Okay, so this happened! I can't remember exactly why it happened because I started it a while ago, but I'm pretty sure it had something to do with GorgeousSmile and I fantasizing as usual.
It's Quinntana, rated M, it's definitely AU and yeah, I think it mostly explains itself. So, hope you all like it! Also, it has two parts and the second one is pretty much finished...if you want me to update faster...that's all I'm gonna say. ;)
Part I
"Recalculating…"
"Recalculate this, you stupid bitch!"
After another lap around a block in Brooklyn that now looked all too familiar, Quinn Fabray was beginning to regret throwing her malfunctioning GPS out of the window and letting it smash on the concrete. Obeying the stop sign that she had already stopped at twice, she turned her head to the left and did her best to ignore the grisly looking man who was cat calling her yet again. She knew he had to be a serial killer; her parents hadn't raised a fool. But apparently they had raised a daughter foolish enough to think that driving around New York City alone just days after having moved there was a brilliant idea – because it wasn't.
"I should've never taken this job, what was I thinking?" she mumbled to herself as she blindly felt for the MapQuest pages that were floating around somewhere on the passenger seat. After two years of community college in Lima, Ohio, she had an associate degree in social work and a lifetime's distaste for the Midwest. So, with her parents' money in her bank account she had set off for the bright lights of the big city to take a part-time job and to pursue her true dream of studying at NYU Law. And it was just an added bonus that she wouldn't have to pretend that she was straight anymore. But so far all she had found was that most of the lights were burned out, law school was filled with pretentious idiots and that all of the hot and half way normal girls were nowhere to be seen.
Finally, she found the papers she was searching for and while looking them over she accelerated, ready to get the hell out of wherever she happened to be at the moment. But even after already having traveled the area a few times, she hadn't spotted the gaping pothole in the middle of the street and soon her spine was being jarred and her poor Infiniti G37 Coupe was jerking to a stop.
"Oh my God!" Quinn practically cried, tossing the papers back to the seat to put the car into park. "Oh my God, oh my God!" she continued to chant as she threw open the door and stepped out, forgetting all about the dingy surroundings that she had gotten herself lost in. "No, no, no, no!"
There was no fire or smoke billowing out like she expected, but it was horrifying enough to find one of the front tires submerged in the never ending crater in the concrete. Before she knew what she was doing, she was taking her cell phone from her blazer pocket on impulse. Her father's number was half way keyed in when suddenly she realized what she was doing and stopped herself.
"No! I am not calling my dad!" she announced aloud to no one in particular. There was nothing he could do from half way across the country anyway, and it would only hurt her pride and stroke his ego to have to go through with the phone call.
"You might wanna call a tow truck though," the serial killer from the corner suggested as he approached, coming to assess the damage as well. "She's lookin' a little flat."
"You! You just stay over there!" With her index finger as her only weapon, Quinn pointed at him accusingly and sidestepped back towards the open car door. "I have mace on my keychain!" That had the man retreating a bit and he only stared in confusion as he watched the so obviously out of place woman get back into her car, slam the door and hit the automatic locks.
"Oh God, what am I gonna do?" Quinn asked herself frantically and then ran her fingers through short blonde strands that were still tinged with faded pink.
Ten minutes later, she was driving on a flat tire, along a side street that was bordered with graffiti lined buildings. There were small clusters of people – violent gang members without a doubt – yelling at her in Spanish and needless to say she was close to wetting her skirt. Then, like a gift from the heavens that her father liked to lecture about, an auto shop that was tagged with more graffiti than all of the other buildings combined came into view.
Another five minutes passed and she was standing inside a tiny makeshift lobby that was coated in a thick film of grime. "Excuse me, sir," Quinn called to a man that was pecking at the keyboard of a dilapidated computer behind a counter. "Please, please tell me you can change tires here. I just –"
"No hablo inglés," he said quickly and with that, he was disappearing through another door.
Quinn, with her mouth hanging open in helplessness was on the verge of tears when the door opened again and he reappeared just as fast as he had gone. Only this time he wasn't alone. Behind him lazily trailed a figure that made Quinn's anxiety levels dip and her hormones howl. It was ill timed and completely unexpected but she just couldn't help it.
"Yo," the grease covered brunette with an undercut said as she continued to scan through some paper work in her hand. "What can I do fughh…" her words trailed into a sound that didn't really resemble any words at all and she drew her attention upwards along bare legs, a pristine white skirt, cleavage between the lapels of a navy blazer, and a ridiculously beautiful face. "Whoa…"
The once over was easily noticeable, but in her current mood Quinn couldn't appreciate it like she normally would have. In fact, if she hadn't been so frazzled she would have loved to check out the girl in front of her in return. She had never been so turned on by a shapeless, faded blue jumpsuit in her entire life. "Did you just –?" she stuttered as she gestured to herself. "Ugh! Whatever! You just better speak English!"
"Hey now!" the brunette shot to the defense and tossed her papers on the countertop. "I just said like half a sentence in English, so don't be comin' up in here with your rich girl attitude and gettin' all on me." She raised her index finger much like Quinn had done to the corner serial killer and quirked a brow. "'Cause I will ends you."
A few seconds passed where Quinn was too stunned, aroused, and terrified to speak, and then the brunette was laughing and offering her hand. "I'm just playin' you, I'm Santana Lopez. What can I do for you?" she asked politely, her bright smile dazzling through the smudges on her otherwise clear skin.
"Quinn Fabray, but do I really have to shake your hand?" Quinn countered, eyeing the nearly black hand that was just getting much too close to her clean clothes.
Once again, the fire that had been in Santana's eyes came back and she rubbed her palm along her stained pant leg. "Damn, you really don't have any manners, do you? But no, I guess you don't have to, just tell me what you want a'fores I really do get pissed off."
Gesturing out the foggy glass of the only window, Quinn sniped, "My car just nearly fell into the Grand fucking Canyon out there and now I have a flat tire and I'm majorly late for my first work assignment! So, I want you to fix it, that's what I want!"
"You're a bitch, Quinn," Santana deadpanned and then smirked flirtatiously. "I like you…let's go take a look at your car."
~S~Q~S~Q~S~Q~S~Q~
"Well, the bad news is that it's flat for sure," Santana said as she studied the tire, her hands on her hips and her head cocked to the side. Quinn was in the same stance just mere feet behind her, but she was studying the contours of her new infuriating acquaintance's ass. "The good news is that you get to spend the next hour with me while I fix it!"
"Huh…"
Turning around, Santana broke Quinn's hardened concentration. "I said you're going to have to stay here for a while if you want me to fix this. Are you like slow or something?"
"No!" the blonde blurted out, clearly offended. "I'm studying law at NYU!"
"Ha! But I bet you haven't studied anything as hard as you were just studying my ass," Santana said nonchalantly and then held out her hand. "Give me the keys."
"I beg your pardon! I –"
The keys jingled as they exchanged hands and Santana's laughter was just as musical. "Blah, blah, blah…come on, blondie, we have a tire to replace."
~S~Q~S~Q~S~Q~S~Q~
Since there was no clean surface in the entire garage to sit, Quinn entertained herself with pacing back and forth in front of the hood of her car while trying to fan herself with her hand. "Is it always so hot in here?" she asked.
"Hmm, yeah, it's usually pretty hot in here," Santana drawled as she searched through an assortment of tools for a tire iron. "But I think a lot of it has to do with you," she finished with a wink and somewhat of a shy smile.
Quinn wanted to come back with a snotty retort but along with being annoyingly sexy and forward, Santana was also cute in an odd way. It made her feel even hotter and she had to hide her own smile by turning her back and pacing in the opposite direction. "So, are you the only one around here who speaks English?" She hadn't really thought about how rude the question might have sounded, she was just curious and too busy looking over the menagerie of equipment that she would have had no idea how to use. "Oh! I'm sorry," she swiftly backtracked, turning around to face the brunette again. "I didn't mean to sound so…you know, I just…"
"It's okay," Santana said in an easy tone. "It's a legit question, but no I'm not the only one. I think you just freaked Ricky out so bad that he forgot that he actually does know how to speak English."
Quinn stopped and perched against the hood of her car, realizing that it hadn't been tainted with grease or dust yet. "Freaked him out? He freaked me out!"
Santana just laughed as she finished removing the hubcap and fitted the tire iron to one of the lug nuts. "I meant that you freaked him out by being all the hotness that you are and showing up in this 'hood."
"Oh…oh, I see…" Quinn answered slowly, not being able to control it as the heat in her body and the garage developed into a full blown blush. She glanced down and ran her hand along the top of the fender, noticing that another hand was lying not far from her own as Santana inspected her work. With a newfound boldness, she walked her fingers over the pearlescent white paint and then trailed a fingertip over greasy knuckles.
A gasp escaped Santana as she jerked her hand away in the most feminine gesture she had yet to display. "What was that for?"
Quinn shrugged and grinned down at the girl who was practically kneeling at her feet.
"You're weird," Santana said, before she began wrenching on one of the lug nuts. It came off surprisingly easily and she paused to look up before moving on to the next one. "So, how old are you?"
"Twenty-one," Quinn told her with a waggle of her brows.
"Me too!" Santana exclaimed, sounding excited about the fact. "We should go out sometime." She didn't mean the statement in the way it sounded – although she would have loved that even more – and soon she was trying to correct herself. "I just meant like going out for drinks…or whatever. Not like going out together and being on like a date or anything."
"Suuure," Quinn smirked, understanding what she meant but definitely knowing what she wanted.
It was Santana who was blushing now and she continued with her work to distract from it. "Shut…up!" she grunted as she reefed on the tire iron. "Shit, this is hard…"
Quinn giggled and crossed her arms over her chest as she watched the brunette. "Better try harder."
And try harder she did, so much so that all of the grunting and moaning that she was doing was becoming a problem for Quinn. And it only got worse when Santana stopped to rest after grappling with a particularly difficult lug nut. She was panting with her sweat slicked face turned down and it gave Quinn the perfect opportunity to fantasize about how nice it would be to listen to her pant in bed.
"Is there a bathroom somewhere?" Quinn suddenly blurted out and stood up from the car, waiting expectantly.
"Yeah…" Santana breathed heavily and pointed limply to a door across the garage. "Over…there."
~S~Q~S~Q~S~Q~S~Q~
"What is my life right now?" Quinn asked herself in disbelief as she looked into the mirror of the grubby bathroom. She didn't know why she was expecting anything different, but for some reason the filth and sweltering temperatures that she couldn't escape were annoying her to no end.
Thankfully though, she was able to escape from the most bothersome variable – Santana. But that didn't mean that the she could so easily get rid of the sweat at the back of her neck and the increased chafe of the thong that Santana was making her so aware of.
Not knowing what else to do, Quinn pulled her cell phone from her purse because she wasn't going to contaminate herself by touching anything else in the space. It seemed like a good diversion at first, but when the opening screen showed three missed calls from her boss she retired it to her purse again. "What to do, what to do," she muttered, fussing with her hair until a better, more outrageous idea suddenly came to mind.
Santana hadn't made her attraction a secret and she didn't seem like the type of girl who would be turned off by a bit of naughty teasing. So, after smoothing the tight fabric of her skirt up her thighs, Quinn slid her thong down her legs and shoved it into her pocket with a devilish smile.
~S~Q~S~Q~S~Q~S~Q~
"Hey! You know you're due for an oil change, right?" Santana called as the blonde reemerged.
It was safe to say that she was stalling. Sure, she had successfully gotten the tire off by herself but beyond that she had no clue as to what she was supposed to be doing. She only had a part-time job in her uncle's normally deserted garage because she was good with the fine details, like pin striping and airbrushing, and it always seemed to turn on the ladies. But it wasn't every day – actually it was more like never – that a damsel in distress wearing a short skirt showed up in such sleazy neighborhood and there was no way she could pass up that opportunity. If that meant she had to smear herself with some grease and pretend to know a few things about the guts of cars then that was fine with her.
It was going to pose problems sooner or later, but for the moment Santana was only worried about coming up with ways to keep the blonde around long enough to get her number. That was why she had left the flat tire and fumbled through jacking up the car after running to ask her cousin, Ricky, for direction. Realistically, at the rate she was going she probably wouldn't be getting anything if she didn't figure out how to replace a tire or change oil or just generally finish a task.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Quinn questioned as she came back and leaned against her car again
"It means you need new oil, ya ditz! What else would it mean?"
Throwing her hands in the air, Quinn tried to act like she was still annoyed by the insult but really all she could think about were the nerves and adrenaline tickling at her stomach. "Well, sorry that I'm not an expert like you with your silly little jumpsuit!"
"Oh, so now you 'bout to insult my swag?" Santana asked with an exaggerated bob of her head. She took a step forward, bringing herself face to face with Quinn so that she could tug at the lapel of her blazer. "Well, I've got a question for you, why are you dressed like a damn ship captain? You look like you're going sailing."
"They're called work clothes," Quinn said after swallowing the urge to squeak because of the close proximity. "You know, some of us normal people wear decent clothing when we go to work…unlike you!"
Santana looked between them and gave the blonde's body another once over, stopping shamelessly to admire the areas that she especially favored. "I'll admit that you look better, but at least I'm comfortable."
"At least I have a sense of style!" Quinn shot back, pulling the two sides of her blazer together to hide herself more thoroughly. Secretly, she loved how close they had gotten and she would have loved it even more if Santana had tugged on her collar to bring her in for a kiss instead of teasing her.
"I didn't know nautical nonsense was a style…"
"Will you just get on the floor and take care of me?" Quinn shouted only to realize that she had made a major Freudian slip. "The car! Take care of the car!"
Santana smiled wickedly and stepped back in surrender. "Did I mention that I like you, Quinn?"
"Please!" Quinn pleaded. "Just please, please fix it. I'm so late for work, even though I'm probably going to get fired as it is!" It was the truth, but truthfully Quinn had already decided that she wasn't going back to work any time soon.
"Fine, I'll see what I can do…" A few seconds later, Santana found herself laying flat on the cement floor underneath the car while wondering how she was going to get out of the mess she had created. Fuck, why did it have to be a hot chick? I can't even think!
"Everything alright under there?"
"Um, yeah," she answered as she peered sideways to ogle Quinn's matching navy pumps and what she could see of her toned calves. "Just um…loosening some bolts." Picking up the wrench she had brought down with her, she knocked it against some metal part that she didn't know the name of and pretended to actually be doing something productive.
"Do you have any idea of how long this is going to take?" Before Santana could answer, Madonna's Papa Don't Preachbegan blaring from a cell phone, followed by the request of, "Sorry, San, hold on just a second."
She just called me San! She squealed in her head, clutching the wrench to her chest and squeezing tightly. Then, realizing what she was doing she tossed it to her side with a scowl. God, I'm such a girl sometimes.
"Hello? I know, I know! I'm soo sorry! But I can expl –"
By the apology and the tone of voice, Santana could tell that Quinn was getting in trouble and it actually made her feel bad for stringing her along with the promise of fixing her car. So, being the softie that she was on the inside, she began shimmying out from underneath the car only to stop when the toe of Quinn's shoe nearly grazed the top of her head.
"Sorry!" Quinn mouthed down to the brunette after almost kicking her as she paced beside the car, before going back to groveling. "I know! I know I completely missed my first case but if you just let me explain then everything would make sense. I –"
Santana lied back down and relaxed, clasping her hands over her stomach. There wasn't anything she could do while Quinn was on the phone anyway. But she could enjoy the very revealing view for the time being.
She walks left, turn head left. Turn head back before she notices. She walks right, turn head right. Turn head back before she notices. Repeat…repeat…rep – holy fuck, no panties!
"Oww!"
"Oh my gosh, are you alright?" Quinn was suddenly asking with concern. She knelt down immediately to inspect whatever injury Santana had received, snapping her phone closed and forgetting all about the call she had been taking. "What happened?"
"I sat up too fast," Santana groaned while rubbing her forehead. "I hit my head on the mirror." She was dazed, but it didn't have much to do with the concussion she had nearly given herself.
Quinn smiled, resisted the urge to laugh and then held out her hands.
"I'll get your hands dirty," Santana warned as she held her hands above the blonde's.
"Just get up," Quinn urged and then brought their hands together on her own before pulling them to their feet. Once they were both standing Quinn held fast to Santana and sighed deeply; the day had gone in no way according to plan and it was time to embrace that. "Soo…I just got fired."
"Sorry," Santana said sheepishly, preparing to confess that she had no idea what she was doing.
"It's not your fault…"
"Well, I –" Lips were suddenly being pressed against Santana's, not too forcefully but not too gently either. It ended just as quickly as it had happened and the next thing she knew she was breathing heavily and staring into mischievous hazel eyes.
"Tag," Quinn whispered. She slipped her hand into her blazer pocket and then dipped it into the pocket of Santana's jumpsuit. "You're it."
After delivering the cryptic message, Quinn sauntered off toward the bathroom again and left Santana to grin to herself. Like an excited kid, she waited until Quinn was just out of sight before shoving her hand into her pocket and pulling out whatever had been tucked there. "Fuck yes," she whispered as her fingertips came in contact with lacy, string-like material. In her hand, she held a blue lace thong that perfectly matched everything else Quinn was wearing. Then with a quick glance around the garage she raised her fist to her face, inhaling an intoxicating scent through her mouth and nose before chasing after her very willing prey.
~S~Q~S~Q~S~Q~S~Q~
After just opening the door to the bathroom it became painfully apparent to Santana that Quinn was not her prey, but that she was hers instead. There were fingernails digging into the side of her neck and she had no other choice but to put her hands around Quinn's waist to keep her from climbing her body.
"I just gave you my wet panties," Quinn rasped out between the kisses she was marking Santana's neck with. "And it took you this long," she paused to bite the underside of her chin, "to get in here?"
"I'm sorry?" Santana said with her head craned to the side and her back and palms flat against the door. This wasn't what usually happened in these situations for her. She was usually the one taking what she wanted.
"Be quiet and look at me," Quinn demanded, taking the top of Santana's ponytail and pulling it even tauter. She held their faces together and touched the tips of their noses, being sure to keep their lips just breaths apart. "I've noticed you like to talk a lot and then not deliver…" Santana tried not to react to the realization that she had been found out and focused like she had been told to do. "So now I want you to put your mouth to use doing something that I'm assuming you actually know how to do…"
Suddenly, Santana was released from the door and she stood dumbfounded as Quinn stepped away to peel her skirt up. Then the blonde stood on her tiptoes and pushed herself onto the sink, spreading her legs in the process.
"Well…" She was goading, waving a hand toward her parted thighs and everything else that was now on full display. "Get to work," she said, but then raised her hand and gave a sly, wicked smile. "But wash your hands first…you're filthy."
Something about the way the word had been said didn't make Santana think of the actual filth that covered her skin. "Don't worry," she said as she knelt down and put her hands behind her back. "I don't need my hands for this." Starting at Quinn's inner knee, she began teasing with gentle nibbles of her lips and teeth and then worked up to wet, openmouthed kisses as she moved further. She left pinkish love bites as evidence of where she had already been and Quinn arched away from the sink, showing that she could feel where she had been as well.
With her nose, Santana nudged the blonde's thighs further apart and continued to kiss and nuzzle until her heavy breathing melted into a moan. She used her tongue to push into Quinn's core, burying herself in it and letting the wetness coat her lips and run down her chin.
"Fuck!" The single, whispered word was said high in Quinn's throat as if she was surprised, as if she hadn't been expecting such enthusiasm. Looking up through her lashes to make eye contact, Santana gave as much of a smile as she could with her tongue extended and licking upward.
The back of Quinn's head hit the mirror when Santana's tongue smoothed over her clit and her legs twitched, making one of her shoes slip from her foot and onto the floor. "God…"
Santana made a noise of amusement without removing her mouth, something between another moan and a knowing laugh. She didn't know how to change tires and oil, but she definitely knew how to go down on girls and she knew how to do it well. Pursing her lips a little, she sucked softly and teasingly on Quinn's clit until there were fingernails digging into her scalp and a foot kicking at her shoulder blade.
If Quinn had been hot in the small breezeless room before, she was positively on fire now. With shaky hands she attempted to shed her blazer, having to pause multiple times to grind her hips as she clutched at Santana's hair, willing her to continue. Once the blazer was carelessly tossed to the floor, Quinn fumbled her hands from the back of Santana's neck to the front where the zipper of her jumpsuit was already coming undone.
"Wash…wash your hands," she stammered out, pushing herself off the sink and almost knocking Santana backwards. "I want your fingers."
"'Kay," Santana answered, standing up and sounding just as breathless. As they traded places, she licked at the wet coating on her lips and watched how the light caught it in the mirror. The soap in the wall dispenser couldn't come out fast enough as she hit it with her palm and she wasn't the only one to take notice of that.
"Hurry…" Quinn whispered, her voice insistent as she said the words into Santana's ear and pushed herself against her back. Again her hands were at Santana's neck, managing to successfully open the zipper.
Santana was practically growling as she tried to scrub the grease from her skin, frantically splashing water all over the floor and herself in the process. "I'm trying, it's not coming off!"
"Not fast enough…"
"Sorry, I'm sss – ah…fuck, that hurts so good," she panted as Quinn bit down on her neck, leaving a mark that she could instantly see in the mirror.
Raking her nails from just under Santana's ear down to her collarbone, Quinn hissed, "It's going to hurt worse if you don't stop fucking around." She proved her point by moving aside the strap of Santana's white tank top and sinking her teeth in again.
"Ow!" Santana wailed, thrashing her head away. Forgetting about the water, she turned around and pushed Quinn up against the door that she had had her own back against just minutes ago. "You didn't look this crazy earlier," she whispered, licking along Quinn's jaw line.
"Must be the heat…"
Santana said nothing, but instead placed a hand behind one of Quinn's knees, pulling it up over her hip. "Are you ready for me?" she asked, her other hand working open the buttons of Quinn's shirt until it hung open and she was able to kiss the skin not concealed by bra.
"Come on," Quinn whined, arching her back against the door.
With a smile, Santana slipped her hand down the front of Quinn's stomach, past the hem of her skirt and up into her. She heard her breathing catch and stilled, slowly pushing and circling with the fingertips of her middle and ring fingers. "Do I get to keep your panties?" She felt Quinn's response in the way her muscles clenched around her fingers, but she couldn't help making her squirm.
"Santana…"
"Tell me, I want something to remember you by when you're gone…"
Using her own hand, Quinn tried forcing Santana's to move. "They're yours, do whatever you want, just –"
In one not so smooth movement, Santana pulled away, brought Quinn's other leg up around her waist and then replaced her hand to where it had been, using her body for further leverage for her thrusts. "Put your arms around my shoulders or I'm gonna drop you," she said, pushing her chest into Quinn's to help hold her against the door.
The blonde was writhing, finding a rhythm that matched Santana's. "I don't care if you fuck me on the floor, just do it."
Santana grunted in agreement, just barely able to manipulate her fingers inside Quinn while trying to keep her balance. For the second time she found herself having to use her mouth to get where she wanted, and her teeth were the tool that allowed her to move Quinn's bra aside and suck at her nipples.
"Damn…" Quinn breathed out, brushing the soft, shaved hair at the side of Santana's head with her lips and nose.
"Shh, quiet," Santana gritted out. Although with the way she was slamming Quinn against the door so hard that she could hear the doorknob jiggling, it was likely that the bums across the street could hear what was going on in the bathroom.
Quinn was too far gone to think about anything aside from how close she was to coming. The muscles in her thighs were beginning to tremor of their own volition, opening her further and allowing Santana's palm to cup and rub over her clit. And the fingers holding her up and roughly digging into her skin didn't even feel painful anymore, everything just felt charged and hot.
Santana was breathing so hard that Quinn would have been concerned if she had even noticed. Her hand was starting to slip from the back of Quinn's leg from the sweat and there was so much collecting on her forehead that it was starting to drip off the tip of her nose. "Fuck, baby…come," she panted.
Something about hearing Santana swear as she called her "baby" set Quinn off and she buried her face in dark hair, bucking her hips and biting into Santana's ear as she came.
Not long after withdrawing, Santana sunk down to her knees and began licking Quinn's inner thighs clean along with her own fingers. "It's too fucking hot in here," she said, still sounding winded as she laid her cheek on Quinn's lower stomach.
"I know, mmm," Quinn moaned as Santana's lips found a sensitive spot on her thigh. She ran her fingers through Santana's hair, feeling them come away with dampness. "You're sweating so much," she laughed.
"Really fucking romantic…"
"I know…I can't believe we did this…"
Santana laughed as well and ran her palms up and down Quinn's legs. "Me either."
~S~Q~S~Q~S~Q~S~Q~
"So, I don't normally do that…"
After lowering a bottle of Coke from her lips, Quinn twisted the cap back on and passed it to Santana. "Ha…yeah, I don't normally do that either," she said, a sort of goofy grin on her face as they sat together on a workbench. She was still reminiscing about their short stint in the bathroom; she was sure she was equal parts dehydrated and sex dazed.
"I didn't mean that," Santana laughed under her breath and then took a sip of the pop. With one hand she waved in the direction of Ricky, who was finishing putting a new tire on the blonde's car. "I meant that."
"Oh, right," Quinn caught on slowly. If it would have been anyone else she would have been pissed, but she had gotten lost in the ghetto, been fired from her job and had sex with a hot, perfect stranger in a bathroom all in the span of a few hours; she had reached her limit of things to care about in a day. "Well, at least you're good at something," she shrugged.
Santana opened her mouth in mock shock and began to laugh again. "That was rude!"
"What did you want me to say?" Quinn asked, prying away the Coke, playfully jerking at it until Santana let go. "You must just hang around here to look sexy, right?"
"No!" Santana said incredulously, even though she was holding back giggles. She usually didn't just hang around and she never had sex with girls on the job, but she would have been lying if she said she had ever had a better day at work. It was just lucky that her uncle wasn't around that afternoon. "Normally, I do the painting. Pin striping, airbrushing…that kind of thing."
"I see," Quinn said slowly, setting the bottle aside to look directly at the brunette. "So there's a little more to you than what meets the eye, huh?"
Santana shied away from the eye contact. She was close to blushing, but she wasn't quite sure why. "I like to think so…I take it the same is true for you? You're definitely feistier than you first seem."
"Take me out tonight."
"Huh?" Santana looked up quickly, dropping the sharp metal shaving that she was rolling between her fingertips onto the floor.
"Take me out tonight," Quinn repeated, only sounding more confident as she said it for a second time. It was a bold move, but she was basically alone in the city and Santana was the most attractive girl she had yet to meet, in every sense of the word. And from past experience it seemed that Santana could appreciate a bold move when she encountered one. "You can learn all about me."
The brunette huffed a laugh and then shook her head, lowering it back down. "No way, I fixed your car and your attitude. Why should I take you out tonight too?" A date or anything even remotely close to that was what she had wanted along, but she had never expected it to actually happen. She and Quinn were entirely different types of people.
"Actually, your cousin is fixing my car if I'm not mistaken," Quinn pointed out. Teasingly, she walked her fingers down Santana's arm before snatching up her hand. "Come on," she tried to persuade. "I got fired before I even got to begin my first day of work," she moved her lips to Santana's ear to finish quietly, "I let you fuck me in a bathroom and I'm not as big of a bitch as I pretend to be, so please, take me out tonight…I need some cheering up."
Santana was grinning as the blonde whispered to her, but she was eyeing Ricky to make sure that he witnessed none of their little flirt fest. "Fine, I guess I could do that…"