Santana wakes to the sound of Quinn quietly gathering her scattered belongings in the midst of getting re-dressed. She sits up, grabs Quinn's hand, and pulls her back onto the bed into a warm embrace.
"Where do you think you're going?" she whispers into Quinn's ear. Her voice is still rough from sleep and Santana can hear Quinn's sharp intake of breath. She smirks in quiet victory.
"It's almost 7. I have to get going if I'm going to make it home in time." Quinn moves to try and resume getting dressed but Santana doesn't let her get far. She wraps her arms tighter around Quinn from behind.
She kisses her neck up to her ear, trying to sneakily undo the buttons on Quinn's shirt. "Or you could stay a little while longer?"
"I can't," Quinn sighs. "You know I can't." But she does nothing to push Santana's hands away. Santana takes this as a good sign.
"Oh, but you can." Her hands reach inside Quinn's now open shirt, running her palms up her stomach before stopping below her breasts. "You're allowed to be late once in a while. Tell him you got caught up at the office." Her hands are cupping Quinn's breasts now, gently massaging them before pinching a nipple.
Quinn's breathing has gotten heavier and Santana knows her resolve is close to breaking, so she licks a line up Quinn's neck before kissing the sensitive spot behind her ear. Quinn's eyes slip shut and she lets out a quiet moan. Santana gives herself an internal high-five before moving off the bed and kneeling in front of Quinn. She stares up into hazel eyes while slowly moving her hands up Quinn's thighs. She moves to pull off the woman's underwear when the moment in interrupted by a phone ringing in the background.
"Ignore it," Santana says quickly, but Quinn's already up and off the bed, searching through her purse for her phone. The look in her eyes is almost apologetic before she turns her back and takes the call.
Santana sighs in defeat before gathering her clothes that have been haphazardly thrown around the hotel room. She tries to listen in on the hushed conversation while attempting to ignore the misplaced feeling of betrayal. She knows she has no right to feel this way, but she can't help it. Every time Quinn walks out on her and into his arms, Santana has to stop herself from either drinking herself into a stupor or going out and fucking the first blonde woman she meets. Sometimes both.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. This whole friends-with-benefits deal was supposed to be simple and fun. There weren't supposed to be any feelings involved. The arrangement had been going on for years; ever since the Valentine's Day wedding fiasco. They even agreed that if either one of them had started wanting more from the other, they'd stop. Maybe even have a rational discussion about it. They'd agreed that their friendship was too important to ruin over silly notions of romance.
Santana wants to laugh about it now. She wants to laugh at how naive they were. Santana Lopez and Quinn Fabray discussing their feelings for each other to each other? Fucking ridiculous. And it's not like she knew right away that she was falling for her friend. By the time she realized how deep she really was, it was too late. Quinn was in a relationship. Quinn was engaged. Quinn was married.
After Quinn and Matthew started getting serious, Santana told herself to stay away. But then Quinn would call her, seduction dripping from her voice and Santana could never find the strength to say no. What they were doing was fucked up, they both knew it, but neither wanted to be the one to end it. So they ignored any lingering doubts they had whenever they were with each other.
And once her own personal feelings for Quinn became more pronounced, Santana tried to ignore those too. She tried to block out whatever her heart was telling her, because anything more than what they had would never work. It's what she tried to convince herself anyway.
But then there were moments; moments that confused and infuriated Santana whenever she allowed herself to think about them. There were moments when she'd wake up with Quinn wrapped in her arms. She'd be so satisfied and content and comfortable that she'd let herself believe that this could be an everyday occurrence. That these quiet moments they shared wouldn't have to be stolen, but could be properly earned and enjoyed.
There were other moments as well; moments after a few rounds of intense fucking. They'd come together again, so tired but still unable to resist the call of the other's body. Their touches would become gentle, almost loving. Their roughness would be replaced by soft caresses, their loud moans of ecstasy replaced by quiet whimpers of desire and affection. In these moments, Santana can't look away from the beauty of an unguarded Quinn. In these moments of gentleness and vulnerability, Santana sometimes thinks she can see something beyond the lust swirling behind Quinn's eyes. It overwhelms and scares her, but it also gives her something to hold onto; some faded semblance of hope. But as Quinn walks back out into the real world hours later, Santana has to convince herself she's reading too much into something that isn't actually there.
Quinn's off the phone now and they're both fully dressed once again. She turns to face Santana and they regard each other silently for a few moments. Santana lets her eyes linger over Quinn's face, still amazed by her effortless beauty, even after all these years. She doesn't want to break the silence, in a misguided attempt to prolong their time together.
Quinn returns the intensity of the gaze before moving towards Santana and kissing her so softly that she's taken aback by the tenderness of it all. They don't usually do this. They don't usually kiss goodbye once their clothes are back on and they're forced to return to their separate lives. But Quinn is holding her now and kissing her so lovingly that Santana can't fight the emotions that are so recklessly trying to break through.
"Don't go," she whispers desperately against Quinn's lips. Her eyes are closed as she holds Quinn's face close to her own.
"I have to," Quinn says, resting their foreheads together. "I'm going to be late."
"Stay with me. Please." She's begging now. She hates that she's begging, but she can't fucking help it. She's in love with her best friend and she knows she won't be able stand seeing her walk out the door without saying something.
This could ruin everything; not only their "arrangement", but their entire friendship. But she just can't take it anymore. Quinn can't just kiss her like that and expect her to not fall harder. She knows, now, that she needs more out of this or she needs to let go. All those moments, those infuriating moments of contentment and gentleness, have been building up to this. Santana's terrified but she can't keep waiting for her feelings to disappear.
Quinn interrupts her thoughts. "He's going on a business trip," she says lightly, taking Santana's hands into her own. "He'll be gone this weekend." Quinn's smiling, giddy at the prospect of being able to be together again so soon, but Santana's shakes her head.
"No. No, I can't–. That's not what I want," she says.
"Oh." A look of disappointment and hurt crosses Quinn's face. "I just thought–"
Santana is quick to cut her off, "I can't do this anymore." She takes a small step back before continuing. "I can't do this...I can't just have you for a few hours and then watch you go back to him."
Tears are beginning to form behind her eyes, but she pushes through. "I'm in love with you, Quinn. I don't know how or when it happened, but it's the truth and I've done everything in my power to fight these goddamn feelings, but I can't do this anymore. It hurts too much. I cherish every moment we have together. I'm so unbelievably happy when we're together, but I die a little every time I have to see you go."
Her tears are flowing freely now and she can't read much of Quinn's expression beyond the obvious shock, so she continues. "Be with me, Quinn. I know it'll be hard at first, I know we can both be horrible bitches but that's why it works between us. We get each other like no one else can. And yeah, we can bring out the worst in each other, but we bring out the best in each other too. Matthew doesn't understand you like I do." She takes a breath. "He doesn't love you like I do."
The name shakes Quinn out of her shocked silence. "Why are you doing this?" she questions. "Why are you telling me this now?" She looks angry and Santana can feel the shame creeping through her bones. "I'm married, Santana. You don't get to tell me how much you love me! You have no right!"
Santana almost flinches at the growing volume of Quinn's voice, but pushes the pain aside as her own anger begins to rise up within her.
"I have no right?" she yells. "Who were you just fucking two hours ago, huh? Whose name were you screaming when you came? Who do you come to when you need to feel wanted?" At these words she can see the defeat and guilt take over Quinn's features so she softens her voice and takes a risk. "Who do you really think about when you're with him?"
Quinn's shock is evident. She opens her mouth to speak but no words come out. Santana nods solemnly. It's not an admission of love, but it's not a denial either. She sighs and moves to sit on the bed. She's exhausted both physically and mentally. This is not how she wanted things to happen, essentially guilting Quinn into, at least, thinking about her true feelings.
But it's the Quinn and Santana way. They've never taken the easy road with each other. Always spewing out harsh truths in order to break the other down and come out on top. Before it was done in an effort to hurt the other in some way. But now, it's just how they've grown to function.
Santana stifles her tears as best she can. She's laid everything out on the table. It's Quinn's move. She looks at the other woman and tries to meet her gaze, but Quinn turns away, hastily wiping her eyes as she moves.
"Please. Please just say something," Santana pleads.
Quinn visibly steels herself. She straightens her back and squares her shoulders before turning to face Santana. Her gaze, however, remains locked on the floor.
"I never meant to lead you on like this," she says robotically, "but you can't just tell me these things and expect me to drop everything to be with you." She takes a deep breath and continues. "I love Matthew. He's my husband and I made a vow to him."
"Fine," Santana says. Her voice is shaky, but she's determined. "That's fine. I can accept that. But only after you look me in the eye and tell me you're not in love with me too."
Quinn's eyes widen and she meets Santana's gaze for the first time in what feels like forever. Santana stares back determinedly, fighting against the cracks that are threatening to show just how terrified and vulnerable she really feels. She braces herself as Quinn opens her mouth to speak.
"No," she says quietly. "I don't have to prove anything to you and I don't have to answer that because it doesn't matter. Obviously we took this...whatever this is, too far." She takes a deep breath before quietly muttering, "I have to go."
It takes a moment for Santana to notice that Quinn is moving towards the door. She runs over and grabs Quinn's arm before she can grip the doorknob.
"Goddamn it, Quinn. Stop being a fucking coward for once in your life! Tell me you don't feel the same way. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't love me."
Quinn takes a shaky breath before meeting her eyes. Santana's heart falls when she sees a cool mask of indifference fall into place. She hasn't seen this mask in years, but she knows what it means and she braces herself for the worst.
"I'm not in love with you, Santana. I never have been and I never will be. I'm sorry you feel that way about me, but I have a husband whom I love very much. You've been a good friend but I don't think we should see each other until you've sorted your feelings out." She says all this is a calm and measured voice. There is no passion behind her words, but she maintains eye contact throughout the entire speech, never faltering. "Now if you'll let go of me, my husband is waiting."
Santana chokes back a sob and lets go of Quinn's arm. She turns away quickly as the door slams shut behind her.
This is what she asked for. She laid herself bare and demanded Quinn do the same. It wasn't the answer she wanted, but what could she do? She couldn't force Quinn to admit her love. But she knows, in her heart, that there is something between them. Something that goes beyond the casual fucking. Something that could be love and happiness and a clichéd white picket fence with 2.5 kids and a black Labrador they just call "dog" because they can't decide on a name. Santana laughs bitterly at herself and her impossible fantasies, feeling so utterly and completely pathetic.
She's alone in a hotel room, sitting on an unmade bed with a newly formed bruise that she can feel on her hip. Proof of Quinn's existence. These things are coupled with a resounding pain in her chest and the sounds of her quiet sniffling. Proof of Quinn's rejection and departure.
She doesn't stick around the hotel for much longer. Only long enough to gather the rest of her belongings and book the quickest flight back to Chicago.
She's on auto-pilot as she makes her way through the airport and onto the plane. She slips on her own mask of indifference, and fights with everything within her to not break down in the middle of a crowded airplane.
She tries to placate herself with temporary words of encouragement. "This has happened before", she thinks. She's professed her love once before and was shot down then, too. She eventually found the strength to get over it, and she can do it again. It is with this thought, she tells herself that she can get through this. This isn't her first tango with heartbreak.
She ignores the fact that her heart was first broken by someone who was Quinn's complete opposite. Someone who treated their relationship like a pit stop. Someone she never really knew at all. A realization she made when the relationship came to a final end.
Santana ignores these details and tells herself that this situation with Quinn is the same and that there is a way out of this heartbreak. It'll take some time, but she'll pick herself up eventually.
She hopes.
