until their foreheads were touching. She hesitated before pressing her mouth to Santana's in a kiss that was impossibly light and completely incongruent with the desperation that was all over her face. Santana's hand tightened on Quinn's waist involuntarily. She felt something stir low in her belly but she ignored it.
"Quinn." She said it as softly as possible but Quinn jerked back as if Santana had slapped her. Her eyes were wide, and she mumbled something that sounded like an apology as she made to get off Santana's lap.
Santana grabbed her before she could get away though and pulled her back down. Their faces were inches apart but Quinn was looking everywhere except at her. Santana tugged on a lock of her hair to get her attention.
"You deserve better than some drunken quickie that'll only make you feel shittier in the morning, okay?" she said softly.
That seemed to trigger something in Quinn because an unreadable expression flitted across her face before her lower lip trembled.
"Okay," she whispered.
Santana pulled Quinn down into the tightest hug she could manage. Neither of them spoke and after a while, Santana realized that Quinn's breathing had steadied. She craned her neck to get a look at her face, which was uncomfortable as hell because Quinn was practically lying on top of her with her head tucked under Santana's chin.
Asleep, Quinn looked small, pale, and more weary than any seventeen year old girl should ever look.
Sighing, Santana reached over to turn off the lamp on her bedside table then settled into her bed as comfortably as she could with Quinn sprawled on top of her.