LbN: Quinntana Week 2014 submission. Xposted to my Tumblr. Prompt was "Quinntana Begins"
It was about two weeks after the infamous Hotel Incident (at least, infamous in their minds - no one else knew). Santana had just finished up the dishes and settled down on the couch with her favorite Stephen King novel when the doorbell rang. Her overactive imagination had already come up with the names and murder weapons of the three serial killers who were obviously at the door when her phone buzzed.
Q: It's me, bitch. Open the door.
Santana grinned and ran over, sliding the apartment door open.
"Surprise, S," Quinn said. "Have you had dinner yet?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Good. Let's go make this a three-time thing."
It was a month later, and Santana hadn't seen Quinn again since. They'd texted though. Usually, it was just a once a day thing to say hi and make sure neither of them was in need of bail money. But occasionally, they'd hold a multi-text conversation. So when Santana's phone buzzed as she wrote her English paper, she didn't find it strange that it was from Quinn.
Q: My roommate's leaving for Europe next Friday. Four-time thing? I'll show you around my school, too, if you want.
Santana bit her lip, trying not to give away her smile to Kurt and Rachel.
S: Sure. See you then – I'll bring booze.
Quinn had been down a few times to see the NY Trio, as she called them. But she and Santana hadn't had any more "alone time". She was starting to go a little crazy, and had wondered more than once if you could get a sex addiction specific to one person. She decided to never raise the subject with Santana, but that didn't mean she wasn't going in for another hit (she'd giggled to herself for a while after thinking up that pun).
"Q?"
"S," she said. "We've progressed to phone calls now."
"One day, I might even get you to buy me dinner."
"You and your suitcase of wonders come up this weekend, and I'll cook dinner for you."
"…be there at five on Friday."
"Looks like five's the lucky number this week."
Santana didn't call her "Tubbers" anymore. It had long since ceased to even frustrate Quinn. The blonde knew it had been a term of endearment more than anything else. She'd never asked Santana to stop, but Santana had. Now she just called her Q, Quinn, or sometimes, due to a memorable first experience with Absinthe, Green Fairy. She wasn't sure the younger woman even consciously realized that she'd stopped with the nickname from high school – but Quinn had noticed. Quinn had noticed, and it worried her.
"Six-time thing, Satan?" she offered over the phone, purposefully using the old nickname to see what reaction it garnered.
"You're on, Green Fairy," Santana said. "It's your turn to travel again, by the way."
Quinn started packing once she hung up the phone, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.
It had been a few months since their sixth time together. Neither girl's schedule was conducive to traveling at the moment. Quinn was in the middle of her sophomore research project, and Santana was working full time on top of a full time schedule at NYU. Both of them were going crazy, but it was Santana who broke first.
"I'm coming up there," she said over Skype. It was one in the morning and both of them had just gotten home. "Fuck the diner, I'll get someone to cover for me. I need – sex," she said, hoping Quinn hadn't noticed the hesitation.
Quinn, of course, had noticed. But she wasn't going to say anything if Santana wasn't. "Me too. Seven, and possibly eight-time thing, and we're not leaving the apartment all weekend."
"Sounds like a plan to me."
It was a rainy November afternoon when Quinn showed up to the apartment, sobbing.
"I… I'm sorry. I know – I should have called."
"Get in here, Q," Santana said, taking her by the hand and pulling her into the apartment. "What is it? What happened?"
"My dad was in a car wreck. He's fine, but…he drained my savings account to pay off his hospital bills."
"WHAT?" Santana bellowed. "He can't do that! It's illegal!"
Quinn gave a hollow laugh. "Well, it's not like I can afford a lawyer now, can I?"
Santana pulled her into a hug. "We'll figure something out, okay?" She felt Quinn nod, and was about to pull away when she felt the blonde's lips on her neck. "Q…."
"I know – we shouldn't. I'm upset, and you're pissed. But…I need this Santana. I need you."
Santana nodded, and led the way back to her room.
"You know something?"
"Hmmm?" Quinn asked, moving a little closer to Santana. They were both naked, after a night of marathon sex. The sun was just coming up, and Quinn was ignoring her rumbling stomach in favor of a few more minutes of rest with Santana.
"I think we should probably stop keeping count at this point."
Quinn couldn't help it – she laughed.