A/N: This is my first attempt at a Quinntana fic. I've been playing around with idea of this story for about a month now and I'm actually a little anxious to put it out there. Tell me what you guys think and if I should continue or if I should scrap it and try something else. As always, read, review, follow, favorite and enjoy.

...

Falling in love is like the rain. It's unpredictable, but there are always signs before it completely falls.

...

"Quinn you really don't have many options at this point," Danny Rosenthal says.

He had been Quinn's agent from the very beginning of her career. He had guided her through the sudden rush of fame as her star rose. He had promised to stand by her through the highs and lows. Right now was one of those lows.

"Danny you couldn't find someone better for me to do a movie with? I mean Santana Lopez, really?"

"She's hot right now. She has two singles in the top forty."

"Have you listened to her singles? They are pure raunch. One of them is about thongs. It's actually called 'Thong Song'. The other one is so vulgar that I don't think it gets played on the radio."

"Well that song about thongs has been number one on the charts for the last fourteen weeks."

"I hear she has a sex tape," Quinn adds.

"Allegedly. Besides that only adds to her allure."

Quinn could feel a headache coming on. She silently mused if she had refilled her prescription migraine pills. She was definitely going to need one.

"Come on Quinn. What better way to resurrect your career than to star in a movie with the hottest thing going? You're not getting any younger."

"Gee thanks for that."

"You know that's not how I meant it. All I'm saying is that you only have a few good years left before you're relegated to playing the mom or the aunt. You need to capitalize on it while you can," Danny reasoned.

Quinn let out a sigh because she knew he was right. She would be thirty in three months. In her profession that was considered ancient.

"Let me think about it Danny and I'll get back to you."

Her line beeped indicating that she had an incoming call. She looked and saw that it was her mother.

"Don't dawdle too long on this Quinn. You can't afford to let some young up and coming starlet steal this part away. You need this," Danny made sure to emphasize the last part.

"I know, I know. Hey I have a call coming in that I have to take."

Quinn clicked over before her mother had the chance to hang up.

"Hi mom," she answered.

"Hey Quinnie. I was calling to check in with you. It's been a while."

"I know mom. I've been busy. I've been working on a new project," Quinn lied.

"Glad to hear you're working honey. I told you things would turn around."

Quinn squirmed a little in her seat. She hated being untruthful to her mom, but she didn't want to give her any more cause to worry.

"How are you feeling?" Quinn asked.

"Some days are better than others. Chemo days are always tough. I miss you Quinnie."

"I know mom. I miss you too."

"Your father asked about you the other day," her mother says.

Quinn makes a few disagreeable noises, finding it hard to believe that her father is at all concerned about her well being.

"Don't be like that honey. You know that he loves you," her mother chides.

"Yeah well he has a funny way of showing it," Quinn mumbles.

"I know it's hard, but please don't shut him out. Life is too short not to tell the people we love what they mean to us while they're still here."

Quinn swallows the small inkling of remorse creeping up. With her mother's condition, she knows she should be more grateful for the place her life is in.

"I don't want to talk about dad anymore. I'll be by to see you soon okay. Do you need anything? Do you need me to send you more money?"

"I'm fine darling. All I need is to see my little girl. Don't work so hard that you forget what you're working for."

"I won't mom and I love you."

"I love you too."

...

Quinn was the youngest of two children born to Russell and Judy Fabray. They grew up in upstate New York. Russell was quite well off and Quinn and her older brother,Russell Jr., lived a life of privilege because of it. They went to the best private schools money could buy. Were always apart of the right clubs. As was expected of them, they attended Ivy League schools. Quinn attended Yale while Russell Jr. decided on Wharton. He forayed his college education into a successful investment banking career. He was married to his perfect wife and they lived in their perfect house with their two point five perfect kids. Russell Sr. could never understand why Quinn couldn't be as successful, personally and professionally, as her brother was. The plan for her was to do much of the same. Find a nice man to marry and produce the requisite grandchildren. Never the one to do what was expected of her, she decided to cut her own path and studied drama. It boggled her father's mind how someone as smart and driven as Quinn would squander her talents away in the arts. His thoughts were that the movie business was deplorable. Quinn had to agree that her father's assessment was right seventy-five percent of the time. It was that twenty five percent that made this business worthwhile.

After her phone call with her mother, Quinn was feeling a bit morose. She tried to find something in her penthouse to keep her idle mind busy, but it seemed there was nothing of interest to keep her entertained. That's how she found herself curled up in her favorite chair staring out at the New York skyline. She had long given up trying to read the book that lie open across her lap. No matter how she might try, her mind kept wondering back to all the stresses she had in her life. Danny was right when he said she needed this part. She hadn't made anything of substance in the last two and a half years. In Hollywood that's almost a death sentence for an actress's career. In a society that had the attention span of a fly, it was pertinent to always be visible and relevant. She did a few straight to video movies to keep her afloat, but that money was drying up quickly. Ever since her mother was diagnosed with Stage Three Breast Cancer, Quinn had been putting in every dime she had for her treatment. If what Danny said about Santana Lopez was true, then starring in a movie with her would definitely put her career back on the fast track. She sighed, tired of thinking about the depressing state known as her life. The weather wasn't helping much either. It had been snowing off and on for the last week. When it wasn't snowing the temperature had been absolutely frigid. She needed a suitable distraction stat. She picked up her phone and scrolled through her contacts. When she came across the name she was looking for, she hit send and waited for the call to go through.

"Rachel Berry's phone," Quinn heard after the call connected.

"Rachel why do you insist on answering your phone like that?"

"Because I'd like the caller to be informed who they are speaking to," she replies.

"I'm pretty sure that if some one is calling your private line then they know who they are calling," Quinn reasons.

"Very true. So Miss Fabray, what do I owe the pleasure of this call to?"

"Can't I just be calling to check on one of my nearest and dearest friends?"

"No. So spill it Fabray, what do you want?"

"I'm bored Rachel. Come keep me company. Please?" Quinn begs.

"I'd love too but I'm working on my new show. It opens next week and I need it to be perfect," Rachel explains.

"Ughhhhh. Fine. I suppose that's a good enough reason for you not to come running."

"Why don't you call David?"

"I really wasn't in the mood for that type of company, but I guess he'll have to do."

"Sorry I couldn't be of more help, but I promise we'll get together as soon as I get this show off the ground."

Rachel and Quinn stay on the line a little longer, firming up plans to get together before they end the call. Quinn, not wanting to spend another moment alone with her thoughts, finally gives in and calls David. She taps her fingertips on the arm of her chair anxiously, not sure if he's going to answer. Just when Quinn was sure the call was going to go to voicemail, David picks up the phone.

"Hey you," he whispers in the phone.

"Hey yourself. So I was thinking that it's awfully cold outside and I have the perfect idea for us to keep warm," she propositions.

"Q I'd love to see you, you know I would. It's just that Sheila is extra needy tonight and I can't seem to get away," he explains.

Sheila is David's wife of fifteen years. Quinn met David while she was an undergrad at Yale. He was the new head of the Drama department. Quinn thought that he was everything she wanted in a man. Smart, sophisticated, cultured, handsome and available. At least she thought he was available. Once he found out she was interested, he actively pursued her. Dinners, flowers, late nights discussing philosophy and the meaning of life. It wasn't until after the first time they slept together that she found out he was married. When she asked why he didn't wear his ring, he told her that he was separated from his wife and that they were going to get divorced. That was ten years ago. Quinn often told herself that she deserved better and should walk away. When she would get up the nerve to tell David as much, he would always seem to convince her that nobody wanted her but him. So she stayed and endure being someone's second choice.

"I was just trying to see you before I left town."

"Where are you going?" David asks.

"To L.A. for a few months. I got a part in a new movie."

"Give me a few hours. I can probably come over after she goes to sleep."

"Please don't do me any favors," Quinn spits out.

"Look Q you knew what this was when it all began. I can't come run just because you're horny."

"You know what David, go to hell!" Quinn shouts into the phone.

She abruptly ends the call and angrily tosses her cell onto the adjacent sofa. She makes her way to her wet bar seeking something strong to calm her nerves. She pours three fingers worth of cognac into a snifter and knocks it back. The burning sensation the alcohol produces on its way down has the desired affect. She pours a little more in the glass and goes in search of her meds. Just a little something to take the edge off and help her sleep.

...

"Oh my fucking God Santana!" the young woman moans.

Santana is trying for the life of her to remember the name of the woman who is currently screaming her name in ecstasy. She's naked and squirming underneath her. The least Santana could do was call her by the right name. Was it Stephanie? Or Sarah? Maybe Samantha? She was pretty sure it was Samantha.

"Samantha baby does that feel good to you?"

"Yes! Fuck yes!"

Pleased that she got the girl's name right, she focuses back on the task at hand. She could tell that Samantha was getting close. Santana threw her leg over her shoulder to get a better angle.

"Oh baby right there. Please don't stop!" Samantha calls out.

She's panting and groaning in Santana's ear and it is seriously throwing off her concentration. She searches for something to put in her mouth to silence her. She spies the girl's red thong hanging precariously from the leg that was on her shoulder. She grabs it and stuffs it in Samantha's mouth. With a little less noise, Santana is able to bring the session to a quick conclusion. She leaves Samantha basking in the afterglow while she goes to take a shower. She turns on her iPod, which is in its dock, and quickly discards her bra and panties. She steps under the shower head and lets the soothing flow of water wash over her. She smiles as the next song starts on her playlist. There couldn't be a more appropriate theme song for the moment. She sings along to the chorus as she soaps up her body.

"Loving me baby, that's a no no. I'm better when I touch and go. I'm trying to add your name to my hall of fame. I'm not just a player, I'm a pro lover."

She continues to hum along while she plans out her day. Maybe she would head to the studio today. She has a song rolling around in her head, itching to get free. She finishes up her shower and leaves the ensuite to get dressed for the day.

"Are you going to let me have my turn now?" Samantha asks from underneath the sheets.

Santana stops drying her hair, bewildered that her plaything hadn't left yet.

"Why are you still here?" Santana asks.

"You just gave me several mind numbing orgasms and I wanted to return the favor," she explains.

"Look sweetheart, I don't know what you thought this was, but this ain't that. We had fun and now it's time to go."

"Seriously?" Samantha asks incredulously.

"Seriously," Santana responds.

Santana stands with her arms folded across her chest. She closes her eyes and silently counts to ten hoping that she won't have to go all Lima Heights Adjacent on this chick. She usual has a strict rule about bringing her one night stands home. Last night she was lonely and bored and Samantha was looking delicious in her tight red dress. When the young woman popped up at the after party, clearly just to see Santana, it was hard to say no. She let her desires get the best of her and she's beginning to regret that decision.

"The rumors are true about you Santana Lopez. You're a real bitch," Samantha says furiously.

"Sweetheart I've been called worst things by better people," Santana chuckles.

"Kiss my ass," Samantha retorts.

"Maybe next time. Don't let the doorknob hit you on the way out," Santana smiles.

She continues to get dressed while Samantha angrily gathers her things and leaves. She's in the middle of applying her makeup when her phone rings.

"Talk to me Puckerman," she says by way of greeting.

Noah Puckerman is Santana's agent and long time friend. They grew up in Lima, Ohio together and moved to L.A. to chase their dreams. Noah is one of the few people in Santana's life that she trusts wholly. He never agrees with her just to pacify her ego and holds no qualms about telling it like it is. Noah always has her best interest at heart. He's a big part of the reason she is as successful as she is today. She puts him on speaker while he continues to get ready.

"Update on your movie. Looks like we might have snagged Quinn Fabray," he says proudly.

"Quinn Fabray. So you guys just went out and found the whitest white girl you could get huh?" she says incredulously.

"You needed some one with some credibility."

"Credibility? Has she done anything worthwhile lately?" Santana asks.

Santana makes her way to the kitchen for a caffeine pick me up. She has a long day ahead of her and is functioning on no sleep.

"No, but that's exactly why she's perfect. She's talented and respected enough that people will take this movie seriously, but not such a big star that she will eclipse you," Noah explains.

"I won't have anything in common with Miss W.A.S.P. There's no way anyone is going to believe we're buddies. We need chemistry for this thing to work. I don't like it Noah. My answer is no. Find somebody else."

"There is nobody else. Nobody worth having wants to touch anything you're in with a ten foot pole."

"Why the hell not? I'm smoldering right now. Every male and female between the ages of thirteen and thirty five either wants to be me or do me. Who wouldn't want to be in a movie with me?" she says, clearly insulted.

"Sorry to say it babe, but you're a little lewd."

"Lewd sells albums. Lewd gets endorsement deals. Lewd has made you and I very rich," she states.

"This is all true but if you're really sincere about changing your public image, than this is the first step."

"isn't she old?" Santana asks.

"She's not old, she's seasoned. You're not too far off from her age either while you're getting all judgy," Noah says.

"I still don't like it," Santana pouts.

"Well I suggest that you dig deep and find a way to like it. Oh and figure out a way to get Quinn to sign on. She's our last hope. If she doesn't do it, there will be no movie."

...

"Exactly what would this movie be about?" Quinn asks Danny.

After a few days of quiet contemplation, she decided to go ahead and shoot the movie. She figured what did she have to lose. Well besides her dignity, her reputation and her self respect.

"It's a buddy movie slash chick flick. You know a few jokes, a few tears. Everyone lives happily ever after at the end. It should be a cake walk," Danny explains.

"I'm not doing any nudity Danny. No full frontal. No topless. Nothing," Quinn demands.

"It's a buddy movie Quinn. Why would you think you'd be getting naked?" Danny asks.

"Because Santana Lopez is involved. From the pictures I've seen, I don't think she owns any clothing that's bigger than a bra and a G string."

Danny just chuckles at Quinn's opinion of her future co-star's fashion choices.

"How long would I be shooting?" Quinn asks.

"Two, three months tops. The producers would be putting you up at The Chateau. All expenses paid of course."

The thought of staying at a The Chateau Marmont definitely sweetened the deal. It had been awhile since she stayed there. She closed her eyes and could already feel the amazingly comfortable bed should would be sleeping in. Not that her own bed wasn't comfortable, but sleeping in it by herself in her own home just always reminded her of how lonely she was. At least in a different location that wasn't something she was prone to think about. She could most certainly use the change of scenery. She glances back out at the dreary afternoon sky. It was starting to snow again. Quinn checks the weather app on her phone and calculates that there is a forty degree difference in temperature between New York and L.A. She made up her mind. She had enough of this winter time blues and all of the bullshit that seemed to be coming along with it.

"Send me over the script to read through and the contract so my lawyer can take a look at it. If everything looks good, I'll sign it and get it back to you by the end of the week."

"You won't regret this Fabray," Danny says excitedly.

"I highly doubt that, but at this point what other choice do I have," she states matter of factly.

They firm up a couple more details before they hang up. Quinn starts to make a mental checklist of things she'll need to get done to be ready for her trip. People she'll need to inform of her whereabouts. Sadly the people part of her list isn't nearly as long as she would like it to be. She pushes down the growning feeling of melancholy and continues with her planning.

"Well here's goes nothing."

...

Quinn is greeted by the early morning sun and the incessant buzzing of her intercom. She rolls out of bed and goes to the unit on the wall to see who in God's name would wake her up this early.

"What?" she barks into the speaker.

"Miss Fabray I have a delivery for you here at the door. Should I sign for it?"

"Sure Johnny. Send it up to the penthouse."

Quinn goes about finding a robe and making herself half way presentable to greet the delivery man. She ambles towards the door, still rubbing sleep out of her eyes. When she opens the door, she isn't nearly ready for what she sees.

"Where would you like us to put everything ma'am?" the gentleman asks.

Quinn is at a lost of exactly how much stuff there is being delivered. She motions for them to place everything in the formal living room. The delivery men, yes men as in more than one, make quick work of placing the things. Quinn signs and closes the door behind her. She makes her way back to her living room, astonished at the sight before her. There ware five bouquets of lilies, a fruit basket, a champagne basket, chocolates from some ridiculously expensive shop, a basket with an assortment of lotions and bubble baths. Quinn goes looking for a card to see who sent all of this.

"David has apologized before, but never in such a grand way. He must really be feeling remorseful," she says to herself.

She finally finds a card tucked away in one of the bouquets. The envelope is blank so she fishes out the card inside.

Miss Fabray, it is my esteemed pleasure to be working with you on this movie. I hope you accept my token of gratitude. Here's to making movie magic.

Santana

Quinn bites her lip and looks pensively at the card again. Maybe she misjudged Santana Lopez. This movie might turn out not to be so painful after all.