This piece of fanfic was written after a skype party with the lovely people of faberrycon inspired me. Credit for the origin of Quinn's questionable jacket in the wedding of 4x14 goes to them. :)
Enjoy!
She's trying to somehow close the straps of her heels, holding her clutch captive with her teeth and cursing that she's late to this stupid occasion, when her mother's voice rings through the hall. „Quinnie!" Her voice is followed by her feet pattering down the wooden staircase.
"What, mum?" she tries to say, but it comes out completely unintelligible around the edges of her purse.
"Look what I found," her mum says, sounding as delighted as when she got the first alimony payment from Russel, but Quinn doesn't really want to look. She wants her shoes to fit, so she can drive to the stupid wedding for which she's already going to be late and for which she has no real idea why she even bothered coming back for. It's not like Mr. Schuester ever did so much for her that she feels unwavering gratefulness, she's not Finn, her life has a lot of meaning without Mr. Schue and on top of that Quinn still hasn't forgotten how he treated her during her skank phase.
Finally the she's finished with her shoes and stands up straight again, looking at her mother to find out what she has apparently found. In her mother's arms she sees a sparkling explosion of colour.
"Since you forgot your cardigan for your dress at Yale, I went through my closet and I found this, it would go wonderfully with your dress Quinnie."
"Mum, I don't need a jacket, I'll be in the car the whole time and then I'll be inside, either in the church or in the hotel," she says, eying the garish thing her mother is holding out warily. The fabric looks scratchy and all the glittering color flecks will look horrible with her pink dress, maybe sophomore Rachel Berry would have worn it, but even that is a risky assumption.
"Quinnie, you know how easily you get a cold since your ac-," her mother interrupts her sentence, biting her tongue, knowing how much Quinn hates to be reminded of her accident. "since last year. You need to have something to cover your shoulders."
"Fine." Quinn relents, grabbing the ugly thing and throwing it on. What does it matter how she looks like anyway at this wedding? So she kisses her mother goodbye and hurries out to her car.
At the parking lot outside the church she spots Mercedes. Quinn is about to walk over to her to say hello and have someone to walk into and sit next to during the ceremony when Mercedes bends down next to car, before a disheveled Kurt and Blaine emerge, making Quinn change her mind. Kurt and Blaine is another exes drama she has no intention of getting caught up in. Quinn is determined to have as good a time she can have on this wedding, despite all the overdramatical features she's sure it'll have, which is her reason to sit down next to Santana upon spotting her sitting in one of the middle rows. Next to the unidentified dead animal around Santana's shoulders her abomination of a jacket will draw less looks, plus Santana's live comment on the ceremony is entertaining, that much Quinn knows for sure.
Just then Brittany makes her way down the aisle with Sam on her arm. They take their seats a few rows in front of them and when they turn to take of their coats, there are awkward glance and a hesitant wave and Quinn wonders if Mercedes wouldn't have been the better choice after all.
Rachel walks into the church as one of the last people, while Santana is bitching about Sam's haircut, but Quinn tunes her out, her eyes trained on Rachel, who, to her disappointment doesn't even look her way as she hurriedly sits down next to Kurt. One of the few things she had been looking forward to about this wedding was seeing Rachel again and talking to her face to face instead of the infrequent texts every now and then.
She consoles herself with the thought that there will be plenty of time to spend with Rachel at the reception. The wedding itself proves to be pretty entertaining when the bride doesn't show up, Ms Sylvester does and Mr Schuester has been singing in front of the altar for nothing. To sum it up in Santana's words. "He could've still married Finn, he was right there and God knows Mr. Schue has been fawning over dough-boy all of last year."
The logic behind the decision is beyond Quinn's understanding but the reception is still held. She spots Rachel across the room but before Quinn can make her way over to the girl she is caught in a conversation by Mike. By the time she can steal herself away, has disappeared to someplace else. Quinn's eye search the room to find her friend, finding her at her table and starts to make her way toward the girl. She's halfway over when Mercedes steps into her path, hugging her tightly and starting to talk to her about LA. The process repeats itself two times more and the idea to look for Quinn doesn't seem to cross Rachel's mind at all. In the end Quinn finds herself next to Santana again at the bar, ordering wine with their fake IDs. The toast to themselves being awesome and when Quinn knocks back her first glass of wine in two gulps, she decides to take what she has. "You're killing it in that dress, Rosario." she tells Santana. Santana eyes her suspiciously, waiting for a jab to follow, but Quinn just smiles, letting her glance dip to Santana's cleavage for a second and smiles. If nothing else she's going to enjoy this evening with Santana, maybe test the waters she's spend years staring at, too afraid to even dip her toes in.
She's had a few glasses of wine, maybe three, but she still has her senses together enough to notice the longing way Santana stares at Brittany and Sam, every five minutes before she takes a generous sip of her wine. Whether Sam's dancing has improved on his own or because he's been dating Brittany, Quinn doesn't know, but she has to say they move well together on the dance floor and even she can tell they're having a good time. To distract her friend she makes another quip about one of the reception guests, probably one of Miss Pillsbury's guests as Mr Schuester doesn't seem to have any friends older than nineteen and his parents, but Santana's reply is half-hearted this time.
Quinn is about to threaten to slap her again, if Santana doesn't turn off her blues when her eyes flit to the side of the stage. There's Rachel, head bent over some sheet music, getting ready to sing and there's that little twinge in her heart again. She has missed all about Rachel, whenever she let herself think of her, but Rachel's voice was the first thing about the girl that drew her in and to this day Quinn can't escape the spell.
For a moment she toys with the idea of leaving Santana at the bar and walking over, to wish Rachel luck for her performance, to say anything to her at all, or maybe just to hug her like she did when they met up in New York. If she closes her eyes Quinn can still feel the way having Rachel pressed close to her felt when they parted at the station. It is a fond memory, especially in her buzzed state.
Until, when she opens her eyes, Finn sidles up next to Rachel, his dopey grin turned on full force and she sees Rachel looking up, smiling at him. It's not the same lovesick look she wore all through senior year but it's still enough to make Quinn's guts twist. She tries to drown the sick feeling in more wine, finishing her fourth glass off as they take the stage and the band starts the next song. Predictably it's a ballad, because what else does Finchel sing?
All over the dance floor the couples pull closer together to sway on their spot and Quinn doesn't even need to look to know where Santana's eyes are.
"Dance with me." She says, a demand not a question. Santana turns to her sharply, eying first Quinn's face and then her outstretched hand sceptically for a split second, before she takes it, letting herself be let on the dance floor by Quinn. By now, Quinn knows Santana well enough to be sure they have the same sentiment – 'screw this whole evening'.
For a moment Quinn is hesitant where to place her hands, but Santana lays her arms around her shoulders without any sign of restraint, she puts her hands on Santana's back and simply goes with it. Actually it's really easy to turn in slow circles holding Santana close. "I've never slow danced with a girl before," she tells Santana with a pensive smile. Her friend draws back a little, just enough to look at her face, gauging how she was supposed to take her sentence.
"I like it," Quinn admits, a little surprised by herself that it really just feels good dancing with Santana and not weird at all like she expected. Santana gives her a smile in return, the first genuine one of this whole wedding before she pulls her close again.
Briefly Quinn catches a glimpse of Rachel's face up on the stage as she sings the lyrics with all the emotions the performance requires. Quinn doesn't know for whom Rachel is really singing anymore but she knows it's not for her, probably never for her, so she closes her eyes and pushes the thought away.
Santana rests her head on her shoulder, her soft hair spilling down over Quinn's shoulder and Quinn mirrors the action, pulling Santana a littler closer. Santana's body is familiar to her after years of cheerio's training, yet holding her like this is also new and in exciting, even more so when she feels a hand caressing her neck lazily. In response Quinn dares to drop her hands lower, lingering just above the curve of Santana's butt.
She knows the evening has building up to this, the questions now is only whether she is brave enough to go further or if she chickens out once again. A part of Quinn is still scared of the consequences she'll have to face if she acts on the curiosity of her desires. The other part knows, that Santana is probably the best and the safest option she has, plus the fact that Quinn has found her attractive since they were sixteen doesn't hurt either. In the end the light heady feeling of the alcohol in her blood is the thing that lets her whisper the words into Santana's ear.
"Do you wanna get out of here?"
She receives a soft kiss to her neck, as Santana breathes a low "Yes," into her ear.
Quinn wastes no time, grabbing Santana's hand and pulling her out of the room to the lift. They are alone in the lobby, all other hotel guests either in their rooms already or still part of the wedding party they left behind. As soon as the lift doors close Santana is right in front of her, placing a hand on her cheek and drawing her closer. Her is gaze determined, almost challenging Quinn to bail and call it off, but Quinn is nothing if not stubborn. Once she has made up her mind about something she will go through with it, so she meets Santana's mouth halfway. To say she felt an electric spark would be an exaggeration, still Quinn's stomach does a little flip when she feels Santana's soft lips upon her own, as they press against her mouth deliciously. It's different from the kisses she shared so far, most of all because there is no five o' clock shadow scratching her skin, but it's very enjoyable.
Santana, never being one for coy restraint, opens her mouth, inviting Quinn in and she doesn't even think before she takes her up on it. This time she really feels a kind of spark, the one that shoots hot straight through her. Up to now her body never reacted like this from just a kiss and it's exhilarating.
The lift lurches to a stop on their floor and Quinn, brimming with giddy excitement pulls Santana with her into the hallway. Her heel catches on the carpet and she stumbles, almost crashing into a table with flowers. Quinn is barely able to catch herself with one hand on the wall while Santana, still hanging onto her hand crashes into her back. Her arms snake around Quinn's belly as her lips press hot kisses onto Quinn's neck in a way which makes her knees go weak.
"Stop that until we get into my room." Quinn's protest is as weak as her attempt to disengage Santana's hold around her middle. Their finger's entwine instead as they try to walk forward still pressed together back to front, an endeavor hampered by the alcohol and they just stumble from one wall to the other to burst into a fit of giggles. "Come on," Quinn laughs, pulling or letting herself be pulled by Santana, she's not quite sure which happens, as they stumble together to door of her hotel room.
Inside Quinn has barely time to close the door, before Santana tears the ugly jacket her mother insisted she's take of her shoulders. "I've wanted to do that all night," Santana husks, before she kisses Quinn hard. Trying to find, and more importantly, open the buttons on the back of Santana's dress proves difficult while hot kisses are trailing down her cheek and her neck and a skilled hand is caressing her breasts. After her fifth failed attempt to undress Santana, the girl laughs softly, stepping back and undoing the dress herself.
Quinn feels a little embarrassed, however it vanishes quickly when Santana stands before her in nothing but her underwear, beckoning her towards her gorgeous body with one finger, waiting for Quinn to continue. She is able to snap open Santana's bra on the second try, a fact she's a little bit proud of. Santana's breast beautiful and when Quinn cups them both, her hands tremble slightly with nerves and excitement, but then Santana hums, pulling down the zipper of her dress and making quick work of her bra too, the nerves are giving way to desire completely.
She's pushed down onto the bed in between two kisses, all the while her hands still on Santana's chest. Santana bites her lip, more gently than Quinn would have expected her to be, nibbling and licking a little trail down her neck, her collarbone before the lips close around one of her nipples and Quinn finds herself unable to do anything but moan.
"You know you're allowed to participate," Santana teases her before she switches her mouth to Quinn's other breast. A little sheepishly Quinn starts to experimentally caress the side of Santana's boob, pinch her nipple, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Santana.
Hands are stroking her sides, down her thighs and up again, as they come to rest on her panties. She answers the unspoken question by lifting her hips and Santana pulls the last piece of clothing from her body, then she sheds her own thong. She stares at a naked Santana in awe, her emotions clearly visible on her face judging by the smug smirk Santana sports, which only makes her even sexier to Quinn.
She wants to touch her, now.
She pulls Santana down on top of her again and lets her fingers find a way between those smooth legs. It's a nice stroke for her ego to find Santana as wet she feels herself, as she starts rubbing slow circles around her clit. Santana moans, her breath hot between Quinn's breasts and mumbles something. "Don't start without me," may have been the words. However Quinn could care less about Santana's words when the next thing she feels are Santana's long, slender fingers entering her.
From there it's almost awfully quick, Santana knows what buttons to push for Quinn's body to react, she's so caught up in just feeling it, that she forgets to do something for Santana too. Only when Santana presses her hips down, trying to get some sort of friction, she remembers to start moving inside her again. Quinn's body is getting tenser, she can feel the build-up of something and then Santana curls her fingers the tension breaks and Quinn shudders while Santana keeps riding her hand a few moments longer to get her own release.
Feeling boneless in an entirely good way Quinn just falls back down onto the pillows, pulling the covers up as the warmth of Santana's body disappears. Whether she's doing it on purpose, flaunting, or if she just doesn't care, Santana gets up, walking over to the fridge giving Quinn a good view of her back. Quinn drinks in the sight, a lazy, satisfied smile on her face, even more so when Santana turns around, tossing her a water bottle before she walks back to the bed.
Santana lays down on the other side, her feet up on the pillow next to Quinn, simply looking at her, in a way that makes Quinn uneasy, now that the immediate bliss of her orgasm has worn off. She takes a drink, to buy time, trying to figure out what to do now. Is there an etiquette to be followed? Should she just up and leave like Puck did? Is she really gay, now that she had sex with Santana and enjoyed it?
"You've got some awesome sex hair." Santana's voice, still sultry and raw sexuality, rips into Quinn's thoughts. On a whim she sprouts the first thing that comes into her mind. "So that's why college girls experiment."
Santana laughs. "And thank God they do." Which Quinn takes to mean that she hasn't sucked completely in bed. The confession has passed her lips before she can even consider stopping it. "You know it was fun. And I've always wondered what it would be like to be with a woman." However the need to put up some line of defense is still there, especially now, when she's getting sober again and lying naked and vulnerable in a bed. "But, uh, I don't know. I think for me it was more of a one-time thing."
To her relief Santana is pretty nonchalant about it all. "Look, you don't have to worry. I'm not gonna show up at your house with a U-hall." she states and the both grin at the mental image, although Quinn idly wonders just how many of those experimenting, questioning college girls Santana has had since Brittany, that she knows exactly how to put them at ease.
"So, what happens next?" she asks, reaching for the water again.
"Well, you could walk out first," Santana starts, giving Quinn the free pass to bolt. Maybe, Quinn ponders, Santana extends her the offer, because she remembers how freaked out she was after her first time with a girl and Quinn appreciates the gesture, but now that it's there she doesn't feel the need to take it, knowing it was given to her is enough. So when she doesn't make a move, Santana ventures on. "Or, we could make this a two-time thing."
It's not what Quinn expected to hear, but at the same time it sounds like a good idea. Up to now she has enjoyed herself more in bed with Santana than anybody else and the thought of what Santana can do with her fingers has her aroused and tingling again. A smile spreads on her face as Quinn places the bottle back on the nightstand and crawls over to Santana.
"This time, I'm on top," she husks before she's pulled down into another kiss.
Santana is the one to walk out in the morning, when they realized they have been in Quinn's room all along and by now they have turned it into a three-time thing. Quinn has to admit that morning sex is way better way to become awake thank a shower and coffee.
Quinn, the sheets still wrapped around her, walks Santana to the door. They don't kiss goodbye. Santana hugs her briefly. "See you." She whispers, mindful not to make too much noise in the hallway this early. "See you," Quinn replies equally quiet.
When she's left alone, she takes a long shower, thinking of her train tickets for New York and maybe, just maybe toying with the idea of a fourth time.