A/N: I know it's been a while since I've updated any of my stories, so you're probably not waiting for a one shot. This has been in my head since forever and I felt like writing it. I'm not 100% happy about it, but I won't be able to write very much since college is getting in the way a lot of the time. So I thought I'd just get this out of my system Thanks for reading and leave a review if you have something to share!

When Quinn drives away from Willy's Tire Shop, she knows it's the last time she ever set foot in that place. William Morrison – friends call him Willy – just can't stop complimenting her mother in the most vomit inducing way imaginable. She wonders how it is that he thinks it's okay to talk to her about her mother like that. Who wants to hear that their mother is still apparently a 'tasty pie' that Willy would sure like to 'have a bite of'?

So the next time she needs something, she decides to do a sort-of friend a favour and parks her car on the parking lot of Hummel Tires & Lube. She takes a deep breath and turns the ignition off. As she walks over to the entrance, she prays that she won't run into Finn – but her track record with the universe doesn't give her much hope. It's not that she doesn't get along with Finn anymore, she just prefers staying away from him and his awkward attempts at making conversation when they both know his head is somewhere else.

She wrinkles her nose at the smell that hits her as she enters the shop. The radio is playing in the distance – she doesn't recognise the song. A few cars are spread over the surface and she has to actively repress the urge to rearrange everything until it's at least neat and orderly.

She only notices someone buried in the hood of a car when she hears them whistling to the song. As soon as she has, however, Quinn finds herself unable to pull her gaze away from that magnificent ass. She takes a quick look around – nobody to be seen – and relaxes, allowing herself to let her gay side out to play, at least for the time being.

Because there's no question about it – that ass belongs to a girl. Granted, a girl wearing men's jeans and apparently a pair of men's boxers as well, and a white tank top stained with grease. Quinn's eyes take in the sight and she feels something familiar throbbing between her legs when she notices the guns on this woman. Without realising it, she bites her lip and lets out a small whimper. That ass, those arms, that entire fucking body – and she hasn't even seen the front. Quinn really, really hopes this isn't a case of butterface (à la Rachel Berry), because it would be a total waste.

She only tunes back into the real world when the woman starts singing along to the next song, which she does recognise to be Constant Craving by k.d. lang. Her ears perk up at the sound, she knows that voice. It couldn't be…

The woman turns around.

Holy crap.

Holy crap, she just cursed. But, holy crap.

"Q? What's up? You got lost on the way to grandmother with your cookies?"

Santana Lopez.

Santana Lopez wiping her hand on a rag dangling from her belt, running said hand through her long, thick, jet black hair, those biceps flexing. The tank top riding up, exposing the tiniest hint of Santana's stomach and her abs and… how is she supposed to even be breathing?

"Earth to blondie!"

Quinn finally recovers and looks up. "I… uh… I…"

Waiting for Quinn to answer coherently, Santana stretches her arms behind her back, causing her chest to pop out and Quinn to blush profusely.

Santana grins. "You checking me out?"

"N-no. I… my…" She takes a deep breath. "I think something's wrong with my car, but I don't know what. It takes ages for it to start up."

"I'll have a look at it in a second, I've got to finish this one up first. I can't promise you that I can get it fixed today, though, since the resident douchebag decided he had better things to do than help out his extended old man."

"I didn't know you worked here," Quinn manages, her eyes still glued to Santana's body.

Of course she has always knows that Santana Lopez was the hottest girl in Lima – she's got eyes and they've been on the Cheerios together for years – but something about this outfit opens her eyes and turns her on to no end.

Santana shrugs. "A girl needs money."

"You never had to work for money before. We both know that Lima Heights Adjacent act comes from those few times you visit your grandmother. I mean, you live three blocks down from me."

"Parents kicked me out," Santana answers. She tries to play it cool, but her voice is strained and Quinn can see how much it actually pains her…. friend to say it.

"What? Why?" She can barely stop herself from mentioning how Santana always bragged that her parents always allowed her to do what she wanted because they didn't quote unquote give a fuck.

Santana tries to wipe a smear of grease away from her cheek, but only makes it worse. Quinn noticed the sweat dripping down her neck and –

"I don't know. I guess they figured I'm eighteen now and I can stand on my own two feet."

"Santana…"

"I gotta get back to work. I'll have a look at your car when I'm done."

Quinn knows that Santana isn't going to tell her anything today, so she decided to leave it for the moment being.

But she's Quinn Fabray and she doesn't give up. So suddenly, she really needs a lot of stuff for her car, which is also seemingly falling apart for the amount of times she finds herself in Hummel Tires & Lube.

Quinn tells herself that she needs to be there, but she knows that she can't fool herself either. Santana looks great in that white, grease-smeared tank, those jeans that are men's jeans one day and tight ones the next. And then there are those times she's wearing overalls.

Quinn's panties are ruined all the time and she has to change out of them when she comes home every time. She figures that after getting pregnant as a teenager by cheating on her boyfriend, touching herself isn't going to send God into a tizzy.

After a few days, Quinn stops making up excuses. Sometimes, Finn is there, but she manages to avoid him. She likes the shop. She likes to sit there, read there, study there. Burt doesn't mind, in fact he welcomes her.

She spends even more time there when she notices that her mother has actually given in to Willy Morrison's sleazy attempts at getting in her pants and he's around the house annoyingly much. She's avoiding him desperately.

She's talked to Burt Hummel a couple of times and he seems to be a nice man, so she does feel kind of guilty when she tricks him into telling her why her parents kicked Santana out.

"So, Santana told me why her parents kicked her out," Quinn sighs when Santana is on a break. "It must be so hard for her."

"Yeah," Burt replies. "I can't imagine that. I mean, I just can't picture myself throwing Kurt out for coming out to me. It's not like I had no clue either and yeah, maybe Santana isn't as stereotypical, but to throw your own kid out… and the poor girl loses her girlfriend on top of that. I don't get much of relationships anymore, you kids make it complicated, but she was heartbroken, the poor thing."

"How is the campaign going?"

"Great, it's going great! At least, it feels like it. I gotta tell you, I was happy to offer Santana a job. I can use the help in the shop, Finn is off half of the time and she struggled a bit in the beginning, but now she's getting real good at it. I'm proud of her."

"So, where do you live?" Quinn asks a few days later.

Santana is working on an old car.

"I stayed at the Hummels, but only for a couple of days. Plaine and the Dwarf are over for Kurt and Finn all the time and they seriously worked on my fucking nerves."

"Where do you live now?"

Santana's shoulders tense. "Somewhere."

"Santana Alessandra Lopez." Quinn gives her a stern, penetrating look.

"Mycar."

"What?"

"My car," Santana sighs. "I live out of my car, okay? And before you ask any questions: yes, it works. I shower at McKinley when everyone else is gone. I use the toilet at Billy's Highway Diner. I do my homework in the public library."

"Santana, that's ridiculous! I live in this humongous house and it's just my mom and me. You should move in with us."

"No offence, but I've been there and the atmosphere is a bitch. I also happen to love my independence."

"Santana, you can't live in your car."

"It works for me. And hey, don't tell anyone, okay? I kinda want to preserve my dignity. I don't even know why I told you."

"That's because you can't resist me," Quinn teases. Hanging out in this place has allowed her to loosen up a little.

Santana pretends to give Quinn a once-over and licks her lips exaggeratedly. "Hm. Looking pretty good, Fabray, but if we're being honest, we both know you are the one checking out my hot ass all the time."

Santana laughs at the blush creeping up on Quinn's cheeks.

A few days later, Quinn manages to convince Santana that she can help her. Quinn, with her penchant for planning everything from her school workload to the clipping of her nails, helps her put up a financial plan and contact the required services so that she can get her own place.

Quinn isn't sure exactly how they went from snarky banter to heartfelt conversations (that was mostly at the end of the day, though, when both were tired) to this.

But she knows that she likes it.

The shop has really grown on her. She kinda likes the noise and the smell and the atmosphere, and she certainly kinda likes the way Santana touches her in the bathroom on her breaks.

Somewhere along the road, she lost some inhibitions. She smiles when Santana cups her ass and squeezes it before kissing her on the lips.

"Gotta get back to work, blondie," Santana winks. She washes her hands at the sink and walks back into the shop, as if she didn't just give Quinn a mind-blowing orgasm in the bathroom stall.

When Quinn has straightened out her hair and walks back into the shop herself, she immediately hears Rachel Berry's loud, annoying voice.

"Santana, I hope that you don't think that you are entitled to rob Finn off his position in this shop. Burt is his father now and Finn has been working here for longer than you have. He is to take over the shop once Burt has relocated to Washington after winning the elections. This is Finn's dream and you are unscrupulously taking it away from him, once again not even thinking about other people in the process of laying claim on what you want."

"Listen, midget, it's time you stopped putting your annoying schnozz -"

"Rachel," Quinn interrupts in a sickeningly sweet voice of which everyone in the room knows it's not a good sign. "I think it's time you stopped harassing Santana and blame her for the fact that she's working harder than your boyfriend because she actually appreciates her job. Burt hasn't decided anything and knowing him, he probably won't be making a choice anyway, but if he does, I suggest you tell your awkwardly tall boyfriend to stop taking the chances he gets for granted and actually use them to his advantage."

Rachel looks like she's about to protest, but then huffs and does a storm-out true to her style.

Santana looks at Quinn, smirks and quirks an eyebrow. "That was hot, Fabray. I guess I should… thank you," she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

"Your shift is almost over, Santana," Quinn pouts.

"Then you should come over to my place," Santana answers nonchalantly.

"Your… place?" Quinn asks, her voice laced with disbelief. "You mean?"

Santana nods and grins. "I moved in a few days ago."

"What? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Figured I'd surprise you. So, what do you say, a quicky at my place later?"

Santana having her own place proves to be very handy. It's small and a bit dinky and not much, but it's good enough. Good enough to avoid Willy Morrison and good enough to satisfy her sexual needs in, which have gone through the roof since she started having sex with Santana.

A few weeks later, Quinn is standing at Santana's doorstep, surrounded by bags.

Santana gives her a confused look, but invites her in anyway. "What are you doing?"

"I'm moving in," Quinn states.

"What? Why?"

Quinn sits down, sighs, and puts her head in her hands. "William Morrison has actually moved in with us and I refuse to live in the same house. My mother has fallen so, so low. He's not even a nice guy! He's just sleazy and cheesy. I figured since you're lonely here anyway and I helped you get this place, I'd move in here."

"I'm sorry about that, but couldn't you, like, ask?"

Quinn decided to play it smart. "Don't you want me to move in? You do realize that it means 24-hour-access to my body. I'm also a mean cook and I know you suck at that, despite the fact that you'd never admit it."

Santana is silent for a while, but then she grins. "I guess we should christen the place."

"I guess we should," Quinn beams.

Six years later, Burt Hummel and family are cordially invited to Quinn Fabray & Santana Lopez' wedding in New York.

Fin.