The Wedding

Santana never believed in that "all you need is love" bullshit. She is pretty sure that kind of sentence was invented by some misogynistic asshole back in the days when women's life consisted into being confined at home.

Fucking Valentine's day.

Brittany is sitting a few rows in front of her with Sam, giggling and stuff. She might have purposely complained out loud-just for the fun of it- about being annoyed to be stuck to sit next to Quinn, but, truth is, she's seriously happy to have her clearly-mentally-insane friend next to her.

It might help that Quinn seems to be suddenly very touchy feely. Santana is blaming it on a possible change of her medication or the fact that she might not even be taking any. She likes it though, the way Quinn's lips gets close to her ear to make a snarky comment about Puck's new haircut. She's not sure if it's the bitchy remark or the hot breath brushing against the shell of her ear, maybe it's the fact that idiots keep on opening the back door of the church bringing a breeze of cold air with them to announce their arrival, but something makes her shiver.

She rolls her eyes.

Fucking wedding ceremony.

"I don't even know why weddings are still a thing. We're in a post-bra-burning era, those liberated women should have gotten completely rid of that moronic patriarchal celebration along with their lingerie."

"I hear you on this. Looking at my mother, I'd say that this form of "engagement" should be renamed "encagement". "

Santana smirks, she actually smirks. She almost forgot her lips could turn upwards since she learned Brittany was dating Jaws.

"Not so bad Quinn. "

A small chuckle escapes from between the blonde's pulpy lips. Her pale white hand wraps around Santana's wrist in a gesture that marks her amusement but lingers there a bit longer than necessary. The brunette's eyes squint as she questions herself about the oddity of it all. She shakes her head and stares forward

There's Rachel trying to put to sleep some poor old man with one of her boring monologues. Oh! Actually, the old pervert might be getting something of it, it's the second time she catches him peeking not-so-subtly into her décolleté. When the fuck did Berry get so hot anyways? Sometimes she walks around their apartments with nothing but her bra and panties- mostly when she's spending time with that boy toy of hers-and Santana has to refrain from checking her out. The high school version of her would probably kill her if she knew.

"Why is it taking so long!" Quinn huffs.

"We're talking about Miss Pillsbury, she's probably somewhere having some panic attack of some sort."

It's Quinn's turn to roll her eyes.

"I wouldn't even be surprised if it were true. "

They exchange a look and Santana gets caught for a second in the blonde's hazel stare. Quinn's eyes are so damn beautiful. She always thought her friend was annoyingly over-pretty. She feels a blush creeping up her cheeks and looks away quickly, gritting her teeth. She should have taken that offer from that redhead at that gay bar the other night. If she had gone home with her maybe her ovaries wouldn't be screaming for sex today.

She doesn't even remember when exactly was the last time she had sex. There was that one drunken hook up that occurred right after moving to New York. It had ended up so horribly-her sobbing in the middle of the sexual act about how Brittany was so much better than that girl she was with...yeah, let's just say it wasn't her proudest moment.

She wishes it was as easy for her to move on. She wishes she was more open to love, like Brittany. She just hates when people get too close. It scares her. It feels like they are trying to choke her with their affection or something. It's unbearable. She really doesn't get how Brittany could just so easily jump into Sam's arms. Oh well, whatever...

She's about to sigh in frustration when the church's back door open again and Sue Sylvester makes a very dramatic entrance in a beautiful wedding gown.

What even...

The woman swirls and twirls awkwardly before walking up to the altar.

"What is going on?" Quinn whispers into her ear.

There's a feeling of dread in her stomach. She clears her throat.

"No, idea...but it doesn't look good. "

Coach Sylvester murmurs something to her colleague. His face falls. There's a complete shift of atmosphere, a heavy cloak seem to suddenly drape the room. People are exchanging looks, whispering to each other. Mr. Schuester seems horrified, petrified, paralyzed.

It's Sue that ends up breaking the news.

The bride has ran away.

A huge silence fills the church. Santana feels Quinn's hand suddenly gripping hers. She turns around to meet her friend's eyes. They are probably wearing the same expression of shock.

This weekend was turning out to be much more eventful than she first thought it would be.