Title: Miss Independent

Pairing: Santana/Quinn

Summary: AU Santana is a bartender at a gay bar and Quinn comes in fairly often, orders the same thing, but something about her has Santana drawn to her, but she can't quite figure it out because Quinn doesn't give her the time of day.

Dedicated to Drew because he's awesome and knows how to keep me in check!

x.x.x.x.x

The club was blazing. Lights flickering so frequently that it could cause a seizure. The DJ working tonight was prone to those kinds of lighting and music that works with it, but the crowd loved it. Saturday night was Lesbians Night, now it didn't mean that men couldn't come in, but majority of the crowd will most likely be interested in vagina. Santana certainly didn't mind though—it was her favorite night, because she got hit on numerous amounts and got large tips, so it wasn't all bad.

She threw out beers in all directions, sliding them down the bar top, while shaking her hips slightly—she's Latina after all, so hip action was her specialty, plus it brought in the leering and lingering eyes that she wanted. A few of the girls, who were a little too butch for her liking eyed her up and down like she was a piece of meat and granted she wanted that, but for their money—nothing more. Then again, people would question her motives as being borderline prostitution, at least that's what Puckerman said, but since she doesn't sleep with any of them for the money, that method can be considered false.

Suddenly a girl pushes her way through them—definitely not butch at all. Hair that's cut shoulder length, heels, makeup; everything she likes and more. She slides her way on the stool, making sure her dress doesn't rise enough to give anyone a show. She's now caused heads to turn with the shine in her blonde hair and pale complexion visible. She looks independent and untamable—she clearly didn't give a fuck and would easily give a whirl of sarcasm at any passer who crossed her—at least that's how Santana saw it and she had to admit; she was attracted.

Santana made her way to the end of the bar and leaned over—the blonde could easily get a full view of Santana's cleavage, but she certainly didn't seem to even pay attention nor care. "Suffering Bastard to start," she told Santana, without a please or even an ounce of friendliness—straight to the point. Santana did all she could do and nod sheepishly and walk off to retrieve the drink.

Mixing it she watched from her end curiously as a girl came up and approached her with a beer in hand, trying her best to crack the blonde. She noticed the female smirk at the girl and respond, and it must have been sarcastic because the girl with the beer quickly walked away. Santana poured the drink in the glass and walked back to the beautiful blonde and placed it in front of her.

"Can I get you anything else?" Santana asked politely as the blonde took a sip of it. After swallowing the contents, she looked up at her and pointed to the drink.

"There's not enough liquor in this," she instructs to Santana, who just crossed her arms over the bar and leaned closer to the blonde.

"If I put anymore in there, you'll be drunk after the first one," she responds, before she shrugs.

"You don't know how much liquor I can handle," the blonde spats back, before Santana breaths out her laughter. She may be attracted to this sort of thing, but she couldn't seem to figure out why she would be. This girl is rude and she's just trying to help her so she's not taken advantage of.

"Oh I am so sorry Miss—," Santana stops, since she's never caught the smug blonde's name.

"Quinn Fabray," she huffs.

"Well Miss Fabray, I am actually helping you. See with your size and height ratio, you probably can't hold more liquor than I could and I for one, wouldn't even dare go through The Bastard Trilogy," Santana interjects, making Quinn smirk and sip it some more until the entire drink is gone. Santana's eyes widen as the entire glass is completely drained of its contents. Quinn places it back on the bar top and smiles devilishly.

"Dying Bastard next," she hisses and Santana took it almost seductively, but she didn't dare cross Quinn to find out otherwise. So she nodded with a shrug, and walked away with her empty glass, to mix the next one.

As she poured the ingredients into the mixer, Kurt, another bartender comes up to her and bumps her playfully. "Packed night with your fellow Lebenses," he comments, pouring a beer out of the keg and she nods distracted. "What's going on?" He adds, clearly concerned. She begins to shake the shaker and stares up at him, before pouring it in the tall glass.

"That girl over there," she points over to Quinn. "She's trying the Bastard Trilogy and seems to think that I suck at making drinks because apparently there wasn't enough liquor in her last one," she explains to him, making him smirk.

"She sounds like a snooty brat to me—certainly dresses like one. Don't worry about her, I'm sure her lady will be here soon," He responds placing the beer on the bar to the costumer in front of him.

"Yeah with that attitude, I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't have one," she grumbles loud enough for him to hear as she makes the glass all pretty.

"Oh please, that's what you're attracted to though. Remember Rachel? She was more dramatic than I am," he laughs. "Maybe this is sexual frustration for you, so if that is the case then go get her," he adds, before slapping her ass. She yelped—she always hated when he did that and if he wasn't gay, she would beat him up for it.

She walked back to Quinn and placed the drink on bar in front of her. Quinn glanced at it and grabbed it instantly. "Why are you here by yourself?" Santana asked curiously and rather blunt. Quinn placed the drink down and smirked—she knew the smug comment was to follow.

"Why are you so engrossed in my business?" She asked her, crossing her arms over the bar. Santana shook her and smirked, then leaned closer to her level. A few more inches and she'd be right at her lips and how Santana wished she could close that gap that seemed so large.

"You think you can be smug and sarcastic towards me, and I'll just walk away? Please, you'll have to try harder than that. I've been with girls like you in my life, more times than I can count. All you're doing is fueling the desires honey," she states loud enough for Quinn to hear. She noticed the gulp that was issued by Quinn and her smirk only widened as she pulled away from the blonde, and walked off, smiling even wider.

x.x.x.x.x

Friday night. Another busy one at that, but Santana never complained and why should she, she still got tipped well even though mostly gay men entered the establishment—Santana loved this night as much as Saturday because she got to make fun of Kurt when a hot guy would flirt with him. He never knew what to do with himself because he was terrible at being sexy, so just being able to see him trip over himself was well worth it.

She filled as many orders as possible, before she got bumped, knowing it was Kurt because it seemed to be his signature move when she was working. "Look who showed up," he tells her, pointing in the direction towards the end of the bar. Her eyes followed and landed on a blonde, who wore a tightly fitted skirt that rose just under her bust, with a white blouse. Needless to say it complimented every bit of her curves, but Santana recognized her instantly—it was Quinn and she seemed to be eyeing her.

Santana met her eyes from down at the other end of the bar and Quinn curled her finger up and motioned for her to come towards her—and whether the motion was meant to be seductive was beyond Santana, but she couldn't seem to advert her mind to believe otherwise. She stalked her way over to the blonde and leaned on the crystal neon bar.

"Back for more," Santana commented, making Quinn eye her with a smirk—another smug comment she presumed would follow; just a matter of time.

"I'm not gay," she tells Santana, as if that was something Santana should know nor care about. Santana shrugged it off like it didn't matter, because in reality it didn't to her. She knew she could get any girl she wanted that walked into this bar, gay or straight, so Quinn wasn't someone that would be any different.

"You do know you're in a gay bar, right?" She asked, making Quinn look around frantically—eyes widen in horror, then her mouth gapped open in shock.

"Oh my God, am I? Holy shit!" She responded sarcastically, earning a breathed out laugh from Santana, only to have her smile and laugh along with her. "I'm strangely here for you. For some outlandish reason, I kept thinking about you throughout the week," she added in complete seriousness. Santana eyed her curiously, wondering what she could possibly be thinking about her for.

"No one has ever talked back to me before—it really took me aback. It just got me thinking, 'where the hell has this girl been all my life?'" She yelled over the music at it got louder. Santana was seeing where this was leading and she really wanted to jump on it before Quinn got the chance to, and being the independent woman Quinn Fabray was—she was going to be around the bush before she gets to her point.

"I get off at one," Santana comments, before Quinn looked down, smirking, pulling a little posted note and pen out of her purse—because you never know when you'll need to write your address down for someone. Quinn hands it to her, before sliding off the barstool and walking through the crowd. Santana's eyes lingered at every curve of her hips and butt, as it moved almost in slow motion before she was out of sight.

"Oh Santana, what are you getting yourself in to?" She spoke to herself as her eyes casted upon the handwriting, before placing it in her pocket and walking off to fill more orders.

x.x.x.x.x

Pulling up in her used, paint chipped, car, Santana scans the building through her passenger window. Clearly Quinn is doing well for herself—whatever it is she does for a living. She didn't really mind nor care what she did, otherwise she'd ask her and at any rate, Quinn clearly dressed well enough for the Latina to know whatever her job was, it was important. She sighed and pulled the door open and shut it, having to use her hip to close the door all the way because the door was having problems closing, and made her way through the sliding door.

She pressed the button in the elevator and it slowly rose floor after floor, until hitting twelve with a ding. She walked through it almost cautiously, making sure to not go in the wrong direction of her condo. She stepped towards the right and down a few paces, before stopping at condo number 1225. She took a deep breath and started to reconsider knocking. She's never done this before—she's thought about it, but to actually do this was something out of her comfort zone, but as she was about to knock, the door began to move slightly—it was already cracked open. She glanced down both ends of the hall in utter confusion before stepping in.

Santana peeked into the condo—it was very immaculate, unlike her dinky apartment. She had a flat screen television and dark wood cabinets in her kitchen along with marble counter tops. She scanned the condo a little longer before, deciding to make herself known. "Uh Quinn?" She called, shutting the door quietly, before she passed the master bedroom and spotted Quinn laying on the bed, with her comforter over her.

"Hi," she breathed out to the blonde, before she saw Quinn grin and slip the comforter off to reveal her absolutely nude body grazing the sheets. Santana's eyes widened and her head arches back. Not to say that Quinn's body was hideous or anything remotely close to that, in fact her body was absolutely perfect—stunning even. Santana was just shocked by her action.

"Wow," Santana breathed out before laughing slightly to hide her slight embarrassment. Quinn smiled, before motioning for Santana to come towards her and like she was hypnotized she obliged. Quinn slid to the front and made her way on her knees as Santana stood at the foot of her bed, slowly sliding her hands up Santana's stomach to her chest, pulling her jacket off her arms.

Santana bites her bottom lip, before Quinn pulls at the hem of her shirt to pull it off, leaving her clad in her bra and jeans. Quinn scans her body, rubbing her hands over her stomach, placing light kisses on her shoulder, then pulling her hands back around her body. She clutched tightly to Santana's backside, causing a slight yelp to form in her throat, before pulling her on top of her nude body.

Santana takes this time to capture the blonde's lips full force, pulling herself down, wrapping Quinn's legs tightly around hers, pushing her further on the bed. Santana lowered her lips down to Quinn's pulse point, making sure to pay special attention to it. Quinn groaned and her throat pulsated against her lips. Tightening her grip to Santana's frame, Quinn slipped the straps of Santana's bra off her shoulders, before Santana pulled away quickly to unclasp the fabric and toss it away.

She tugged at Santana's jeans, huffing at them for not coming off as easily as she'd like them to. "Take them off," she demands, breathing heavily before she pushed Santana off her aggressively. She hopped on top of her and tugged at the button and unzipped them, before pulling both her pants and underwear off herself before Santana could even get a chance. She threw them off to the side hard, before kissing and biting Santana's skin on her stomach.

Santana moaned just as Quinn attacked her lips hungrily, grinding her hips into Santana, causing her to issue another moan. "I could've taken them off myself, you know," Santana commented into her lips, only to have Quinn push Santana down on the bed forcefully and take her bottom lip between her teeth, and nipping on it somewhat hard, but not enough to break skin.

"You were taking too long for my liking. Now shut up and fuck me," she responded breathlessly, before Santana flipped them over and pushed her down just as forcefully as she was being, again shocking the blonde, but she never faltered. Santana licked the vanilla like flesh, down the valley between her breasts, to her navel, circling around her belly button. She made small kisses, making sure to add nips to mark her on her inner thigh with a trail to what really mattered most.

It was evident, where Santana was going to Quinn, but this is exactly what Quinn wanted and in no way was she going to stop her, so with a pull on both of her legs over the Latina's shoulders, Santana gave her core a hard firm lick, enticing a whimper to escape her lips. "You're so hot," Santana breathed out against the nub, causing her lips to vibrate against it.

"Santana fuck," she groaned out, raising her hips up to buck them into her face—if Santana wasn't going to do it willingly, she was going to make her. Santana pulled away for a moment with an epiphany—how did Quinn know her name? She didn't recall her asking nor did she even introduce herself. "Santana! Focus damn it!" Quinn snapped her back to reality. Quinn was clearly needy, but Santana somehow didn't mind this.

"How did you know my name?" Santana finally asked curiously. Quinn lifted her head with an irritated expression. Why the hell was she asking this now? In the middle of this, suppose to be amazing, sensual moment?

"You have a nametag, now please get on with it," Quinn gritted through her teeth. Santana was slightly worried about her temper. Perhaps it's been fueled by the lack of sex she receives. Sexual frustration can really do that to a person and that's just sad in Santana's mind.

Santana dove back in though, like requested and continued to assault the nub and her core with her tongue and fingers. She knew that once she got over the initial shock that Quinn actually took the time to look at her nametag in the club, this would be fantastic for Quinn and she was right. Quinn was issuing moans and groans in all different alcoves and it only aroused Santana more and more, before she heard Quinn scream loudly and pull a wad of her hair before her body slowly began to spasm as she rode out her orgasm. Santana knew full well that this was only a hookup and nothing more. She wasn't expecting anything less from the blonde, so it was alright.

She knew Quinn was attractive, but she was successful and had a major controlling and attitude problem, so even if Quinn did want more from Santana, she knew she was out of her league. Santana is a bartender and whatever Quinn did for a living it certainly paid better than a drink mixer. As she laid next to blonde and saw her eyes close, she knew for a fact that Quinn was much better off without her.

x.x.x.x.x

Saturday morning. Santana laid comfortably in a pillow top bed. Even though she wasn't awake she knew this was definitely not her bed—her bed was in no way shape or form this comfortable. Next to her was completely empty and the room was rather silent, until Quinn emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body. Santana instantly caught her eye as she let a slight snore escape her, making Quinn laugh slightly and shake her head at the sight, before grabbing clothes off the floor and throwing pieces of them at Santana.

Santana groaned slightly, before another piece hit her. "Get up," Quinn demanded as she walked around to her closet. By this time, Santana's eyes are squinted, watching the blonde pull some work appropriate clothes off their respective hangers.

"It's eight in the morning on a Saturday, why the hell are you up so early?" Santana croaked in a groggy tone, as Quinn comes out fixing her breasts in a fresh bra and pulls the clothes on.

"I have to go to work," she tells her, placing her skirt on.

"But it's Saturday," Santana repeats, causing Quinn to sigh heavily and stop to stare at the Latina. "Who works on a Saturday?"

Giving the Latina a dumbfounded look, she points to her. "You do," she states, going back into the bathroom to place some light makeup on to hide the fact that she didn't get a whole lot of sleep the night before for obvious reasons.

Santana sighed and got up finally, walking into the bathroom, spotting the blonde putting eyeliner on. She yawns and leans against the doorframe for a moment. "But that's different. I'm a bartender and you're a—well we've never gotten to that," Santana waves off with a smirk, looking at Quinn's reaction in the mirror, which turned to a smirk and she nodded off slightly, knowing Santana was right.

"I'm in marketing," she mumbles, placing the eyeliner away and adding light cover up on her cheeks with blush, before walking past the Latina, who seemed to be baffled by her occupation. Why would she want to be involved with a bartender, knowing that she made way more money than she was ever capable of making?

"I'm obviously not in marketing, but even I know they have weekends off," she states, following Quinn out of the room to see her placing her heels on. Quinn tosses Santana her bra and shirt almost to hint that she needed to be ready to get out around when she's ready.

"If I'm going to make partner, I'm going to do everything I can to make sure it happens, including working on weekends. Now if you'll hurry up and get ready, so I can leave that'd be fantastic," she tells her firmly as if she's her boss and since they are in her condo, in a way she is. Santana eyes her for a moment, before she decides to change back in her clothes. Weirdly enough, all she could think about was she was being a lot nicer to her than she was before—what changed?