You wandered into the random New York bar, in an attempt to drown out your worries and fears. A lot was on your plate recently the sudden rise to fame was overwhelming and even more so the attention you seemed to everlastingly garner. You weren't sure this was exactly what you had signed up for, you just wanted to make rhymes and produce music. The fame that came with it was a sort of deal breaker for you, especially the hoards of women that did not seem to get a hint, and the men too. This is why you were here alas, to forget about your fame in a secluded bar in the outskirts of New York. You did not come here with the intention of sleeping around, anytime you so much as spoke to someone the tabloids developed new stories.
You know it was petty of you to complain about the lack of privacy after all, once you make it in the industry you become part of it. You are set for life, but you become a product— an otherworldly person that has standards Jesus himself probably couldn't fulfill.
Perhaps, this is why it didn't work with Brittany, she could not handle your claim to fame or the admirers and groupies that came with it. Although, she knew you would never pursue anything with them, it still stung having tabloids badmouth and question the faithfulness of your significant other on a daily basis.
Once inside the bar you're pulled out of you reverie, holy shit could it be? After all these years you did not expect to see her here of all places.
Walking towards her you startle her with your raspy voice, "I didn't expect to see you here."
Sulking in the corner in all her grace was the infamous blonde, the one you had shared a "two-time" thing with all those years ago and damn she was even more gorgeous up close.
"Yeah well I didn't either." she says dismissively studying you for a second before elegantly sipping the rest of her wine. As if hoping the bitterness would soothe some part of her, as if she was trying to forget something. Funny you think, you and Quinn were always two ends of the same bitch goddess spectrum, it was only right that you'd meet up on a night where you were both attempting to forget your troubles.
You reach out wanting to touch her provide that comfort that only friendship could provide in hopes of perhaps soothing her, but you decide against it, your touch is probably not wanted, so you bring your hand down and smooth your pencil skirt instead.
"What brings you here? You don't mind if I sit right?" you question with a lift of your eyebrow.
But a bitter chuckle escapes the blonde before she could stop it, "Since when do you ask for permission?" Quinn asks, perhaps this is not her first glass of wine.
Seeing Santana flinch and her eyes immediately hardening afterwards sobers up a part of Quinn. She sighs running a hand through her hair and avoiding eye contact.
She speaks up then, her voice softer, the softest you've ever heard, as if the girl is carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, "It's Biff and well school. Everyone— everything I guess" she says shrugging her firm shoulders.
Her dark brown eyes softened then, and part of you stopped— momentarily stunned and hating that she was directing that pitiful look at you, of all people. But you remind yourself that perhaps opening up to someone would help you. If they listened and refrained from telling anyone else at least, then that would help you. Lord, knows you were tired of the gossip. All you needed was to share the burden with someone, anyone who would listen and perhaps that would give you the clarity and the willingness to move on with your life.
"Well, what's going on?" she asked in an acutely familiar tone she'd used three years prior, reminiscent of that night following Schuester's non-wedding.
Her caring and empathetic tone moves you and you find your voice in that instant, although raspy and unfiltered "He dumped me." You sigh again look at your glass, swirling its contents and you proceed.
"He was my ticket into the good life. I thought he would be my escape, especially now when I needed him most. My parents just passed away.." you clear your throat refusing to cry and you carry on.
"He was my ticket into the 'good life'— if that even exists. I have no support whatsoever, financially that is. I wanted to finish my last year at Yale Law before any of this happened, before I had to work full time. I have to figure it out"
Your eyes toughen then and that sparkle that she was afraid she wouldn't get to see comes back. "I will figure it out," you smile at her briefly.
"Thanks for listening" you finish your drink ready to leave this damned bar. But she reaches forward, stepping in front of you before you can make a swift exit, and she hugs you.
She hugs you her toned arms enveloping your frame. Before you know it, almost immediately following her squeeze, the dam breaks. You cry all that you have been holding in for the past month, your teardrops stain her red top and you're clutching onto her like she's your lifeline.
You sigh into her shoulder sniffling, you can't help but think that hugs are such a peculiar thing. You never know when you need one and you never know the impact that this simple gesture can have on someone. When someone hugs you, they offer their unconditional emotional support and all of your emotional baggage simply seeps through, despite your refusal. But most importantly, you establish an inner peace with yourself.
You brush that thought aside, however, because right now your old friend who you have not seen in two years is hugging you and it is such a strange yet comforting sensation. You reminisce and really you've only needed comforting twice in your life, when Beth happened and now. That's acceptable, you allow yourself this comfort.
It doesn't last as long as you hope, she pulls back and kisses your forehead. Such an innocent and tender gesture you're not sure how to react. Your heart fills with warmth, and you smile at her in thanks.
She then asks, in a soft tone as if not to usher you away, "Where are you staying?" you murmur that right now a rundown hotel in the outskirts of New York City.
She simply suggests "just stay with me tonight?"
She must notice how you tense up, her eyes widen and she immediately releases you, "I mean, I have a really nice couch, you could take my bed?"
Her ramble brings out a bark of laughter out of you. She blushes and rolls her eyes saying, "If you want, its a really nice apartment? Besides I want to be here for you, everyone needs a friend."
You smile and the word "friends" slightly bothers you, although it must be because friends do not avoid each other for two years after they have sex. But who are you kidding? You miss Santana a lot more than you will ever willingly admit aloud, the Latina was one of your only friends growing up she's seen you at your worst, when you where tubbers, pregnant, and now when you're truly alone.
So you cut her off mid-ramble, before she goes off on a tangent trying to convince you once more before she gives up, because you know that Santana does not beg and she never will.
"Thank you Santana. Just— thanks", she gives you a sad smile and you cannot decide whether it is pity or not, you know for a fact it is sympathy. There's a fine line between sympathy and pity and you hope that she does not ever direct the latter at you.
When you walk outside, the New York shimmering lights frame her face. You take notice that she looks great. Santana has aged like fine wine, she's even better as the years go by. You walk silently and briskly for about ten minutes before she calls an uber.
You make it to a private apartment in the upper east side, you're stunned by the elegance of it all. You greet the security guard on your way up with her and once inside her apartment you turn to her and ask, "Where's Brittany?"
Last you heard Santana had married Brittany, her high school sweetheart.
She looks at you and the brief flicker of pain in her dark irises stuns you, and very softly she says, "Our marriage didn't work out, too many groupies at work. The longer I stayed with Brit I realized that my marriage to her was a lame attempt at holding on to a younger, idealistic me and ironically a bitter me too." She chuckles then, a stark contrast to what she just said to you and nonchalantly says "High school sweethearts never work out. At least it didn't for us"
You don't realize you invaded her space until after you arms are wrapped firmly around her waist and you feel her breath in your neck.
"I'm sorry" you say, but you're not sure you mean it. You always did feel like Santana was settling for Brittany. She deserved the world and Brittany was too much of a free spirit to truly tie down to one person, let alone someone as abrasive and firm as Santana.
She pulls back, looking up at you and smiles that all-knowing half smile of hers. "You're not" she says not leaving room for an argument.
Before you retaliate and deny it, she whispers and had you not seen her lips moving, you would have thought it to be a figment of your imagination. "I'm not either. It's better this way. Perhaps, everything happens for a reason"
Your throat tightens and you remember your losses; Beth, mom and dad. Before you fully emerge yourself in those dark thoughts, Santana pulls your wrist and guides you into the kitchen. She offers you French Toast and you really can't deny her not when she's showcasing her little dimples and looking at you like that.
You interrupt her mid syrup pour, "Look, I'm not sorry about what happened between you and Brittany. I think you deserve someone who loves you equally, San, and everything happens for a reason. I mean, maybe I went to that gay bar tonight so that I could end up with you right now." You say poking at your French toast, damn she hasn't lost her skill in the kitchen after all this time, while observing her.
The way her eyes light up, her chubby cheeks stuffed until she swallows mumbling, "Maybe, yeah," fills you a slight warmth in your abdomen until the conversation takes an unexpected turn.
"Quinn, what are you planning to do? I mean with school and everything that is," she says willing you to refuse getting angry at her with her wide eyes.
You look down suddenly losing your appetite, smearing the syrup everywhere with your fork, "I don't know"
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The sunlight flowing in through the curtains wakes you, and you remember that you're in Santana's fluffy queen sized bed because she refused to let you sleep on her couch. You don't know if she's awake but if the time on the clock by her doorway is anything to go by, she's probably still sleeping.
You start reflecting on where exactly it was that your friendship with Santana went wrong. What had gone so wrong so that you two could drift this far apart?
Lost in your thoughts you don't hear when Santana gently opens the door, "Hey, would you like an omelette? I'll add extra bacon and everything." She says, voice raspy.
You look up slightly startled, "Yes, please? What can I help with?"
She smiles then- one of her rare genuine million dollar toothy grins, "You can make the orange juice?" and your stomach fills with warmth, some part of you feels at ease.
Yet, as you're squeezing the oranges you can't help but be slightly off put with how domestic this all seems.
Relax, I'm not gonna show up at your place with a u-haul.
You shake your head at the ridiculousness of it all, she never even called after that night.
Santana must have had a similar train of thought because all of a sudden she's avoiding eye contact and she her shoulders are tense, as if she's guarding herself— from what, you're not sure.
So you decide to just cut the pleasantries and leave perhaps your old friendship cannot be reestablished. Perhaps, sex really did change your relationship after all, even if it's been years since that night.
Perhaps, last night was just her feeling pity for you. But before you can get the right words to say so that you can make your exit, she interrupts your train of thought.
"Stay. With me. Just stay. You don't have to go anywhere else. I have a proposition for you but I'm not sure you'll like it." She tells you.
You sigh. "There are a lot of things I do not like" at that she she smiles though slightly, a half smile.
"I think you should marry me"
You choke on your drink and orange juice seeps from your nose of all the things you were expecting it certainly was not that. She rushes over to you then, patting your back and in her usual snarky tone says "Geez, I didn't think the thought of marrying me would be that repulsive, Poppin' Fresh"
"Look, it doesn't have to be romantic, it won't be. I don't expect sex or anything."
She sighs pinching the bridge of her nose, "I am well off now, Quinn. I'm the leading producer in New York City despite only going to undergrad at NYU. I can give you enough money to cover the tuition and housing fees. I am well off now."
You're about to respond to her and again she interrupts you.
Perhaps, Santana really does fear rejection if she's trying to really explain her proposition. Or maybe she doesn't want you to slap her, yeah that's probably why, "I know it's a lot to take in. I haven't seen you in three years but I just really want to help you out. I wanna be there for you. You're not alone because you have me. Let me help you"
This time you don't let her interrupt you, "Santana, I don't need your pity. I don't need anyone. I don't need you" you rush out feeling slightly confined and a bit patronized.
She scoffs then, her eyes boring into yours, "Really? Really you don't need me? Look at yourself, you don't even know what to do after your lease breaks through! Where are you going to go? Back to Yale? Quinn, I can help you. I can help you finish school. It isn't pity. I respect you and I value you. I want to help you, I need to help you. Ugh, but fine just go. It was presumptuous of me to assume that you'd want to live with me or that you'd even accept my help, I know you're not some charity case."
You sigh running a hand through your blonde hair. "Why? Why do you want to help me now? We haven't even talked for years, Santana. I'm not going to fill the void Brittany left. I'm a different person"
She glares at you, "Did you not listen to what I told you? Our friendship has always clicked and I assume living together will be no different. The only difference is that you're married to me. Look people in my industry are respected when they are married. I'm 26, that needs to happen soon otherwise, I won't be respected, I'll be seen as the person that takes everything as joke. I know this is the 21st century but shit, I gotta get this done. Why else do you think Jay-Z married Beyonce? He was at a point in his career where he was jaded, his time had passed and he could no longer profit off of the single card. That's me right now. There that's what I get from this. Besides that, having someone as beautiful as you by my side would help me avoid unwanted attention and establish that I totally landed you: a hot, smart, and accomplished girl. You know why I can't sleep around. I can't risk people finding out about this and risk them exploiting me for it." She gestures at her crotch.
"That's it, that's all I get from this. Plus, I genuinely want to help you. Brit and I never would have worked, I ended our engagement, contrary to popular belief. She was part of an old resentful and ironically idealistic Santana. I'm a better person now. I've grown"
She's a bit winded by the time she finished her speech, and you're simply shocked.
"Okay", you say going back to serving the juices.
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The wedding is a blur, all you remember are the puffy lips against yours and the paparazzi outside snapping tons of pictures.
Santana seems content— almost as if she was at peace with herself. That night, she asks if she can sleep with you on the bed while she waits for her office to be turned into another room. You laugh, lifting the covers and she smiles while your heart thumps in your chest wildly. Before you know it she's drifted off in your arms and you decide to ignore the flutter of your chest.
You fall asleep as the big spoon after all she needed to be protected too. The next day, however you're the little spoon and you feel her warmth against your back and her warm breath on your neck and you close your eyes trying to enjoy this close proximity without putting to much thought into it. But your eyes snap open when her hips shift a little and her morning wood presses against your backside.
You stiffen then, you're not prepared for this, she's not attracted to you. This is simply her body's reaction, you try to think of anything else, until her arms tighten around you pulling you closer into her, your butt firmly grazing her shorts clad shaft.
You sigh then, deciding to just wait until she wakes. When she does she smiles at you wearily until she feels herself against you; her eyes widen and she falls and the wooden floor.
She's a blubbering mess, her cheeks a very light shade of pink, "I'm so sorry Quinn! You should have woken me, I haven't had morning wood in years" she glares at the hand above her crotch.
You can't help but be slightly flattered, maybe you were the cause of this. "It's okay, Santana it's normal"
She's immediately relieved and you both eat breakfast silently that morning.
"So school starts in two months, San. I'm supposed to go back to New Haven."
Maybe you just imagined it but you could swear you saw her deflate a little, "Oh, yeah! Are there any school supplies you need or something?"
You laugh, "What am I twelve, Santana? and nah, I may just update the Microsoft Office on my computer that's all."
She blushes, "Would you like me to buy you anything?"
You laugh harder wiping a tear off your eye. You reach over the table and grab her hand looking directly in her eyes, "You're not my sugar momma, San. Besides you're just helping me with school for this last year, once I graduate and get a job I'll repay you, and we'll get a divorce"
Your stomach drops at the end of it, but surely she doesn't expect you to remained married for too long. She looks away, her grip on your hand and the smile on her face fading.
"Yeah, I mean I just need you for appearances" she smiles tightly and suddenly your feelings are hurt.
You're washing the dishes roughly when you hear a sigh behind you, "Why are you upset, Quinn?"
"I'm not upset" you refuse to discuss this further but you can't contain the hurt from your voice when you ask. "Is that all I am to you? An appearance?"
"No, you're my best friend too!" she says, desperately backpedalling in hopes of not hurting your feelings but that only manages to make you fume even more. You know you have no right to be upset, you and her are nothing, if anything you just sleep together— actually sleep together.
You walk away feeling her behind you, she speeds up blocking the passage into your room.
"Why are you mad at me? You're the one that said this arrangement was temporary! What do you expect from me then? I don't know what the fuck you want! Shit, I try to be here for you and be understanding but you just shut me out! I'm trying to be your friend Quinn!"
You turn your head swiftly looking back into her eyes and surprising both of you, "That's the problem! I don't want you to just be my friend!"
She stiffens, "What do you mean?"
Before you know it you're kissing her like your life depends on it, tearing the clothes off her body running your hands down her abs and pulling her from her shorts, tugging the foreskin. Somehow she slams you against the wall but before she slams into you, you push her back, breathlessly and say simply, "condom"
She nods lifts you up, your legs wrapping around her torso. And she sets you on the bed, pulling her box of condoms out of her drawer and hurriedly rolling it on.
Just like that she enters you and a guttural moan escapes you and she fucking smirks and that pulls the first orgasm of the night from you.
Hours later you're wrapped up around her, completely spent and aching in the best of ways.
"So I'll see you in December?", she asks her eyes gleaming
"Yes," you respond tilting your head down slightly to kiss her deeply.
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You sigh pulling your luggage behind you. Getting reacquainted with Santana was not something you were expecting and you definitely were not expecting to become a missus! Walking away makes you feel a flash of sadness and you're not sure why, I mean yours and Santana's relationship has been mainly a stress relief for both of you— it's just been sex. You know that perhaps this isn't the brightest option for you right now, but before you know it your arrangement will end and you'll move on with your life. You look over your shoulder and she's waiting below the stairs donning her dorky visor and glasses, damn, she's definitely trying not to bring attention to herself, maybe you'll need to give her advice on how to do that effectively. You wave at her and she gives you this grin that will probably make your next ten years.
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"Hello?"
Her raspy voice breaks through the speaker phone, "Hey, um, how are you?"
She sounds nervous and your stomach drops, surely she didn't cheat on you I mean, come on you've been abstinent for two months! If she did, it's not like you both said it would be an exclusive arrangement.
"What's wrong? You sound off. Are you okay?", you ask her.
She clears her throat, "So I was hoping we could hang out during Thanksgiving. Unless you have plans which I completely understand, I mean it'll totally be your loss anyways. What do you say?"
You laugh, realizing that her mean act in high school was simply a persona, she wanted to be accepted like everyone else. So this was the dork that Brittany would fawn over all those years ago.
"I was planning on going back home to you" you ignore the word you just used. Is that space you share with Santana home? It's the closest thing to home you've ever had. You shake your head, of course it's home she's your best friend and she truly tries to understand you.
Is that a sigh of relief you hear on the other end? You're not sure, so you decide to ignore it.
"Cool, Quinn. I'm not really much of a cook so maybe we'll eat out on Thanksgiving", she tells you, her warm voice flowing through the speaker.
"Nonsense, I know how to cook! We can totally make a simple dinner"
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When you see her in the airport you suddenly realize that you had missed her so much, she's your friend of course you were going to miss her. You run towards her and she catches you, unsurprisingly and she kisses your cheek.
"I've missed you, Quinn", and the gleam in her eyes tell you it's the truth.
You smile caressing her chubby cheek, "Good. I missed you too"
You're both cooking dinner and the domesticity comforts you more that you're willing to admit. Suddenly you're bitter because you both agreed this would be a temporary set up. This marriage was over as soon as graduation happened. She just wanted to help you as a friend and that is that.
However, when she looks at you like that, a mixture of confused concentration and adoration you're not sure whether adding sex to this arrangement was a good idea.
Soon dinner is prepared and you're setting up the table when you feel her arms wrap around you from behind. You turn in her arms, and kiss her lips. A peck, easily interpreted as a friendly gesture.
That night cuddled in her arms. You see her moonlit face perfectly at ease and content with herself, and you sigh. Love is for fools. This is not you. You can't have feelings now, after you tried to drown them out with Biff all those years ago.
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Santana, is our relationship open?" If her sputtering and choking on her protein shake is anything to go by surely the answer is no.
"Are you not satisfied? I mean, if you want it to be then yes. But I, um well I can't have that with anyone else." She avoids eye contact, as if the mere suggestion of you sleeping with someone else burned her.
You sigh. You hate yourself for what you are about to do, but love is for fools.
"There's this girl in my class, she's something else and I want to try something with her. I just don't want you to be upset."
Her heart hurts, why are you lying, your heart aches when she refuses to meet your eye.
"That's cool. Go for it, tell ya what. Let's end this whole sex thing between us, it'll make everything worse. Give it an honest shot. It's not like we're actually married", she tells you.
That hurts, a lot more than you're willing to accept, but you nod nonetheless.
That night she no longer drapes her arm around you.
Upon your return to Yale you simply do your schoolwork hoping to end the semester without a flaw, the last thing you're thinking about is whether Santana is with someone else.
Although she calls you every night and that placates you somehow, some greedy part of you is glad she's investing so much time in your relationship, well, friendship.
Soon her calls are what you look forward to every day, and you start to realize that somewhere along the line it happened, you formed a relationship with her.
Your mouth is on hers the minute you walk in and surprise her early. You couldn't resist her, besides you decided to not have sex with anyone for that past month. This' the season to get your sex on though!
She pushes you back though and your eyebrow furrows in confusion. "Are you okay?"
But your lips are on hers again, "I just want you. I've missed you. That's all"
That's enough for her, she kisses you and suddenly you're both grinding on the front door, she pulls back, lips stick smeared. "Let me uh. Let me get a condom"
Just like that she picks you up and before she sets you on the bed you say to her, "Let me help you roll it on" before you know it you're on top of her licking and gently tugging her foreskin once she's hard and pulsing in your palm, you roll the latex condom on her in one swift motion
Now you're on top of her controlling her strokes but that isn't enough and she flips you over slamming into you and biting your breasts.
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"So I have a gala to go to, and I have a plus one would you like to come with me?"
"That's why we're married Santana," the way she flinches hurts you a lot more than you intended. You've come to the conclusion that you can never truly make up your mind enough for you to be happy.
You sigh pinching the bridge of your nose, walk behind her from where she's standing in the walk-in closet and you kiss her shoulder then her ear. Walking in front of her draping your arms around her neck.
"I mean of course I would go with you. Even if we weren't married, I'd want you all to myself", you wink at her.
She smiles, "That's good then, Luce. We'll have to go gown shopping tomorrow"
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The day of the gala on the red carpet you wear a peach dress and Santana a gold that hugs her curves in all the right places.
Lights flash, you accompany her to a few interviews where she introduces you as her wife, but and the brief shock the interviewee has brings pleasure to a darker part of you.
In the red carpet her hand on your waist makes you feel like the most beautiful and loved girl in the world, you never knew that a simple gesture could evoke that from you. You're here with Santana and that's all that matters.
"Hi Santana, what are you wearing today?"
"Uh, Alfani gown? I honestly don't know. Why do you always ask the women what they're wearing and not the men? Shit, their tuxedos have a wide range of designers too!
The interviewer chuckles nervously, "producer Santana Lopez, everyone! Always asking the real questions!"
She looks over at Quinn now, "Who might this be Ms. Lopez?"
"Actually, Mrs. Fabray-Lopez. We just got married after dating in undergrad a long time ago!" Santana says pulling Quinn closer.
The interviewer lights up, "Thank you Mrs. Lopez . You heard it here first The Santana Lopez is no longer on the market" she signals the camera off, and turns to the couple, "you sure know how to catch them. She's gorgeous!" She says to Santana
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That night as Santana ravages you, your only thought is that you have two more months 'till graduation and this set up, whatever it is, it's coming to an end.
You realize very quickly that now it's a few months before graduation and you freak out because your time with Santana is running out.
You fall asleep clinging on to her like she's your life. Maybe she's become that.
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You have one month until graduation and you're not sure why you feel extra tired or why your body refuses to accept any food.
"Hey Lucy Q, what are you up to?", you roll your eyes at Santana, not that she could see you anyways.
"Nothing besides throwing up!"
"Have you been eating shitty food or what's up? You should probably get that checked out." She says worriedly. "Maybe I can go to the doc with you, I know how uncomfortable you are in hospitals and clinics after Beth"
You appreciate that but the brighter part of you tells you not to worry, you probably just have the stomach flu. "Thanks San, but I'm sure I'll be fine. I'm excited for graduation though, afterwords I get to go back to New York to stay! Besides you can give me a proper tour of your studio"
"Yeah, I'm just excited to have you here with me again." Your heart skips a beat, but before you know it, you run to the bathroom throwing up your breakfast.
"Quinn, I'm going to stay sigh you for a few days. I'll take you some vitamins to help you feel better", you hear her say.
"Alright" you drift away on your bed.
At exactly 8pm Santana knocks on your dorm room. Take out in hand and vitamins.
Her company helps you feel better, you feel as if you're going to conquer finals and get your damn diploma once and for all, you fall asleep in her arms.
Sadly Santana has duty calls and has to return to New York the next day.
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Graduation comes around and your gown is luckily loose, admittedly you've gained weight this past month.
All you remember from graduation is getting your diploma taking tons of pictures with Santana around campus in your gown, posting them on your Instagram. You don't recall when you gained that many followers but you don't mind.
Finally the best part of graduation is packing up everything on San's truck for your return to New York.
You're excited at the prospect of working for a magazine and finally putting your talent to use. You decided to become the lawyer for a major magazine franchise and you're excited.
Still, you and Santana remain undefined and you dare not bring it up. You're not sure where you stand and part of you just doesn't want to define it but you know its for fear of rejection.
As promised to Santana you head to the doctor's the next day, you went on WebMD and now you're almost positive it's Polycystic Ovary Syndrome you're dealing with. No matter, must be a result of the sudden weight gain, nothing a few hormones cannot fix.
However, the doctors suggestion of a pregnancy test startles you. You would know if you were pregnant, you had Beth after all. You tell the doctor just that and she chuckles, explaining that every pregnancy is different. Finally, after arguing for about twenty minutes you decide to go through with it; besides, you're not actually pregnant, and maybe that'll get this knowing smirk off of Dr. Cohen's face!
Yet, the results make your world come crashing down.
What will happen to you and Santana, you both are mere fuck buddies. Damn, you did not think through this, allowing your vagina to make decisions for you!
You need to tell her and this is perhaps the most inopportune time to tell her your feelings. You do not expect her to raise a family, then again you did not expect her to marry you of all people either.
Sighing and squeezing the bridge of your nose you decide to go home, maybe you'll get started on dinner or something.
When Santana arrives home that night at around 5 you greet her with a tender kiss and she chuckles nervously but nonetheless complies and kisses you back.
She looks into your eyes and all of a sudden you are nervous and you do not know what to tell her, but the seeming understanding and a twinkle of something else in her eyes, startles you but makes you rush forward a bit.
She chuckles nervously, "This is oddly domestic" but she notices the way you stiffen and goes on in an attempt to remediate your discomfort, "but it's really nice. I enjoy sharing this with you" the insecurity in her eyes hurts some part of you.
You pull back and she immediately gives you your space rushing to set her bags down in her office, but before she manages to continue her self-deprecating tirade in solitude, she's sure to have you interrupt her.
"We need to talk", your voice comes out as a rushed whisper and her visible discomfort startles you.
She turns to you sighing, "Nothing good ever comes out of talks, Quinn. Is this about—"
You cut her off before she continues, "I need to talk to you Santana."
She laughs then, her rich laughter calming a bit of your nerves, "We've established that" But seriousness soon surrounds you yet again. You feel as if you are suffocating, but something tells you that perhaps this information isn't as bad as it seems.
Before she can protest or say another witty comment you tug her bottom lip with your teeth. "I really, really do. It's important"
You guide her to the couch and you sit next to her, establishing a respectable space between you, you rub your hands impatiently— nerves radiating off of you in waves.
Surprisingly, the notoriously impatient Santana Lopez, waits patiently for you to speak.
You run a hand through your hair and begin what is sure to be the second most uncomfortable conversation you've had in your entire life.
What comes out of your mouth is not what you expected startling yourself,
"San, I want you more than I've wanted anyone. Isn't it dangerous? I know what I said a few months ago about us ever becoming a real item. That was me being in denial, I-I think it is safe to say we are already in a relationship. I'm no longer attracted, physically,, mentally, or emotionally to anyone but you. I just want to make it official. To make it officially real." You finish off lamely losing a bit of your confidence in noticing her stoic expression.
A million thoughts run through your mind, what if you ruined it all? What if you love like fools?
She closes the distance kissing you deeply and you decide to keep the other pressing news for tomorrow. Tomorrow becomes later, later becomes next week until, you keep putting it off.
But before you know it your bump is slightly visible in your lower abdomen, you realize that now you must tell her. You have to tell her.
...
So that day during dinner you're a jittery mess. You struggle when washing the dishes, the blade piercing your skin. Ugh, you two should really get a dish washer you think bitterly.
"When we first reacquainted you told me I didn't have to be alone anymore because I have you, Santana."
She wipes a stray tear from her eyes. "Except I need to tell you that I now have another person"
Her eyes linger on yours and a shadow of something else crosses them. "What do you mean another person?"
In her confused gaze you see a flicker of fear and a hint of betrayal, before she acts rashly you quickly mutter, "I'm pregnant Santana, it's our baby"
Santana heart skips a beat at the phrase
"Our baby?" You mean that night? Four months ago? When we went to the red carpet event?" She asks quickly but pauses as if remembering a more pressing question.
"Well, what do you plan to do?" Santana asks gulping, she really hopes Quinn doesn't give it up for adoption but she truly has no say in the manner. It's Quinn who will be carrying their child after all. God, maybe referring to the little being inside Quinn as their baby isn't a good idea, she doesn't want to get attached as Quinn may want to get rid of him- it. Quinn may want to get rid of it.
"I want to keep her Santana. This situation isn't like Beth. It's completely different I wasn't raped. You didn't rape me. This child is a fruit of our attraction and respect for one another. I'm not asking you to be my family Santana. I just want to love this baby, she's the only family I have left"
She walks toward you lifts your chin and gently wipes your tears with her right thumb pad.
"We'll co parent then" when she smiles her dark eyes glimmer. "I didn't think this was possible for me. You've given me the greatest gift, and I don't simply respect you! I love you, Lucy Q!"
Now the oncoming question Quinn was dreading arises, "Did you know this, that you were pregnant before you told me how you felt about me?"
"I found out that day", you sigh.
"I don't want to force you into a family with me Quinn. Just because you're pregnant with my child doesn't mean you have to settle for me. I wouldn't forgive myself for tying you down like that" she pauses, " I think that we should take a break between us so that you know how you truly feel. I wont file the divorce yet but I want to give you a genuine opportunity. I don't want you to regret being with me or feel like you're stuck with me now because our baby is involved. I'm sorry Quinn"
"Is it me being pregnant that changes everything, are you getting cold feet now?" Your voice cracks and you hate how vulnerable you sound.
"No Quinn. It's not that at all. I love you. The thing is, I'm not sure if you love me. I'm going to be here for the baby, and you, but it's not prudent to tie you down to me when the only reason you confessed these feelings or that they been spurred up to begin with was because you found out you are carrying my baby" her dark compassionate eyes will you to simply accept her conditions.
"Okay" you whisper.
"We're not over okay." She says grasping your hand. "At least not until you decide this is what you actually want. A family with me" she smiles a side smile, showing her adorable dimples. God, hopefully your child inherits her heart melting dimples.
For the next two weeks you dance around each other refortifying your friendship even further. By the end of the month, however, after going to the doctors appointments with Santana seeing a new extremely caring side to her, you're convinced that this is what you want.
That day following the appointment you grasp her hand and outside the docs office and you profess your love to her.
She smiles at you her dimples showing the unmistakeable gleam of love in her eyes, "I love you too, Quinn. A lot more than I've ever loved anyone"
She kneels then kissing your belly, "Of course I love my Santana Jr, too"
"I think Quinn Jr is a better name" you mock her.
She chuckles then standing up and kissing you deeply and breathes against your lips, "Yeah, in theory. In practice Santana Jr. is a better name"
You cannot remember ever feeling this happy. You and Santana will be a family and this marriage, it's the most real thing you have.
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"This might be a little cold." the physician tells you. You lay there patiently holding Santana's hand.
When the soft thumping fills the air you can't help but be mesmerized seeing the 3D image of your baby on the screen.
"Well he looks like a worm." says Santana her voice strained.
You look at her and laugh, "No, stop. She's flawless! Like her mothers"
She quirks a brow and tilts her head slightly, reminiscent of that fateful night all those years ago. Then she says, "Definitely a flawless worm"
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The birth is a lot different than you expected. You're at work typing on your desktop and suddenly your water breaks. You try not to worry. You call in your assistant and soon you're in the emergency room.
Santana runs into the room, breathing heavily. "Holy shit, I told you not to work about a month ago Quinn!"
"I'm pregnant not disabled Santana!"
When you finally dilate you feel the life being sucked out of you and then the screech fills the air.
Your baby has been born then you pass out, your last blur is Santana frantically screaming, "Stay with me"
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The bright lights you wake up to make you shudder. You sigh even in child birth, you and San refused to do it properly.
You turn and see Santana cradling your child and your heart skips a beat.
"You're up" she says, "I was so scared I'd loose you, our baby is intersex, like me" she says.
"I haven't named her yet, I didn't know which name would be suitable"
"Well, what about Hope?"
"I don't know, Q. That's a little clichéd" she laughs, the baby resting on her chest.
"Come on it has a nice ring to it! " you say groggily.
"I don't like if as a first name, I like the name Isabel. It's spelled the same in Spanish and in English— Hope could be her middle name" when she smiles at you like that you can't help but agree.
"Bring her over her!"
She guides a lightly tanned baby to you, adjusting her on your chest, "hold her head"
You get a good glimpse at the child. Your child. You breath hitches, she is absolutely stunning she has dirty blonde patch of hair on her head. Her nose looks just like Santana's and she has your eye shape. Though you doubt her eye color will match your own. You hope her eyes are a deep brown like San's. Perhaps the contrast to her hair color would be nice.
You don't know when you cry, you're just aware of the teardrops running down your cheeks and onto her head. You feel San wipe your tears and you gently kiss your baby on her forehead.
"You may want to feed her ma'am", a nurse tells you.
You do just that and you've never felt a connection to your child or anyone, like in this moment when little Isa is eating.
Santana then lightly burps her and she lets you know that you're going to be released tomorrow morning.
Despite you insisting she goes home with Isa, she refuses, preferring to go home with you and Isabel as a family.
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Luckily, both you and Santana are on maternity leave and you have over a year now since you didn't use the time during your pregnancy so you and Santana are dealing with each other a lot more.
It's hard to know why but you're moody. You thought this was what you wanted. You know this is what you wanted.
You know that eventually, you'll end up going back to work because you refuse to flat out depend on your partner like Judy Fabray, though may she rest in peace.
You know it's ironic considering your economic dependence to Santana led you to this marriage and unknowingly to your child and recuperating a sense of the family you had.
But something isn't quite right, you're on edge more often than not. It seems as if you're constantly fighting to get out of a rabbit hole. The thoughts swirling your head consist of simply reliving your past mistakes. Among those is Beth, how you wish you'd never had her just so that you wouldn't have to loose her. You feel as if part of your sadness stems from nurturing this new, different child, and not being able to give that to your first born disregarding that she was a product of rape. Dammit, she was your child.
You sigh, this is odd. You doubted you'd find yourself in this predicament, everything had fallen into place, you were with the woman you loved, a partner incomparable to any of your former ones— you knew Santana deeply loves you. Shit, you know you love her too. You have no right to feel sad. You have everything anyone could ever hope for, but here you are.
The screeching forces you to chug your coffee and run down to Isa's room. Leaning over her cradle you observe her for all of two seconds, her pudgy fists reach for you and you pick her up and rock her gently.
God, this baby sure has Santana's pipes. You just knew she would be a singer when she grew up. You gently rock her, cooing and willing her cries to subside.
"C'mon Isabel don't cry, your screeching makes the angels cry", you say to her. She must understand you because her eyes widen and she giggles.
To say you're shocked is an understatement, but you can't deny that this baby is the best thing to happen to you. It's almost as if she senses your distress and attempts to pull you from your nagging thoughts, by crying or simply giggling or pulling on your long blonde hair like she is now.
You have a light headache from her loud cries, you think to yourself about your own stupidity, "thinking 'trust me' was a sensible birth control option"
You immediately reject thinking that, Isabel is your family and you love her. Even if you're sleep deprived, plus you just got through saying just how she manages to bring out happiness out of you more often than not.
Who cares if you're sleep deprived? The most rewarding thing is seeing your baby happy and healthy, and Santana happy by extension.
Where is Santana though? You thought she'd be here by now.
You carry your Isa to the couch, set on feeding her. You hear the door opening or specifically the keys jiggling in the knob; when she walks in with a sour scowl on her face, you could tell she's angry.
Her ponytail is almost intact, save for the fact that her sweaty hair clings to her forehead. She's wearing her nike gear, her abs glistening, her round chest tightly held in her sports bra and her running pants. Though you're sure she's wearing her compression shorts.
She rushes from her morning jog into the kitchen where she pours herself water noisily. You know that Isa shouldn't be here when Santana's angry, it's just bad energy your innocent girl doesn't need to be around. You sigh, you'll have to talk to San about that later.
She walks into the living room then and her lips curl up slightly, and her shoulder's de-tensing. She reacts to you, kissing your forehead then your lips.
"I'm calm, Q." She says exhaling from her nostrils.
She reaches for Isa, you always love seeing her with your child. Besides you know that she'll be calm with the baby. She's a source of comfort for both of you.
"What happened?, you ask her.
"Tabloids. I don't know why I let it get to me. It's just that I don't want you to ever doubt my faithfulness and some of these articles are convincing. It's just that I thought getting married would solve the groupie issue too, but it didn't and now I'm just freaking out. I don't want that to get between our family"
You link hands and lean on her shoulder, "I don't doubt your faithfulness. Besides this is mine"
You reach over and gently pat her there. She chuckles smoothly kissing your forehead, "Not a good idea when Isa is in the room" she says moving your hand.
"How's your day been though?"
"My parents anniversary is coming up and I want to go to Lima and introduce them to Isa", you tell her. "I also want them to meet my wife"
"Anything you need. Is that why you seem so lost in your thoughts lately? I know you don't like opening up but you did marry me and that's totally my duty now. Well, not that its obligatory and I'm forced to do it. I wanna hear you, I mean you were my homegirl before my wife" she tells you, feeding Isa her bottle.
You didn't think she would notice that. At all. You smile softly and kiss her cheek, Santana really knows you too well.
"I don't know I guess it might be. I just get lost in my thoughts. I think of Beth and how I could have not had her. I know it sounds selfish, but losing her to another woman was the worst thing that's ever happened. She was my family when my parents tossed me out. Not to say that you and Isa aren't enough. I just feel sad all the damn time. Now I have you and Isa and I love that we're a family. I just wish I'd given Beth that opportunity"
"Quinn, you gave Beth her best option at the time. I'm proud of you, you put her first and that's how I know you truly love your child Q!
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You walk to the cemetery in hand with Santana, she's wearing one of those baby bags strapped to her chest and she looks like a dork, a dork you love though and she does look rather sexy with the whole 'mom' vibe she has going on.
You reach your destination, "Mom, dad this is Santana. My sworn enemy in high school, but my savior and wife now. God, mom she's not the girl I'd go home crying because of. She really does care for me now. We have a baby and now I have a family of my own. My baby's name is Isa Hope Fabray-Lopez and she's everything mom."
You feel Santana squat next to you, she pats the tombstone and sets the roses down. 'Hi Mr. and Mrs. Fabray. Don't worry about your daughter, she can handle herself and she has me for anything she needs. I love her and our baby. I hope you know that I always did love Quinn. I was settling until I re-found her. Thank you for guiding her to New York— to me that night."
The wind blows and the autumn leaves bristle and you feel like you've finally found that inner peace and validation you were seeking. You feel as if everything is going to be better.
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"Hey Q. I did something. But before you freak out let me explain. I was able to hire someone to track down Shelby and Beth. They live in Manhattan. We can totally visit them if you want. i've got their contact info and everything. but it's only if you're comfortable I don't want to force you or anything"
You kiss her, effectively shutting her up. "Thank you! I would love to see her. I don't want to be that teen mom that never visits her child. Gosh she must be ten now!"
Then, Isa's soft cries fill the air, you go into her room and pick her up, damn. You need to change her diaper. San walks in then just before you remove her diaper, "Wait, you need to hold down her penis, Quinn!" She rushes but its too late.
As soon as the chilly air reaches her, a jet stream of urine splashes Quinn's jaw and your arm and the whole wooden floor.
"Damn"
"Oh, don't blame me. I don't have a penis as a reference okay and normally she's done peeing when I change her. Plus, you change her like eighty percent of the time."
"I wasn't going to say that. Damn, does my girl have a good aim. We best make sure she doesn't knock up any girls with that perfect aim", she wipes your face with her sleeve then reaches for a wipe and cleans your face.
Finally, you add the powder to her diaper and she's set to go.
"I can't believe she's already two months old!" Quinn says, tearing up.
"Well, it really does pass by quickly."
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You walk hand in hand with Santana to this scholarly meet up. Your magazine department decided to include a psychology section, and you're pretty excited.
Until you see their new hire, Professor Smith from Yale's undergrad psych department. You gasp, he's the professor you had that affair with all those years ago, when you were a naive freshmen.
Santana turns to you furrowing her eyebrows, "What's going on?"
"That's— that's Professor Smith." you whisper.
When she quirks her brow, you sigh, "Professor Patches"
"Ahh, hell nah. The one you'd have quickies with in his office couch?" she asks bitterly.
"No, you just insinuated that. We dated—"
"You said that his wife hadn't touched him in three years. Of course, I assumed you were helping him in that department. What is he, like in his mid-forties now? Probably can't even get it up—"
"Santana! Why are you saying this? You know, I'm with you now. We have a child—" you try to placate her, perhaps her jealousy was something she'd never grow out of, it wasn't flattering, it was obnoxious and uncalled for.
"Right, a child we didn't even plan for. Whatever" She stops herself, sometimes her snark escapes her before she could reel it in.
"You don't mean that. You know what we have is real. I'm not even going to get mad at you, you're clearly not thinking right." You turn to leave but she grasps your wrist.
"I'm sorry, Quinn. It's just the thought of you with anyone else bothers me. I just really love you is all. I love you and Isa so much." she pleads with her soft brown eyes and you cannot stay irritated at her.
"Then don't doubt my faithfulness, ever. I have never doubted yours" you kiss her until cough disturbs you.
"Mrs. Fabray-Lopez, I want to introduce you to a new coworker, a very accomplished Dr. Smith"
You turn towards your former professor, he looks bad. He tries to smile charmingly until a flicker of recognition flashes through his blue eyes. "Ms. Fabray, long time no see! She was my student at Yale" he exclaims to your boss.
"Mrs. Lopez, now" you say tilting your head at Santana. "I just got married, she's Santana my wife"
Santana takes advantage of the moment to set her hand down on your waist, claiming you. You internally roll your eyes, her possessive behavior is slightly annoying though it is cute.
The rest of the night goes by, you smile at guests and co-workers and they fawn over rapper and producer Santana Lopez, asking how you landed her.
When Santana establishes how much of a catch you are with so much passion, you're convinced that she truly loves you.
That night you arrive to the babysitter and when you see Isa pulling San's hair you can't help but observe the scene unfolding before you.
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"Why did you leave me?" Beth asks you with wide hazel eyes. She's your exact replica and thank God she looks nothing like that pig, Puck.
"Well, I didn't want to, but I was young and I couldn't offer you the best life. Shelby could, your mom could" you choke up at the word mom, wistful thinking for her to refer to you as mom anytime soon.
"You're my biological mother. Can I just call you mom? I just feel weird calling you Quinn, you're an adult and well first names are kinda weird. It makes me uncomfortable"
"Of course, Beth.""That baby Santana's holding, is she my sister?" Her eyes light up and you smile.
"That's your sister alright" you wave San over and Beth ooo's at her.
"She's pretty." she pulls you aside. "I wish you'd kept me, but I understand. Momma is the best person you could have chosen to raise me. Thank you"
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From that point on your closet has no skeletons and you are free. Beth visits and sleeps over frequently, she loves Santana and you can't help but be grateful for this.
You work now, your job is everything you could have dreamed of and Shelby has offered to babysit when you and San work. It is extremely helpful and the bonus is that your daughters get to bond.
You're positive that you're not deserving of this positivity in your life. But for once, you will not question it. You will live and enjoy life with your family. Lord knows, you have the best partner, friend and daughters in the world. You're better now, at least you make a conscious effort for them. Until, finally things really have fallen into place— spiritually, emotionally and mentally.
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A/N:
It's been a year! A lot of you have encouraged me to continue writing.
I'd like to thank all who reviewed "She's More.." I just saw it and I am overwhelmed/ overjoyed that some of you really did enjoy it. I'd really like to thank theluckyquil, Sash, Jerseygirl and Des in particular. Your comments slapped some sense into me and gave me the reality check I needed.
I will add an additional chapter to this piece if enough of you request it!