A/N: I wrote this out a long time ago and am only now finishing it and having the courage to post it up. If you are a reader of my other fics, please don't fret, I still intend on finishing both of those. I just had to post this up or else all of the writing would be for nothing and it would just collect dust or disappear.
Basic Synopsis: Santana wants to run for class president to show Brittany that Santana was worth more than geeks on wheels. The only real competition was Quinn and if she could get Quinn to run with her, there would be no doubt that they would win. Quinn and Santana have been having some "summertime sleepovers" and Santana knows exactly how she's going to convince Quinn to run with her. Quick appearance by Skank!Quinn - could be longer depending on your guys' reactions/requests.
PS. There is slight Brittana in the beginning, but this a Quinntana story and I believe in happy endings... eventually. Occasional smut - maybe more when I feel like it. Let me know what you guys think R&R as you please ;)
Senior year finally arrived. It was supposed to feel good. It was supposed to feel great. Santana was supposed to feel the thrill of having one foot out of Lima's door and being one step closer to freedom. But all she could do was catch glimpses of Brittany and feel her heart sink into her stomach where it proceeded to flutter consistently. Her heart ached whenever her eyes would lock with Brittany's in Glee club, Cheerios practice or anywhere else for that matter. Her whole body shook when Brittany looked at her that way. Like she was reading her and speaking their own secret language only through a gaze. Like Brittany was asking her to hold her hand or kiss her regardless of who would see or what their opinion would be. Santana was supposed to be ecstatic that she was only a year away from running away from Lima, Ohio. But all she felt was an insufferable pain that scraped at her skin, rang through her organs and burned her blood. The thought of running away from Lima without Brittany was like a dark cloud looming over her head. When it would come to haunt Santana, it always rained tragic images of Santana in a beautiful city, alone, crying because she may have gotten to where she belonged, but she wasn't with who she belonged with.
Brittany and Santana's relationship was still up in the air. It was unclear to Santana what Brittany wanted; it was unclear to Santana what she wanted... After Junior year ended with the fatal Finchel finale for Nationals and after Santana nearly murdered Rachel, Santana just felt kind of numb. She felt like a loser. She felt scared because she held a secret that would end her at William McKinley High School. She felt weak because she wasn't strong enough to be proud of being "Lebanese". She wasn't strong enough for Brittany and therefore didn't deserve her love. Santana felt like she didn't deserve anyone's love, so she replaced the need for love with lust instead.
Santana found a few one-night stands over the summer to fill the void. They were mostly blondes to help ease the pain and the slight guilt Santana felt because the person she was kissing, holding and caressing wasn't Brittany. Santana made sure to not touch any of the blonde girls the way she touched Brittany, though. What she did with Brittany was more than sex. It was always love; they always made love together and to each other. Santana didn't allow herself to do that with anyone else, but her.
Santana was good at sex; it was easy to please and fun to tease. The chase was always exciting and when it was over and done with, she didn't have to face the aftermath of complicated emotions, like how Brittany had forced her. She always left; never lingered to cuddle or to talk. Sometimes she didn't even say goodbye. Her walls were always up and she was always masking her true emotions. It was in her nature and it was who she was.
One night stands were always a one-time thing with whoever the opposite person was. Santana never retrieved numbers, barely got last names, and never made promises of seeing any girl again. However, there was an exception to one blonde girl that wasn't Brittany; one one-night stand that became several-night stands over the summer. One girl Santana seemed to take a liking to, but never let it get past strictly physical acts when their limbs became entangled with one another.
The first night was based off of pride. She was challenged. This blonde always challenged her; competed with her for everything. It was a drunk night at a party in Rachel's basement with the glee kids. Santana was given a challenge and by her, of all people. Who was Santana to back down? Santana never backed down from a challenge; especially a challenge that came from her.
Rachel Berry was throwing a summer party as an apology for the painful loss the New Directions had suffered because her and Finn decided to suck off each other's faces on stage during Nationals. Instead of everyone having to peer pressure her into letting them drink more than two wine coolers, Rachel really went all out on this party (well, with the help of Santana and Puck anyway), having nearly every type of liquor present at the bar. The music was blaring in the basement and everyone just finished playing King's Cup. Mike, was the victim of the game and was finishing up the red solo cup of everyone's drinks in it.
"What should we play next?" Rachel screamed, her speech a little slurred by the taste of vodka.
"Truth or dare!" Kurt sang. He was bored, sober and wanted some entertainment.
"Yea!" Rachel drunkly agreed.
Rachel gathered and signaled everyone to sit in a circle and lowered down the music down a little.
"Okay, Mike, you get to ask first since you lost at King's Cup," Rachel hummed giddily.
"Uh, okay," Mike replied unsure, looking at the circle of his friends, indecisively thinking of who to choose first, "Puck, truth or dare."
"Dare me, brotha," Puck replied cockily.
"I dare you to drink the rest of my King's Cup," Mike said with a smile on his face.
Laughter filled the room at Mike's cleverness and Puck's mistake. He groaned and grabbed the cup and chugged it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and eyed his musical team members. "Santana," he pointed out, "Truth or dare," he smirked.
Santana rolled her eyes, with a drink in her hand, "Dare, and I swear if it has anything to do with making out with you, you're going to die Puckerman," she sneered.
Puck shrugged carelessly, "I dare you to," he paused for a moment, feeling like causing a little trouble and controversy (as usual), "make out with Quinn."
Santana raised an eyebrow and then looked at Quinn who's eyes were set pretty wide in shock and who was turning a shade of red under her cheeks, "I'm not one to mouth-rape anyone, even if they are pretty drunk, so I'm not going to make out with Quinn because Ms. Christian-Crusader over there seems too overwhelmed by even just the thought of my lady lips on hers," she scoffed easily. She took a sip of her drink, "Next, Puckerman."
Puck took a quick glance at Quinn and did notice her seemingly discomfort at the dare, "My apologies Ms. Fabray," Puck took a scan of the group again, "Alright, then Santana, make out with Berry."
Santana teeth clenched and she gripped onto her cup a little too tight, making it slightly create a crushing noise. She eyed the drunk girl and Rachel didn't seem fazed by the dare at all. Actually, she seemed pretty excited about it.
"Yea!" Rachel once again screamed.
Santana gave Puck a deadpan look and all he did was laugh as he high-fived Artie. Santana stood up and took a couple steps towards Rachel, "Alright, Berry, this is only going to happen once in your lifetime, so enjoy it while you can."
"Tell me if I taste like berries!" Rachel giggled.
Santana rolled her eyes, but couldn't help, but smile at the drunk girl and her really drunk remarks. Quickly, she stole a glance towards Brittany who didn't even seem interested in her dare. She was sitting on Artie's lap and playing with his hair, whispering something into his ear. Anger quickly filled Santana, but before she could let it fester and be furious and feel crushed for the rest of the night, someone's lips crashed with hers and she was taken by surprise.
Santana quickly realized that it was Rachel's slobbery lips that were pretty much molesting hers because Santana could taste the vodka on and inside of Rachel's mouth; Santana could've sworn the kiss caused her to be drunker for the rest of the night. Santana could feel everyone's eyes burning her skin with their attention, so Santana needed to put on a show, especially if Brittany was watching. She grabbed the short brunette by the waist and pulled her in closer, letting Rachel react by putting her arms around Santana's neck; Santana was now in charge of the kiss and it went from sloppy to sensual in milliseconds. Their lips danced together and their tongues met for a little while, but went back into their respective corners quickly. Santana pulled away from the kiss first and everyone, including Brittany, were entranced at the sight of the two brunettes so wrapped up in each other's mouths.
"You missed out Fabray," she winked at Quinn as she sat back down on her seat. Santana smirked, knowing that Brittany's eyes were watching her now. She took another sip of her drink confidently and sat down in her seat.
Everyone's eyes, including Brittany's moved away from Santana's direction as soon as she shot a dare to Finn to attempt to do the splits. All eyes (and laughter) were directed towards Finn, and yet, Santana could feel someone's gaze burning her skin. She averted her eyes away from the hilarious and embarrassing scene and scanned the room quickly, until her eyes met green ones. Their gaze was frozen for a few moments, their eyes locked, never breaking away from it. Santana couldn't look away for some reason; there was something in those green eyes, a message of some sort that Santana wanted to translate. But the stare-down ended as quickly as it began and was interrupted by the resounding noise of pants ripping. Santana painfully tore her eyes away from Quinn and gave her attention to where everyone else's was: a very red Finn Hudson, who was stuck in the split-position and torn pants, exposing his red and white heart boxers. The room filled with laughter. When Santana was over the moment, she turned her eyes back to where Quinn was sitting across the room, but she was gone.
Santana slipped away from the drunk group and headed up the stairs where the green-eyed blonde must have escaped to. She walked up to the kitchen and found Quinn sitting on top of the kitchen island, swinging her feet and staring down at the liquid in her red cup. Santana approached her, clearing her throat to make her presence known. Quinn quickly averted her attention towards Santana as Santana made her way to the island she was sitting on.
"What are you doing up here all by your lonesome, Tubbers?" Santana scoffed before taking another sip of vodka that slightly burned her throat again.
Quinn rolled her eyes at Santana's insult, "You know that name lost it's affect when I lost all of my pregnancy weight."
"Who says your pregnancy fat ever went anywhere?" Santana sneered.
Again, Quinn rolled her eyes, "Whatever, at least Brittany doesn't have me on a short leash," Quinn scoffed, knowing Santana's soft spot.
"Ouch that stung a little," Santana secretly thought. "Fuck you, Teen Mom," Santana said out loud.
"I'm sure you would love to, but I know you're too chicken." Quinn's feet were still dangling, but she was no longer holding her cup full of alcohol, exuding her confidence all on her own. Her palms were set against the cold counter and she was leaned back a little, her body language telling Santana I don't give a fuck.
Santana gave her a scrutinized look, "Okay, one, you're not a MILF, so don't flatter yourself, and two, Santana Lopez is not a chicken. I'm from Lima Heights Adjacent," she emphasized angrily, "I'm not scared of anything."
A smile slowly curled onto Quinn's lips with as she leaned in towards Santana. She put her hand on Santana's shoulder as she moved closer to the Latina's body that was already warm from the alcohol she had been drinking, "Prove it," she whispered seductively, her breath tickling Santana's ear.
Santana's fine hairs on the back of her neck perked up, as did a curious eye brow. She gave Quinn a quizzical look, questioning the blonde's sudden boldness. With the alcohol beginning to course its way through her blood, circulating through her body, Santana could feel her core heating up with a rush of desire. She moved closer towards Quinn, locking a gaze between their eyes, their noses nearly grazing. Santana broke their staring contest and moved her interest to Quinn's painted red lips.
"They look so soft," Santana thought to herself, as she licked her own full lips unconsciously.
"Be careful Fabray," Santana broke the short silence, "If you kiss a girl, you might like it and Daddy won't," Santana smiled wickedly.
A playful smile formed on Quinn's face as she pulled in a little closer towards Santana's face. Their lips were pretty much touching and when Quinn realized that there was a bit of hesitancy in Santana, her smile turned into a smirk, "Chicken shit." With that, she pushed Santana away with one finger, hopped off of the counter and grabbed her red solo cup. She sauntered away, leaving a dazed Santana behind as she began to make her way up the stairs.
Santana was flustered, confused, but aroused at the same time. She stood there wide-eyed, the alcohol beginning to make her skin hot, or perhaps that was Quinn's fault. She stood there, looking and feeling dumb.
"Are you coming?"
Santana was snapped out of her stillness once she heard Quinn from the top of the stairs , though she couldn't see her. At first her feet felt like heavy rocks, weighing her in her spot, but something moved her. Perhaps it was the pounding in her heart that Quinn had caused, perhaps it was the unsettling feeling her stomach she felt when she was that close to Quinn, or perhaps it was the fact that Quinn called her chicken shit. Whatever it was, it was enough to get Santana's feet moving up those stairs, following Quinn into an empty guest room, and locking the door behind them.
Santana was the first to pounce. As soon as she clicked the lock on the door, her lips quickly latched onto Quinn's and Santana found herself exploring the blonde's mouth with a little more passion than intended. The kiss was a little sloppy considering they were both pretty drunk and there was a lot of fervor behind it. Santana began to tug off her white leather jacket while pulling away from the kiss.
"I thought you weren't really into this 'sort of thing', Fabray," Santana smirked, avoiding eye-contact, knowing how an intended one night stand should be, peeling off the rest of her outfit consisting of jeans and tight black tank top.
"Just shut up, and take your clothes off," Quinn fired back as she stripped herself of her cardigan and dress rather quickly as well.
Once both of them were in their underwear, sort of awkwardly, Santana gladly attached their lips to ease the tension. Her hands roamed Quinn's skin, getting familiar with new territory as she led both of them to the bed. Quinn's back hit the bed first with Santana on top of her, the uncoordinated fall causing Santana to bite Quinn's bottom lip. Quinn made a noise between a moan and a squeal that entertained Santana.
"Quinn likes biting, who would've thought she liked it a little rough" Santana thought to herself as she began to trail kisses, latching her lips onto Quinn's skin, and sucking and slightly biting into her flesh right above the collar bone. Santana felt Quinn writhe under her, Quinn's short nails scratching at Santana's skin, her breathe coming in short spasms and moans escaping her throat.
"Stop smirking, Lopez," Quinn managed to breathe out, while enjoying being dominated by the Latina.
Santana giggled against Quinn's soft pale skin, taking both of Quinn's wrist and pinning it against her head. She pulled up, straddling Quinn after leaving a trail of red hot marks on Quinn's neck, "How could I not enjoy this? Look who's on top and who's on the bottom of the pyramid now, Fabray," she rolled her hips, causing hot friction where it needed to be for both girls and Quinn couldn't help inhale sharply at the irresistible contact.
"Bitch," Quinn moaned as she slammed her head back down on the pillow.
"You're going to feel my smirk all over your body tonight."
Santana and Quinn vanished that night for about an hour and a half. Nobody seemed to notice their absence, or the marks of lust and bite marks they left on each other's flesh. But after that night, Santana seemed to take a liking to their sleepovers that now turned into more than just sharing the same bed. Sex with Quinn was different from anyone she's ever had sex with - and though it wasn't like the explosive passion she held for Brittany when they made love, sex with Quinn was pretty damn close with the fireworks they made themselves. It was always fiery, desperate with want, and a lot of the time angry, which made it even better. Santana was always pushing, while Quinn was always pulling - it was an odd chemistry that worked and it worked even better for Santana because for whatever reason (perhaps because Quinn and Santana always shared the cold HBIC mentality) Quinn never wanted an explanation to what was going on, not like Brittany. Quinn never asked for anything Santana couldn't handle - only acted upon carnal instinct when it came calling. Quinn was easy and simple. Quinn never asked to cuddle after sex, never asked Santana to stay and spend the night (though the Latina did on more than one occasion only of course followed by morning sex the day after) and never asked Santana to explain what she couldn't. Though they were always tug-of-war type of friends, Quinn never pushed the boundaries to what Santana never wanted to discuss.
Santana didn't have to explain anything to her - didn't have to think about the future or titles or labels. She didn't have to risk anything with Quinn and Santana found a comfort in that while fighting the storm of feelings and hurt she held for Brittany. Santana was licking her wounds like a poor dog and all summer she was trying to figure out how to win Brittany back - how to convince her that she was worth more than the geek on wheels.
Then one day, on the first week of school, Santana walks passed a poster with Kurt Hummel and Rachel Berry on it (with a drawn on sharpie mustache probably done by one of the jocks that made her really resemble a Middle Eastern dictator. She halts and takes two steps back.
A vote for stars is a vote for the class of 2011 to shine bright! Rachel Berry 4 Class President & Kurt Hummel for Vice President!
And then the gears in Santana's mind began to turn and an idea clicked. Why hadn't she thought of it before? She was the most popular girl in school, that is next to Quinn anyway - she already ruled this school with an iron fist. Students still feared, respected, envied and wanted to be her. Of course who wouldn't want to be her? She's Santana freaking Lopez, the baddest bitch this side of the tracks. And the only people who would be running against her was Manhands Berry with Lady Hummel, and that ginger jock with the weird 80's mullet with some other mentally challenged jock. The only real competition was Quinn and if she could get Quinn to run with her, there would be no doubt that they would win. And winning class president would show Brittany that Santana was worth so much more than wheelchair boy, though he gave her rides to all her classes.
Speaking of Quinn, Santana furrows her forehead with concern because it's the third day of school and she still hasn't seen the blonde since their rendezvous about a week ago. She hasn't seen her in any of her classes, Glee or even Cheerios practice. Neither has Santana gotten any sexts or invites to come over which are usually pretty frequent if Quinn knows Santana is free - and Quinn knows Santana's schedule fairly well. Santana whips out her phone quickly, knowing how she would get the blonde to agree to run with her.
-Hey Fabgay, where ya been?
Santana walks to Glee club waiting for a response. By the time she sits down she feels her phone vibrate.
-Getting a makeover.
Santana smirks as she's curious to what other changes the blonde could've possibly made with her new short hair - which was Santana's favorite thing to pull during sex.
-Naughty church girl look?
-Not quite.
Santana raises an eyebrow still busy on her phone, completely ignoring Mr. Schue's enthusiastic speech about being winners this year.
-Send me a pic.
And as quickly as Santana sends her last text message, Quinn replies so fast it's as if she was anticipating that message - as if she sent it before Santana even asked. And Santana nearly falls off of her chair before she can even enlarge the picture. She's gaping at her phone, eyes bulged out and mouth hanging wide open, choking on air. She's gripping the side of her chair with her free hand, so she won't fall on her face. She's staring at a whole new Quinn.
Pink, short hair. Dark, edgy black make up. Red lipstick. A black muscle t-shirt with a leather jacket to match. And a freaking nose ring.
Sure, Santana's panties immediately flood with her wetness because Quinn looks hot as ever. Santana actually licks her lips unconsciously imagining the things she'd do to this new Quinn and now she's curious if she has a tongue ring and her heart begins to palpitate even harder in her chest. But it's not Quinn's new hot look making her panic with stress - actually it is. This is not good for their reputations as candidates for presidency. They could actually possibly lose to the little Dwarf and Porcelain if anyone finds out about this.
"Santana, is there something you'd like to share with us that seems to be so intriguing on your phone?" Mr. Schue busts Santana out, making all of the Glee club stare at her ogle at the picture of Quinn that has to stay secret.
Santana stares wide eyed at Mr. Schue and out of natural instinct, "Uh, my Abuela is having a heart attack! I have to gay - I mean go, go... I have to go!" And with that she hopped out of her chair and ran out of the room without giving anyone a chance to ask any questions.
Santana is power-walking, nearly running down the hall with her gym bag slung over her shoulder and she's texting furiously.
-Meet me in my place in 15 minutes and I swear to God if you are late, you are going to regret it ;)
Santana adds a winky face for emphasis because she knows Quinn will have a shit-eating grin when she reads it. All of Santana's sexual partners know that a winky face means in fact that they are going to have sex. And in Santana's haste to get to her car, a wheelchair runs over the foot as it exits out of a dark classroom.
"MOTHER FUUUC-" before Santana can finish her cursing and her lashing out at who she is sure to be the handicap she hates, she hears a voice that makes her stop.
"Santana?"
Santana looks up (well barely), still standing on one foot as she holds the other one in pain. She sees Brittany on Artie's lap, her arms around her neck and out of habit Santana rolls her eyes and she feels a rage burn inside of her at the view.
"Shouldn't you be in Glee club?" Brittany asks quietly.
Santana wanting to chew Artie out doesn't have the heart to do it in front of Brittany, so she bites the side of her cheek to prevent herself from using a string of profanity. But she notices something - Brittany's ponytail just a little out of alignment and Santana's knows for a fact that means they were fooling around right before exiting the room and disgusts and anger fills her body.
"I have to go, Britt. Gonna get my lady kisses on with some hot skank," Santana doesn't mean to sound spiteful, but it comes out natural that way and she can see a hint of hurt in those blue eyes that she loves so much, but she's too mad to take anything back now, especially with her foot throbbing, her panties soaked and jealousy rearing its evil green head. She walks away from the awkward scene, leaving Brittany sad and Artie confused.
As Santana's feet hit the gravel to her car, she has a little more pep in her step. She's angry, and when she's angry she craves sex even more - it cushions the hurt a little for Santana. It eases her mind and is an easy distraction from what she's actually feeling. She pulls out her phone again and texts Quinn hurriedly.
-You better be ready for the fuck of your life, Barbie. When I'm done with you, you're going to need a fucking wheelchair ;) ;) ;)