A/N: Hey amores,

That's my first fanfic here, so take it easy on me, kay?

English's not my first language, and I'm too lazy to look for a beta. :-( If anyone's willing to help though I'll be super happy haha

Unfortunately I don't own any of glee characters or glee.

Hope you guys like it!

"What do you mean we'll have a visitor?", Santana was following her husband's steps, once again frustrated by his actions. Jeremiah was far from being a good partner. It was almost like their relationship was built by him and his own wills. The latina was just a part of it. An irrelevant and small part of it. "You know, there are some fuckin' basics rules every married man should know about..."

"Yeah..?", Jeremiah didn't have any intention to hide the sarcasm in his voice. "Like what?"

"Like fucking asking their fucking wives if they want to receive strangers in her house"

"They're not fucking strangers, that dude's my fucking best friend. And this is my house", Jeremiah said impatiently. Santana rolled her eyes.

"Oh, sure, a best friend you don't see for about ten years. Gosh, can't they just stay in a hotel?", Santana hated receiving Jeremiah's friends in her house, especially because most of them sucked as much as her husband. They were all loose, messy and it'd make her even angrier whenever they started to party IN the house. Of course to Jeremiah none of them could help with the house cleaning... You know, that's "Santana's problem".

The only reason the latina stayed in this marriage was 'cause of her family (especially her grandparents). They were all conservative, and wouldn't accept if she got divorced. A Lopez can't just divorce the person they choose to spend all the life with. It doesn't exist this reality in this family.

Why Santana had to marry so young? God damn it, she was only 21 years old, why nobody tried to open her eyes? Ok, she's pretty stubborn, but that doesn't matter, her dad should be against it. She should had listened to her best friend when she said that that wasn't a smart move, and now the latina has to deal with so many consequences. It's almost suffocating.

"What's your fucking problem? They are staying here, I already told them, deal with it", he said as he sat on the armchair, turning the TV on.

"Them? Did you just say THEM?", Santana almost screamed. Oh. My. Gosh, she was so fuckin screwed. She just wanted to leave this house and tell fucking Jeremiah and all of his friends to go fuck themselves.

"Yeah, yeah! Sean's coming with his wife... Now stop talking shit and go get my beer, I'm thirsty as hell", Santana laughed loudly at his words. The latina could keep arguing, but she know it'd be pointless. At least this Sean guy was married, maybe he was different from all of his other single and annoying as hell friends. She walked in her room's direction. "Hey, what about my beer?", he got no response.

"Bitch", she said lazily as she disappeared in the hallway darkness.

"Fuck you", he screamed back.

The funniest thing is Santana don't even remember how or why they get to treat each other that way. There wasn't any love left. Jeremiah would go out with his friends whenever he wanted, leaving his wife by herself. Santana barely did the same, especially because she not only hated her marriage, but also hated that fucking city where everybody judged everybody. She didn't have many friends there, most of them were from high school and were leaving their lives far away from there. She wouldn't blame them, though, that's all Santana wanted now.

But the worst part was the way they'd act around people. They'd just transform themselves, and many residents of the city just thought they were the perfect young couple. Not even her mom knew about how Santana really felt about that relationship. No one besides her best friend, Brittany, knew it.

The submission that passed through every generation of the Lopez family was one of the hardest things to deal with, especially when you're young and has different ways to see life. But there wasn't any options. You leave by their customs, or you'll probably be disinherited.

During the night, they didn't exchange a word. Santana busied herself reading while her husband just snored in his sleep. To Santana, reading was an attempt to run away from her own life, a habit she got after her first year of marriage. Whenever she felt angry, she'd read to relieve her soul.

"So... How long they're staying?", Santana broke the silence.

"I don't know, maybe a month... He didn't say when he'd leave", he shrugged.

"Wonderful" the latina thought out loud, but her husband didn't say a word, probably because he didn't hear her.

Ten more minutes of waiting and the flight had finally arrived. Many unknown people suddenly appeared, but Santana only recognized Sean when he was hugging Jeremiah.

She never really saw him in person, only in pictures. Apparently he was Jeremiah's best friend since ever, and during middle school they sort of separated because Sean had to move to England and Jeremiah moved to New Jersey a few years after that. They met a few times in New York during some weekends, but Santana never wanted to go.

"Good to see ya, bro", Sean said as he now called someone who, apparently, was behind them. Santana didn't see her before, probably because she was too focused on how Sean looked better in person. He had an athletic body and a short blond haircut that was stand upright in front and on top, with the sides cut close to the shade of his head. Well, that woman he now introduced to them was as beautiful as Sean – or even more. Well, definitely more. Her blonde hair reached her shoulder blades, and the white sundress she was using highlighted her hazel eyes. She was stunning!

Sean touched her shoulder in an affective way, as he presented her to them.

"This is Quinn", he said with a smile. "Q, this is my friend Jeremiah and his wife, Santana" then he offered his hand to Santana "It's nice to finally meet you, by the way",

"Indeed! Nice to meet you too", the latina squeezed his hand in response.

"Well, we really appreciate your goodwill to receive us in your home, Santana...", that was the first time Quinn opened her mouth to say something. She stopped to look to the brunette for a few seconds before she finally looked to Jeremiah. Santana felt her heart stop for a second (or minutes?) "...and Jeremiah".

"Always a pleasure for us to receive my old buddy and his beautiful wife. Damn man, you didn't tell she was that hot. I mean, definitely saw some pictures, but damnnn", Jeremiah laughed, and by the way Sean looked, Santana knew he was not comfortable at all.

"Ex", Quinn interrupted his laugh.

"What?"

"Ex wife. We got divorced. I thought you told him that", the blonde looked at Sean suspiciously.

"I did"

"Yeah...", Jeremiah was clearly confused. "Yeah, he told me, I just forgot about this... minor detail"

"Well, I can definitely stay in a hotel if..."

"Nope! There are more than one guest room, you can stay as long as you want", Santana didn't know what encouraged her to have the guts to say that, but the words easily went out of her mouth before even traveling through her brain. Jeremiah seemed to be surprised too.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. You'll stay with us, now let's get going, I'm fucking starving now", Jeremiah completed. He looked relieved, probably because his wife saved his ass (as usual).

The travel to the Padilla's house was basically filled out of Sean and Jeremiah's voices. Santana was in the backseat with Quinn, and she just couldn't control herself whenever her eyes went to the blonde that was too concentrated in her own book to notice the brunettes' stares. It was pretty awkward though. Why did she want Quinn to stay in her house? Minutes ago she was wishing they'd just go away already. She leaned against the window, trying her best not to think on how she acted minutes ago. Was it too clear that she was staring at Quinn? What if the blonde noticed? She probably didn't.

As soon as they arrived, Sean and Jeremiah went to the back yard as Santana tried to occupy her mind cooking dinner for all of them. She didn't know where Quinn was, and neither why she was worrying about that. It was that look. That fucking look that Quinn probably uses to break everyone's mind in peaces. Was Santana that needy? She was just trying to organize her own thoughts, but a voice broke her concentration.

"Need any help?", Santana didn't need to turn around to see who that was.

"No, thanks", the latina replied.

"Are you sure?" ugh, couldn't Santana control herself? She looked at Quinn and her fucking perfect eyes, but didn't say a word. "You should be careful", Quinn approached Santana and after a few seconds of silence, she continued to talk. "You seem too disperse to do that" the blonde's hand touched Santana's. They looked to each other and Santana didn't know how to breath anymore. After a few seconds, she took the knife from her hands. "Let me do this and you take a look at the rice, it smells burnt"

"Ohhh fuck!", Santana almost screamed. She regretted as soon as she saw Quinn's discreet smile. "I always fucking burn the rice, I suck at this"

"I doubt it", Quinn didn't look at her. She continued focused on the tomatoes she was cutting. "As I said, you were just a little away"

"Well, you definitely saved me from having a fight tonight. Or not"

"Why's that?" Quinn asked.

"Jeremiah can be a pain in the ass..." Santana said without thinking. "...Sometimes"

Quinn smiled.

"Husbands being husbands", the blonde replied. "So, what do you do for fun? It seems to be a pretty quiet city here"

"Nothing" Santana shrugged.

"How come?"

"I don't do anything besides goin' to my mom's and all this boring shit"

"That sounds boring, you don't have any friends?"

"Most of them don't live here anymore"

"Mmm"

Awkward silence. Santana didn't want to be a pain in the ass, but she missed having a friend. Talking to someone. Whatever. She coughed, looking at Quinn with the corner of her eyes. The blonde was temperating the salad.

"So, what about you? Apparently you're a british woman with a perfect american accent and all that shit... What else?" Santana knew she cursed a lot, but she just couldn't control herself. She did that whenever she felt too comfortable or nervous around someone.

"Wait... Am I british? You sure seem to know a lot about me", Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"Well, that's a hell of a good question", Santana laughed embarrassedly.

Quinn started to laugh at Santana's face. "I am... I mean, I'm british"

"So what was that about? To make me feel embarrassed?"

"Did it work?", oh not again. Not those intensive fucking eyes again, Santana thought to herself.

"Hell no. You're never gonna see me embarrassed"

"Sure not, Mrs. Padilla", Quinn used her english accent, and Santana just couldn't not notice how sexy that was. The blonde grabbed the vessel of salad "Salad's done"

"Well, that's the only thing we're serving by the way, I ruined all the dinner"

"Pizza's always the best solution", Quinn blinked.

"So fucking right", Santana said as she got the phone and called the best pizzeria of the city. She couldn't stop looking at Quinn, though. Why was her body reacting that way? She's not used to that. Was she obsessed? Everything in that woman was so inviting. Those eyes. That voice. Her lip-.

No, Santana, you're making things up. Don't fuck up!

"Done?", Quinn asked with a little smile on her lips.

Damn, not again. Was Santana staring? Did Quinn caught her staring? Fuck, why did the latina felt like a teenager right now?

"Y-Yeah..." fuck! "Mm... So, are you gonna explain me the accent thing or what?"

"Why the fuck you're taking so long to s-", Jeremiah entered the kitchen, but stopped talking as soon as he realized Quinn was there too.

"I fucked the rice up, so we're getting a pizza" Santana answered, and when she looked at Quinn, realized the blonde's reprover look.

"We're serving a salad that Santana made anyways", Quinn commented. Jeremiah nodded and went back to the back yard.

"Did I make the salad now?", the latina raised her eyebrows.

"You did"

"Ok, ok, whatever. You didn't have to do that though, I'm already used to his bad attitude"

Quinn didn't replied. The mood between them was a little bit heavy, and Santana didn't even know why.

"So, when are you gonna explain this british american thing, uh?"

"Whenever you want. Not right now, though, your husband's waiting for you"

Santana had to control herself not to say what she wanted. She wanted to show her how she didn't fucking care, but that wouldn't be a smart attitude. She barely knew that woman.

"I think that means I'll probably never know"

"You can always show up in the guest room, Mrs. Padilla. That's your house anyway" Quinn blinked before disappearing through the door that'd led her to the back yard.

And all Santana thought was... Fuck!

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!