Part one: & I never saw you coming, & I'll never be the same
Quinn almost forgot all about Tina Cohen-Chang.
It isn't her fault – precisely. She and Tina never ran in the same circles, except for glee club, and save for a brief few weeks her senior year where Tina was particularly encouraging and helpful while Quinn was still recovering from her accident, they never spoke to each other much. Quinn wanted, when she left Lima, to keep in touch with the girls who were her sometimes friends, sometimes enemies during her high school career. She couldn't have known, then, that the Quinn Fabray that Lima came to know and fear/love/hate, is not the same Quinn Fabray that Yale and New Haven would come to know.
Growth isn't something you can plan for, and change often takes the path least expected. Quinn was a big fish in a small pond at McKinley – she graduated valedictorian of her class, after all, and maintained the best GPA of anyone this side of the '90s decade – but at Yale she's absolutely miniscule, and it definitely shifted things for her. Even though her last year of high school changed things for her, softening her and gentling her, Quinn is still a person who is used to being noticed – for good or ill.
Nobody notices Quinn at Yale. Nobody. Yale is full of pretty blonde girls with big brains, and Quinn is just one in a million.
It feels different – and she doesn't know if she wants to balk against the change and strive to be heard, or if she's more content standing out of the limelight, enjoying the world from a perpetually upstaged perspective.
The newer, gentler Quinn is the one who allows herself to be overshadowed, the one who sits in the back of lecture halls and doesn't raise her hand. But underneath that Quinn is still the old Quinn Fabray, the one who literally stabbed her best friend in the back to regain the title of cheer captain, three months after she gave her baby up for adoption, and didn't think twice about it.
For her first year at Yale, it feels like Quinn is living with a two-faced monster, and some days she is the quiet, humble girl on a quest for higher knowledge and broader understanding, while other days Cheerios captain Quinn Fabray comes out and risks spitting arguments with obnoxious sociology majors from rich old-money east coast families. It's earned her a few enemies and even fewer friends, but – strangely – the loneliness doesn't bother her; Quinn is used to the kind of lonesomeness that comes from isolation.
She remembers that, even in Lima, she was alone, no matter how many friends she claimed to have.
Quinn lets her dad pay for a trip to Europe during the summer, and she skips out on Lima altogether. She gets an occasional e-mail from Rachel, a weekly video chat from Santana. Brittany sends her text messages. That's the extent of her connections with her old high school friends by the time she returns to Yale for the fall semester, and Tina Cohen-Chang is a person Quinn hasn't thought about since.. well.
It's like being shocked with a bucket of ice water when she runs into her at the lecture hall for their modern literature class. Quinn almost swallows her tongue when she catches sight of Tina – all freshman-year nerves and anxiety – sitting about three rows back, front and center. Quinn spends half a moment debating on whether or not to approach her, but then Tina glances her way and – well, her face lights up, and Quinn plasters on that good, reliable smile as she picks her way through the crowd of students.
Tina is almost buzzing in her seat, so excited to see someone from her old McKinley days. Quinn notices, immediately, that Tina's hair is long – swinging loose and free to her elbows – and the tips are lightened to a golden honey color. She thinks that it's appealing, and even though she's certain it's an outdated memory, all Quinn can really recall of Tina is that of her as a gothic freshman with fake vampire teeth and blue extensions.
"Long time, no see," Quinn says by means of greeting, and settles herself onto the tiny seat next to Tina. She tries to remain poised, holding onto some of wordliness and polish she's picked up from a year at Yale and three months overseas, but being around Tina feels like – well, it feels like Lima, all over again.
It isn't Tina's fault. It's not Tina's fault that Quinn has spent the last year and a half trying to run as far away from Lima and her past as she possibly can.
"I didn't think I'd see you!" Tina exclaims, and her smile takes up her whole face. "I thought about sending you a message on Facebook, but – who even checks those anymore?"
Quinn nods. "I certainly don't. What a pleasant surprise. I didn't even know you were applying to Yale."
Tina grins and shrugs. "It was a longshot, but I figured if they already took one McKinley alumnus, they might take another."
"I'm glad it worked out for you."
Quinn doesn't know what else to say, except for the perfunctory conversation fillers.
She doesn't want to ask, but she does it anyway: "How is everyone back home?"
Tina just shrugs. "Who do you want to know about? Artie?"
Artie is another person Quinn barely thinks about, if she can help it. "Sure. And, um –" Quinn tilts her head, trying to remember. "Mike? Mercedes? Have you heard from them lately?"
"Mercedes is still in California, as far as I know. Puck is back in Lima," Tina says, with a careful look at Quinn's face. "But you already knew that?"
Quinn shrugs. "I didn't. But it doesn't surprise me."
Tina gives her a small smile. "Mike is in Chicago. Artie got accepted into a videography program for UCLA. I heard Brittany was thinking about doing something like that, too."
Quinn shakes her head. "No, Brittany went to New York."
"Doesn't surprise me," Tina echoes Quinn's words about Puck, and they smile in unison.
The lecture starts, and they sit in tandem, taking notes. Quinn pulls out her tiny Macbook and Tina scribbles on a notepad, and Quinn thinks, fondly, of how she thought she would keep her notes by hand, too, on her first day of her first class.
When the time comes for them to leave, Quinn stops Tina just outside of the door, and puts her phone number into Tina's cell. "Call me if you want to get lunch."
Tina calls, and they grab lunch after Quinn's gender studies course and Tina's college algebra. It isn't as awkward as Quinn had originally imagined it might be – and though Tina has all the secrets of Quinn's past locked behind her eyes, Quinn is reminded, every time they settle into place with hers, that Tina never judged her too harshly. Tina was never one of the people on the sidelines, calling for Quinn's blood at every misstep. And, she remembers, little by little, the way Tina helped her when nobody else even realized that she needed help.
Tina knows about things Quinn hasn't talked about in months; she knows about Beth, and about her tattoo, about the accident. Quinn knows things about Tina, too, that maybe Tina might have wanted to forget – her fake stutter, her dark eye makeup and how she was upstaged at almost every turn by Rachel or Santana or Mercedes. Quinn thinks that it might be a good balance between them, the secrets they keep, and a kind of easiness comes with the familiarity. They were never friends, back in Lima, but Quinn thinks they might be able to become friends, now.
She wonders what herself of four years ago would make of this, willingly eating lunch with Tina Cohen-Chang. She wonders what Tina's old self would think of it, too.
Quinn supposes that might be the most marked difference of all, that she spends any time at all considering Tina and her thoughts.
Xxxx
They don't help each other study as much as they study together, because they're taking coursework on opposite ends of the spectrum. Quinn is impressed to learn that Tina voluntarily tested out of many freshman level courses, so she only has to take a few credit hours before she can technically classify as a sophomore. The new Quinn – the Quinn who got into Yale based off her 4.0 GPA and flawless attendance record and more extra-curriculars than she can even begin to name – envies Tina her brains and dedication. The old Quinn remembers, a little spitefully, that Tina was a faceless nobody in high school. It helps to keep her sufficiently kind, even when she's jealous and Tina preens over her hard-earned credits.
Tina's major is Women's, Sexuality, and Gender studies – something that doesn't surprise Quinn, exactly. Quinn is still undeclared, but she takes a lot of liberal arts courses, and she enjoys psychology and modern literature and she tries not to think too hard about how she'll have to figure it out, soon.
Tina is much more affable, much more personable than Quinn is, and Tina actually changes the tide of Quinn's social life as the semester climbs closer to an end. Quinn is mopey – she doesn't like to think of winter break and spending time with her mother over Thanksgiving, her father over Christmas, and then Santana, Brittany, and Rachel in New York for New Year's Eve – and Tina thinks it's because of midterms and crash studying and too many all-nighters fueled by Starbucks and energy drinks.
Tina has a lot of connections with the hyper-liberal raging feminist crowd, and she coaxes Quinn into going to a party the last weekend before midterms. Quinn doesn't admit it, but it's her first party at Yale, and it turns out to be everything she ever expected it to be: loud, crazy, and full of the students who could delicately be termed as alternative. Quinn sees more than her share of bizarre haircuts, facial piercings, and black clothing; the exact kids she would have avoided like the plague or tortured mercilessly at McKinley.
Tina introduces her to a few of her friends, and Quinn smiles, but she feels uncomfortable. Even the glee club kids, as strange as they were, did not prepare Quinn for this level of differentness.
Tina presses a red plastic cup into Quinn's hand, and Quinn gulps the bitter liquid almost gratefully. She wants to take the edge off of her discomfort. She wants to be loose and easy, like Tina is – she wants to laugh at these bizarre people, maybe even have conversations with them. It's times like this that she hates that the old Quinn Fabray still has her claws in her, sunk deep, and she can feel her whispering judgments and wrinkling her nose. But the old Quinn has served as a shield many times over the years, keeping her protected – so Quinn can never make the decision whether to keep her or throw her away. She doesn't know if that decision is even one she can make.
Tina gets drunk quickly, which is something Quinn remembers from the scattered birthdays and Valentine's Day parties and weddings they shared over their years together. Quinn is a little amazed at how small memories surface of Tina, ones she never even knew she had buried within her. They come through, bit by bit, and the alcohol seems to help it.
Quinn drifts away from Tina, the liquor making her bold, and she finds herself in the middle of a debate about intersectionality between a girl who reminds Quinn sharply of Santana, all hips and lips, and another with a pink mohawk. Quinn doesn't speak, but she's caught up by the passion of their words, which sound exotic and foreign even though they're things like equality and feminism and homophobia and racism.
Quinn doesn't know how the conversation comes back to her, but one thing leads to another and – "I bet you were a cheerleader in high school, weren't you?" gets said and then, well—
Quinn doesn't know how, but she's doing a cheer routine in the middle of a group of wildly-dressed women with serious opinions about everything important.
Her spine aches, slightly, with the movements, but Quinn doesn't feel it, because the rum makes her numb.
She's startled when Tina appears out of nowhere and then takes up the cheer beside her, mirroring her claps and leg movements precisely. Quinn finds this hilarious, because Tina hated the Cheerios (that's one of those wiggly little memories she didn't even know she had), and she ends up losing her rhythm due to laughter. Tina laughs, too, and then they're clutching at each other and the loose circle around them breaks, off to find something else more entertaining.
"How did you know that?" Quinn almost chokes on her own laughter.
Tina smiles, her face flushed. "I joined the Cheerios my senior year, for about a month."
"Really?" Quinn is surprised. "You?"
"I know," Tina gives a small, self-effacing nod. "I did a lot of strange things."
"I did, too," Quinn admits.
Tina giggles. "Your pink hair."
"Hey! You're one to talk – didn't you have purple in yours at some point?"
"I never pierced my nose,"
Quinn laughs, even though the reminder hurts. Quinn laughs through the pain, because it's easier than crying, and she doesn't want to feel angry.
Tina smiles at her good-naturedly, and Quinn realizes that the remark wasn't meant to wound her. It was just a fact, stated, no more or less. The comprehension eases the hurt, a little bit, and Quinn squeezes Tina's hand in her own.
When they walk back to their dorm rooms, they do it with arms snugged tightly around each other's waists, singing Don't Stop Believing at the tops of their lungs.
Quinn asks Tina to come with her to New York, but Tina declines. She has family stuff. Tina actually likes her family, unlike Quinn, who tries to find every excuse imaginable to avoid Judy and Russel Fabray.
Quinn spends New Year's Eve sitting on the stairwell with Santana outside of her loft-style apartment, who gets drunk on tequila and complains about Brittany, like she always does.
Somewhere between her third and fourth glass of wine, Quinn turns to Santana, abruptly, and shakes her shoulder a little bit. Santana was crying, some kind of hiccupping half-sob that is mostly crocodile tears, anyway.
"Do you remember -?" Quinn starts, like she always does.
"Yes," Santana replies, her eyes swollen and red. "I remember."
"I'm not gay," Quinn prefaces, and she swallows a huge mouthful of wine. "But—"
"You want to go again?" Santana asks, curiously. "It's been awhile, Q. And there's Brittany, now—"
"Yes, I know," Quinn doesn't know why talking about it still makes her cheeks flush, but it always does. "And it was great, Santana, but –"
"Brittany isn't here," Santana says with a shrug. They're fighting, and though Santana has spent the last two hours explaining to Quinn what the quarrel is over, Quinn can't be bothered to remember it.
"You love her," Quinn says, almost sighing. "This isn't about us, Santana."
"I love her," Santana echoes, almost morosely. "I think she has a crush on Rachel."
"Really?" Quinn can't help the way her eyebrows fly up on her forehead. She never would have imagined anything like that – "Doesn't Brittany hate Rachel?"
"Yes!" Santana almost shouts. "But living with the midget kind of – it does things to you!"
"No," Quinn can't help the way she grins. "You're joking."
"Shut it, Quinn," Santana replies defensively. "It was a year ago."
"Is that what you're fighting over? You're both jealous of Rachel?"
Santana nods miserably, and she looks so pathetic that Quinn almost feels sorry for her. Almost.
"I can't believe you," Quinn narrows her eyes. "Who else have you slept with? Anyone I should know about?"
Santana shakes her head quickly, pulling her legs up to her chest.
"Are you sure? What about Mercedes? You guys were pretty close."
"You lived with her," Santana retorts angrily. "Is there something you need to tell me?"
Quinn just laughs.
"What were you saying, Q? Are you hot for your dormmate?"
"What? Louisa? No. She's awful, actually." Quinn scuffs a fingernail over the concrete. The air is freezing, the pavement down below crusted with ice. But inside Kurt and Rachel are having a furious game of Broadway Trivia and Brittany left two days ago to spend New Year's with her parents, and so Quinn and Santana huddle together on the stairwell, tucked beneath layers of clothing and two thick quilts. Quinn barely feels the cold, but she thinks that's due to alcohol.
"Who, then?" Santana smiles the same slow, feline smile that made Quinn shiver the first time she ever saw it.
"It's, ah.." Quinn rubs her nose, suddenly bashful. It feels surreal to be talking about it, but then again – this is Santana, a girl who, by all rights, is in no position to judge Quinn, but who, unfailingly, does it anyway. "It's Tina."
Santana's face blanks for a solid second before her eyebrows shoot upwards. "Girl Chang? Really? Are you guys, like, Skyping or something?" Santana's face wrinkles. "Did she even graduate?"
Quinn sighs. "She goes to Yale. We've gotten pretty close this past semester."
"No kidding?" Santana hums, pulls a lime wedge into her mouth, and sucks on it. Then she nods, almost as if in understanding. "You know, that isn't that shocking. I think she hooked up with Brittany once, like, sophomore year."
"What?" Quinn's jaw drops. "How didn't I know about that-?"
Santana shrugs. "You didn't even know her name back then, Quinn, and Brittany has hooked up with practically everyone. I still have my suspicions about her and Berry," Santana's eyebrows draw together speculatively, and she leans back to peer in at Rachel through the window. "That mustached little cretin can't keep her eyes away from Brittany."
Quinn just sighs. Before Brittany moved in, Santana was good friends with Rachel, and even though it makes her nostalgic for their days as the twin terrors of McKinley, she can't let Santana forget that.
"Be nice to Rachel. It isn't her fault Brittany has a hot body."
Santana jerks around to glare at Quinn. "Not you, too!"
Quinn just shrugs. "What? You think nobody else ever noticed?"
Santana groans. "I never thought I'd be saying this," She huffs, pours herself another tequila shot. "But I miss the days when everyone was straight, and I was the only lesbian I knew."
Quinn can't help but laugh. "I'm not a lesbian."
"You say that," Santana says, gesturing with her shot glass. "But this is how it all starts – you fall in love with your best friend and then, suddenly, you're singing Melissa Etheridge songs and getting a rainbow tattooed on your ass."
"You're my best friend."
Santana sighs, gives a little shake. "Maybe," She tosses the shot back, barely grimacing at the gross burn. "But you have this thing for Tina, and she's a friend, probably your best friend at Yale. It isn't any different."
Quinn shakes her head in denial. "I'm not going to be a lesbian, Santana, just because I have a – a curiosity for Tina."
"Whatever you say, Q," Santana smiles wryly. "You give me a call once you have your tattoo picked out. We'll go together."
"Stop," Quinn tries to sound stern, but she's overwhelmed with affection for Santana.
"Hey, do me a favor?" Santana turns around to peer inside the apartment again. "When it gets to midnight, will you kiss Kurt? I want Rachel. It'll drive Britt crazy."
Quinn blinks. "She wouldn't be jealous if you kissed me, instead?"
Santana's face crinkles. "You know, I never thought of that! Maybe she would be!"
Quinn's awful roommate, Louisa, never comes back from winter break. Quinn spends exactly two days pondering this before she finds Tina, an RA, and a housing advisor. Tina moves in without much fuss, and Quinn feels a like a weight has been lifted. She's had a series of bad roommates – and she thinks it might have more to do with the fact that she's never had to share anything in her entire life, much less her living space, than it has to do with the actual other parties – but she's optimistic about Tina.
Tina isn't messy, which is a huge relief to Quinn. Quinn has dealt with people who range on the full spectrum of clutterbugs – from trainwreck-Santana Lopez-bad to Emma Pillsbury-obsessive-clean, and Quinn considers herself to fall just a notch or two below Ms. Pillsbury. She gets along best with other Ms. Pullsburys. She used to get into scathing, knock-down, drag-out fights with Santana when they were forced to share a hotel room together on out-of-town trips for Cheerios competitions. Quinn is no longer the type to physically attack people who annoy her (well – Santana is an exception) but she has mastered the art of passive aggressive feuds. Her first roommate, Grace, requested a change of dorms within two months of living with Quinn.
Quinn is particularly proud of that one.
It isn't all sunshine and cupcakes to have Tina as a roommate, though. Tina snores, and it drives Quinn crazy – Tina hates that Quinn goes to sleep later and wakes up earlier than she does. They squabble, but it's nothing like the type of brooding, seething rage Quinn used to have for Louisa, so she considers it an improvement. For the most part, they learn to live together; Tina is considerate in a way Quinn never realized – Tina remembers to bring Quinn a midday mocha frappe, extra whipped cream, even though Quinn hates herself for drinking them. Quinn gets in the habit of putting Tina's favorite tea on before she leaves for her morning run.
Quinn gets glimpses of Tina naked, here and there, because their dorm is the size of a matchbox and there's no avoiding it. She sees Tina wrapped up in towels and in varying states of undress, and it always makes her heart kickstart in her chest. Tina catches her looking, once or twice, but never says anything. She smiles, sometimes, a secretive smile, but Quinn tries not to think about it.
Tina gives Quinn a tiny silver charm bracelet. The day she gives it to her happens to be February fourteenth, and Quinn never asks about it – but once Tina slips the bracelet on her wrist, she never takes it off, either.
"Let's go someplace warm for spring break," Quinn suggests, because New Haven is still covered in a layer of snow by mid-March and she's dreaming of Palm Springs, beaches, and bikinis.
"My mother wants me to come home," Tina says, and her tone is apologetic – truly. Quinn can tell that Tina wants to go with her instead of going back to Lima.
"I went home for every break my first year, too," Quinn says, remembering. "I hated it."
Tina gives Quinn a half-smile. "I couldn't afford someplace warm, anyway,"
"My father would have paid for it." Quinn shrugs.
"Maybe next year."
Quinn thinks about it, and then she sighs. "I guess I'll go back to Lima, then, too."
"What's Santana doing?" Tina is packing a duffle bag, and she looks up curiously at Quinn. "Wouldn't she love to go with you?"
"Maybe," Quinn hasn't talked to Santana in a few weeks. She wonders what ever came of the drama between her, Brittany, and Rachel. It makes her smile, and then it reminds her of—
"Hey, Tina.."
Tina glances up.
"Santana told me something kind of funny, once – about you and Brittany?"
Tina pauses, and then her face splits into a wide smile. "She told you about that?"
Quinn nods, and Tina's smile is contagious – she finds herself grinning right along with Tina.
"How funny. It was years ago." Tina's smile fades, then, and her eyes widen. "Santana isn't mad about that, is she? Oh my gosh—"
"No, no," Quinn laughs at Tina's momentary panic. "I just wondered if it was true, or just some rumor."
"Oh." Tina shrugs, continues shoving jeans into her duffle bag. "Yeah."
There's silence between them for a moment, while Quinn scrolls through her phone and Tina finishes packing.
"I heard that you and Santana – um." Tina's back is still to Quinn, and she seems almost shy. It's funny, because this is the Tina Quinn remembers most, and this is the Tina Quinn hasn't seen hide nor hair from since classes started in August.
"Yes," Quinn admits it, though it makes her face darken. "How did you know?"
Tina rolls her head, even though she isn't facing Quinn. "I just heard it, around. I actually heard that there was some kind of – uh, thing, between you guys."
Quinn almost chokes. "What? Seriously?"
Tina turns around slowly. "It was just a rumor."
Quinn rubs at her forehead uncomfortably. "We did kind of have a thing, sort of. I guess. I mean – it was months ago, now. It was never.. um, it was never serious."
Tina sits down carefully on her bed. Quinn looks up from her lap, and the pair of them stare at each other in heavy, awkward silence for a moment.
"It wasn't a relationship." Quinn doesn't know why she feels the need to defend it, what she had with Santana. "It was just – a string of hookups. It went on for a little while, and then stopped when she decided to get back with Brittany."
"I see." Tina bites her lip. "So, on New Year's, you didn't-?"
Quinn laughs. "No. We're just friends."
"Friends who used to have sex,"
"Yeah," Quinn says thoughtfully. "But the same could be said of anyone in the glee club with us."
Tina smiles, then. "You're right."
Quinn thinks she understands, now, some things – the peculiar way Tina brings up Santana, how she shies away from invitations to New York. It makes things a bit clearer.
"So.. are you coming back to Lima, then?" Tina asks.
Quinn nods. "Yes, I think so."
Tina wants her to go to a St. Patrick's Day party with some of her old classmates, the ones still in high school. Quinn is skeptical, because really? She doesn't even know those kids, and – though some of them are only a year, maybe two, younger than she is – they seem so small and young, so childish. But Tina convinces her, mostly with gentle pleas and a wide grin, so Quinn acquiesces, even though she hates the idea.
She wears a loose green sundress that fans open at the knees, white sandals and a white cardigan. Tina picks her up at her house and Quinn almost laughs at the jade-colored extensions she has in her hair, because they're so Tina circa 2010, and for some reason it makes Quinn both nostalgic and affectionate. Tina grins at Quinn's appreciation, and Quinn thinks that her choice of dress is appropriate – it's tight and clingy, and stops about mid-thigh. It matches the streaks in her hair and her glittery eyeshadow. They walk, arm-in-arm, to Tina's car.
The party is at a boy named Ryder's house, and Quinn thinks she remembers him – vaguely – from Thanksgiving last year. There are a few people she recognizes, like Kitty, and that Marley girl that Santana was so protective of. She remembers Puck's little brother, Jake – and, lo and behold, Noah actually makes an appearance as well.
It's always strange for Quinn to see him, now that she isn't seeing him every day. Quinn looks at him and she remembers Beth, and she wonders if it's possible to have created another human being with someone and not be inextricably connected to them, forever. Quinn wonders if she'll always carry Puck with her, the same way she carried their baby inside of her. It's a sobering thought, and not the one she wants to have; she waves to him and then follows Tina into the kitchen.
There are goldschlager shots lined up on the counter, as well as shots composed of sour apple pucker and vodka. Quinn grimaces at the choice – but it is St. Patrick's Day, after all – so she takes the vodka shot, and then another. Tina laughs at the squinty face she makes, and then she downs her own. Quinn doesn't like shots – she's more of a cocktail drinker – but she knows she's going to have to get drunk fast to survive this party.
Before she knows it, she has a green top hat on and she's laughing, trying to hold herself perfectly still while Tina draws a shamrock on her cheek. Everything feels loose and warm – Quinn's face is flushed and her lips are red – and she has to hold on to Tina to stay upright. Tina takes her weight easily, and doesn't let her go once the shamrock is complete; instead, she holds Quinn's arm with both of hers, and they wobble through the house together.
It's full to bursting with people Quinn doesn't recognize, and she wonders how so many baby-faced kids are able to come together like this. She wonders if it's being away that's done this to her, or the fact that her twentieth birthday is sneaking up on her at the end of April. Logically, she knows that twenty isn't old, but it feels different, somehow – she won't be a teenager anymore.
Tina tugs Quinn towards the back of the house, away from the bulk of the party. The music dims the further away they get, and Tina surprises her by pulling her through a door and outside. The air is crisp, almost freezing, and Quinn can see that snow still lingers in the more sheltered parts of the yard. The grass is yellow and dead, and immediately, Quinn pulls closer to Tina. Tina seems to be chuckling quietly to herself, but that's something Quinn has come to expect - Tina likes to giggle, a lot, especially when she's drinking. Quinn thinks it's kind of endearing, especially the way Tina's face swells with a perpetual grin.
"What are we doing out here, Tina?" Quinn asks quietly, and her words fog in the night air. She isn't drunk enough to be impervious to the cold, and she wishes she would have worn boots, like Tina did, instead of sandals.
"I just wanted a minute alone with you," Tina says, and swings around to face Quinn.
Quinn finds herself smiling more easily around Tina than she ever has around anyone else in her life, and for some reason, Quinn doesn't question it. She pushes Tina's hair behind her ear, and marvels at the thick weight of it – she's always thought that it was pretty, but she never had the chance to touch it much. She's surprised by how heavy it hangs, how thick it is, and she keeps her fingers in it, with the meat of her palm resting on Tina's cheek.
Tina watches her, with that silly grin in place, and finally she closes the distance between their bodies, snaking her hands up to cup Quinn loosely on the forearms. "Kiss me, Quinn,"
Quinn studies her face for a moment, biting her lip. Tina is shorter than Quinn, but their choice in footwear helps to make up for the difference a bit – Tina only has to angle her head slightly to make eye contact. When she finally leans forward to press her lips to Tina's, she catches the sharp sound of Tina inhaling right before they make contact – and at first, it feels almost like nothing, because their lips are numb both from the wind and alcohol. Still, Quinn feels the heat building, beginning behind her solar plexus and moving outwards, and when Tina kisses her harder, Quinn hums deep in her throat. Tina tugs at Quinn, almost insistently, and by the time Tina's tongue slips into Quinn's mouth, Quinn is almost grinning.
Quinn has time to think – Tina doesn't kiss like Santana. Tina is almost shy, especially at first, and even when she's more demanding, there's no aggression there. Quinn finds her a sweet, gentle kisser, and it makes her heart rise in her chest, almost aching. Tina slides her arms low on Quinn's waist, molding their bodies together, and Quinn groans appreciatively at the feeling of Tina so close, them breathing the same air. Tina's kiss takes on more force, then, and the sharp scrape of her teeth along Quinn's lower lip has her breath hitching in her throat. She tugs on Tina's hair, and presses hot, wet kisses to the side of her face, beneath her jaw, and then finally to her neck. Tina moans, low, and Quinn feels her belly tighten.
"Quinn," Tina grunts. Her movements have become more frantic and demanding, and she's clearly frustrated with the dress Quinn wears. Quinn laughs quietly, charmed by Tina's impatience, and finally peels away from her. Tina's face is pink and her eyes are glittering. Her lips are parted slightly, and Quinn can tell she's panting – her chest is heaving.
"Do you want to get out of here?" Tina asks. Quinn thinks her impatience is endearing.
"Not yet," Quinn says. She can tell Tina is surprised by her answer. She cups Tina's forearms with her own, so that they hold each other, but there's still space between their bodies. "I want to, Tina. I really do." Tina cocks her head in question. "But I don't want it to happen just because – just because we're drunk, and it's spring break."
Tina watches Quinn, silent for a moment. Her face is hard to read, because Quinn doesn't know how much of it is actually Tina, or how much of it is the alcohol.
"What are you saying?"
Quinn shrugs. "Maybe I want more with you."
Tina bites her lip.
"I like you, Tina." Quinn says it, finally. She's found, in all her history of blunders and mishaps, that simply stating something is usually the easiest way to get it off her chest. "You're one of my best friends, but – I don't know. I think it could be more."
Tina still doesn't say anything, and it makes nerves gallop in Quinn's stomach. "And, um – if you don't feel the same way, that's okay." Quinn swallows. "That's perfectly okay. But I don't want us to.. complicate anything. I like you, Tina, and if we have sex, I'm just going to like you more."
Tina nods slowly.
Quinn waits, and she tries not to shy away from Tina's eyes. It's hard to stay completely still and let someone look at you, just you, when you've said something honest and real.
"Okay, Quinn. We don't have to complicate things."
Quinn sucks in a breath, lets it go with a nod. Her heart feels sore and bruised, but she squeezes Tina's arms anyway.
When she turns to pull away from Tina, putting distance between their bodies, she's stopped by Tina holding on to her. "Wait. I meant I want to try it. We can wait. We can do whatever you want."
Quinn frowns, tilting her head at Tina. Her confusion must be obvious, because Tina breaks out in a huge smile.
"I like you, too, Quinn."
Quinn smiles, really smiles, and she feels like her chest is filled with light. She laughs, quietly, and lets Tina pull her close. They hold onto each other, and Quinn can smell the green tea shampoo Tina likes to use beneath the perfume she dabbed in the crook of her neck. Quinn buries her face in Tina's hair, and she can hear Tina breathing, the wild rush of her blood through her veins.
"I'm really glad," Quinn whispers, and Tina laughs.