A/N: Canon up to 4x14, since most of this was written shortly after that episode aired.
It was only supposed to be a "two-time thing", but that idea quickly went out the window when they realized how beneficial their Cheerios training was in terms of lasting stamina. Needless to say, they wore themselves out that night, waking up sore yet wholly satisfied the next morning.
But even so, Quinn makes a promise to herself to make sure that it remains a one night thing, no matter how good Santana made her feel. It was a night of harmless fun – nothing more, nothing less.
Quinn needs it to be simple. Her schedule is always demanding, due to her full course load and part-time job at a bookstore just off campus. She clearly has no time for any romantic entanglements. Plus, she doesn't even want a relationship and she's pretty sure Santana's enjoying the single life in New York.
In the end, Quinn's just happy to leave Lima with one positive sexual experience finally under her belt.
So when Quinn wakes up in her Yale dorm room weeks later, unbidden images of tan skin, dark hair, and full lips floating through her mind, she sighs in frustration and defeat. She knows now that that night was anything but simple.
The dreams have plagued her since "the wedding". Waking up with an uncomfortable ache between her legs becomes an almost everyday occurrence. She can't stop thinking about Santana. She can't stop thinking about the smooth skin of her back as their lithe bodies moved together in tandem. Quinn closes her eyes as the memories of breathy whimpers and soft sighs seep into her mind.
She fights the desire to slip her hand into her underwear and relieve this unwanted tension. But the battle is lost when the image of Santana coming apart – eyes closed, back arched, Quinn's name on her lips – invades her thoughts. Times like these, she's glad her roommate is almost never around.
It doesn't take much to bring her over the edge and she hates herself for letting Santana get to her like this. Santana's always had a sort of power over her. She's always been able to see right through the carefully concealed cracks in Quinn's armour. She knows just what to say in order to get a rise out of her, and no matter how hard Quinn tries to not take the bait, things always seem to end in petty arguments, violence, or – in this case – sexual frustration.
She hasn't spoken to Santana since the wedding and she counts that as a plus. She and Santana have never really been the type of friends to call each other every night, regaling one another with stories about their day. This continued radio silence is normal for them, and Quinn needs things to stay that way. She's desperate to get Santana out of her head once and for all.
So Quinn deals with this the only way she knows how – by ignoring it and throwing herself into something, anything else. She focuses on her schoolwork, determined to get a head start on all her readings and assignments. She picks up as many shifts as she can at the bookstore. She joins clubs, goes to poetry readings, and gets tipsy with a few girls from her study group.
But in spite of all her efforts, Santana still somehow manages to needle her way into Quinn's thoughts. Any downtime she has at the store is spent daydreaming of that night - the way Santana would smirk with such arrogance every time had Quinn begged her to just let her come.
She remembers Santana underneath her, eyes closed and breathless, with a small yet satisfied smile on her face. Quinn remembers how proud of herself she had been in that moment.
After another frustratingly sleepless night Quinn is finally ready to admit that she might actually want to have sex with Santana again. She doesn't know why. Well...part of the reason probably has to do with how hot Santana is. Quinn may not be gay, but she's not blind either.
So she doesn't quite know whether to be relieved or terrified when Santana shows up at her dorm unexpectedly one night, with an overnight bag and a bottle of whiskey. Quinn hates whiskey. Santana knows this, which would probably explain the amused look on her face when she sees Quinn eye the bottle with distaste.
But before Quinn can say anything, Santana pushes her way past her saying, "Suck it up, blondie. We're getting drunk tonight. No questions."
It's hours later, and Santana still hasn't offered any explanation for her presence. Needless to say, Quinn's confused, but she's also drunk, and the sight of Santana drunkenly singing along to Etta James' version of "Let's Burn Down the Cornfield" isn't doing anything to help the tingling in her belly.
Quinn is sitting on her desk chair, facing the room, when Santana saunters up to her singing the last few notes of the song. Every move she makes is so deliberate and sensual, it's enough to simultaneously terrify Quinn and drive her crazy with desire.
Santana smirks at Quinn and she thinks she's smiling back, but she can't be sure. Her whole body's numb – except her thighs, apparently, since she can feel Santana's hands working their way up from her thighs to her hips. Quinn leans back in her chair as far as she can go, but Santana follows her every move. Quinn's hands are glued to the arm rests and she can feel Santana's breath ghosting over her cheeks. She moves suddenly, straddling Quinn on the chair, wrapping her arms around her neck.
"What are you-"
"I thought I said no questions," Santana says quickly.
And then she is kissing her.
It takes a moment for Quinn to react, but when her brain finally catches up to the situation, she responds eagerly. She wraps her arms around Santana's waist, bringing their bodies closer. Her senses are firing on all cylinders. She feels overwhelmed and betrayed by her body, but she can't bring herself to care. Not when Santana's lips move down her jaw to her neck. Not when Santana's hands slowly palm at her chest.
This wasn't supposed to happen again. But she wants Santana. Quinn wants her so much that it scares her. The logical part of her brain is screaming at her to stop this, to not let it get any further than it already has. But she seems to have lost control of her body as her hands slide up Santana's back to the zip of her dress, desperate for more skin.
Their kisses are hungry. They're both drunk and uncoordinated, and every movement they make is harsh and forceful. Quinn thinks it's fitting. Even when they fuck, they're rivals; constantly trying to one-up each other. Constantly trying to gain the upper hand.
It's rough and passionate. They scratch and bite, moaning wantonly into each other's mouths. Their movements are almost frantic as they move towards the bed, leaving marks all over each other's body.
It'd be easy to chalk this up as just another drunken hookup. But they do it again the next night, fully sober but no less passionate, and then a bunch more times before Santana has to leave for New York.
What they don't do is talk about it. And in the quiet of her dorm, a few hours after Santana has left, Quinn is more confused than she's ever been.
A week after the encounter, Quinn travels to New York intent on finding out what exactly is going on. They still haven't discussed anything and Quinn wants to know why Santana showed up in New Haven, fucked her brains out, and then left. She's completely determined to have all her questions answered.
But the first thing Santana does when she sees Quinn is push her roughly against the door of the loft, attach their lips in a frenzied kiss, and slide her hand up Quinn's dress. Quinn's resolve is broken shortly after.
Hours later, when they're both naked and sated in Santana's bed, she finally gathers the courage to ask her what the hell is going on.
"I thought it was pretty obvious," Santana replies with a lecherous grin.
"I'm being serious."
"So am I. I'm great at sex, you're...pretty good," Quinn rolls her eyes, but lets Santana continue, "and we're clearly amazing at it together. Does it have to be anything more than that?"
Quinn seriously contemplates the question for a moment and she finds that she's unable to come up with an answer. She doesn't even want to fathom the implications of wanting more than just sex with her best friend. She knows she's on dangerous ground right now; walking a fine line between the vaguely familiar and the complete unknown.
One thing she can say for sure is that she does not want to stop having sex with Santana. So she agrees that, no, it doesn't have to be anything more than what they already have.
When Santana smiles and places a gentle kiss to her lips, Quinn pretends she didn't just tell one of the biggest lies of her life.
That's how it all starts. They try and visit each other as much as their schedules will allow, and each time Quinn has to bury the feelings that are constantly simmering beneath the surface. It was easy to ignore them at first since she would just let herself get carried away with the physical nature of their encounters.
But then she starts missing Santana when she's not around. And it's not just the sex she craves, but the quiet moments in between, when it's just the two of them lying together in bed talking about whatever comes to mind. She cherishes every moment spent together, but she loves those moments especially. There's an openness to Santana that other people rarely get to see. And Quinn feels so privileged to get to experience this side of her.
It takes about two months for Quinn to actually admit to herself that she wants more than just the casual fucking. She wants to be with Santana. Like, really be with her in more than just a friends-with-benefits situation. She wants the sleepy morning kisses, the anniversaries, the breakfasts in bed. She wants every disgustingly sappy thing that comes with being in a serious relationship. And she wants it with Santana Lopez, of all people. Santana, who is probably still in love with her other best friend, and is using Quinn as a placeholder until they can be together again.
She feels like she's going insane.
The rational part of her brain is constantly telling her to end this arrangement; that it isn't healthy and she's wasting her feelings on someone who doesn't feel the same way and probably never will. But her stupid, stupid heart just can't let it go. She knows that she'll never be more than just a friend to Santana, but she doesn't care. She'll willingly take whatever Santana gives.
She hates that she's so pathetically lovestruck, and sometimes she thinks she's found the resolve to put a stop to what they've begun, but then Santana will show up at her dorm with a pizza, wearing nothing but a trench coat, and Quinn's right back to where she started.
It's a few months after the initial encounter. They're in New Haven and Quinn is straddling Santana's waist with three of Santana's fingers buried deep within her. She's so close to the edge, she grips the headboard and squeezes her eyes shut, driving herself towards release.
She thinks she hears Santana call her name, but she's not sure. Her senses are too overwhelmed, her body is too desperate. But then she feels a hand on her hip, trying to slow down her movements. She groans in frustration as she hears, "Quinn, look at me."
Her hips are still in motion, but the movements are not as frantic as they were moments before. She opens her eyes to see Santana staring straight up at her with an intensity Quinn hasn't seen before.
Santana reaches up, bringing Quinn's face down for a heated kiss. It's slow and passionate. Their tongues tangle together and Quinn doesn't know whether she wants to laugh or cry - everything just feels so perfect. She's desperate for release but she also doesn't want this moment to end. She moans into Santana's mouth as Santana flips them over, reversing their positions.
She begins slowly thrusting her fingers again, and Quinn can do nothing else but hold on. Her nails dig into Santana's back as she's pushed closer and closer to the edge. Their eyes are still locked together, the fervor between them growing.
Something has changed. Quinn can't quite put her finger on it, but there is something different in the way Santana's looking at her. This moment feels heavy and important, and she wants to know why, but Santana's fingers are making it too hard to focus.
The last thing she's aware of, before the orgasm overtakes her, is the look in Santana's eyes as they bore into her own. Her head tips back, her arms pull Santana close, and she comes so loudly she's sure to get a noise complaint from her neighbours.
When she finally comes back to herself several moments later, it's to Santana laying on her side, observing Quinn carefully. She's unusually quiet. Quinn turns to face her and reaches forward to play with Santana's fingers.
The weight of the moment still lingers and Quinn doesn't quite know how to proceed.
"Hey," she says quietly, hoping Santana will now take the lead. But she doesn't respond. She just watches their tangled fingers for a moment before pulling her hand away and lying on her back.
Quinn can't help the sinking feeling that starts low in her gut. Santana looks just as lost as Quinn feels, and she doesn't need to guess the reason why.
"Brittany and Sam broke up," Santana says, staring at the ceiling.
It's the first time either of them have said Brittany's name since this whole thing began. It's like they knew that bringing her into this arrangement would be the catalyst that changed everything.
"Oh?" is all Quinn can think to say in response. A part of her has been expecting this conversation for a while now, but that doesn't mean she's prepared to face it.
"Yeah. She called me last week."
"Hm. How is she?"
"She's good. You know Brittany. She doesn't like to waste time on being sad."
"So what happened? Are you two going to get back together?"
Santana doesn't answer. She just lays there, staring at the ceiling as if it's holding all the answers.
"Santana?"
She turns her head to look at Quinn seriously. "What are we doing?" she asks.
It seems like such a simple question, but Quinn has no idea how to answer it. She knows what she wants to say, but she's scared. She can't be the one to put her feelings into words and say them out loud. She can't be the one to put herself out there because the potential consequences are just too dire to take that risk.
Everything about this moment is so tenuous that any misstep could send her crashing into the terrifying unknown. She doesn't know if she's ready for that, so she plays dumb all in the name of self-preservation.
"Well, we're lying in bed, talking about your ex," she replies.
"Don't be a smartass. You know what I mean."
"No, I don't know what you mean. What we're doing is simple. You said it yourself. You good at sex, I'm good at sex, we're great at sex together. That's all this is."
Santana shakes her head and sighs before saying, "She wants to get back together."
Quinn's heart constricts in her chest and she fights to keep her voice steady. "What did you say?"
"I said I wasn't sure. I said I needed time to think."
That throws Quinn for a loop.
"And you thought you could do that here?" She can't believe what she's hearing. She's angry, even though she has no right to be. She's known since the beginning that this was always a possible outcome; that Brittany would come calling and Santana would eventually follow. But she didn't expect it to be so soon.
"You needed time to think about getting back together with your ex, so you decide to come to Yale and fuck me in my dorm? What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you really here?"
Her voice cracks and her hands are shaking. She's tries to hide it as best she can, but she feels like she's moments away from falling apart completely.
Santana looks away and a long silence stretches between them. Quinn holds her breath, unsure of the response she actually wants. Unsure of which answer would terrify her less.
It was easier when it was just sex, but the thought of Santana once again falling into Brittany's arms just sends her into overdrive. She doesn't want to wait for an answer.
"You need to leave."
Santana looks like she wants to protest but Quinn is already out of bed and getting dressed as fast as she can.
"I'm gonna take a walk," she says as she slips her shoes on. "You need to be gone when I get back."
She takes one final glance at Santana, who is staring at her with pleading eyes, before closing the door behind her.
She comes back to an empty room, hours later, and hates that she's disappointed by it. She tries to tell herself it's for the best, but the ache in her chest and the tears that won't stop, do nothing but tell her otherwise.
Things will never go back to the way they were. Too much has changed. She knows Santana was able see how vulnerable she was before she left, so hiding her true feelings underneath the guise of "meaningless" sex is no longer a viable option.
She regrets acting like a coward that day; choosing to run instead of hashing everything out. But she wants to make up for it now. So she makes up her mind a week later; packing a bag and travelling to New York intent on laying everything all out on the table.
There's no one at the loft when she gets there, so she waits outside, writing and rewriting her intended speech to Santana. An hour passes, and she's almost at her wits end. She tries calling, but it always goes straight to voicemail.
Rachel arrives about an hour after that. By this point, Quinn is so on edge, she feels like she's about to burst at the seams. Rachel looks surprised to see her, but senses Quinn's instability as she unlocks the door and motions Quinn inside.
"Where's Santana?" Quinn demands.
"She's not here," Rachel says once she closes the door behind her.
Quinn rolls her eyes. "Obviously. I'm not a complete idiot. When will she be home?"
"No, I mean she's not in New York."
"What do you mean? Where is she?"
"She's, uh, she's in Lima right now."
"Lima? What is she doing-" Quinn's confusion fades quickly. "Oh right. Brittany," she says quietly. She feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice-cold water onto her head. The adrenaline that had been coursing through her has ceased, and she's left lightheaded, with a deep ache in her chest.
She thought she had more time.
"I'm sorry, Quinn." Rachel looks at her with sad eyes, and it takes everything within Quinn to not smack the look off of her face.
"Why the fuck are you sorry?"
"It's just...you and Santana have been spending a lot of time together recently. I just thought-"
"Whatever," Quinn interrupts. "I don't have time your conspiracy theories."
She tries to play it off like she wasn't just about to finally spill her heart out to Santana. She steels herself before turning towards the door. "I'm going to get out of here," she says as calmly as she can. "I don't want to miss my train."
"You don't have to leave, Quinn. You came all this way. We can talk," Rachel says it so sincerely that Quinn almost considers it, but she doesn't want to stay in New York any longer than she has to.
"Thanks Rachel, but I just need to be alone right now."
"Okay." She sounds reluctant to let her go but she thankfully doesn't press the issue. "Just promise me you'll call if you need anything."
"Yeah, sure." Quinn turns to leave but pauses before saying, "Please don't tell her I was here."
She's out the door as soon as Rachel promises to keep her secret.
Months go by with no word from Santana, and Quinn still can't decide if it's a blessing or a curse. She stays in New Haven for the summer and keeps herself busy by taking summer classes and working more shifts at the bookstore. But even now, after all the heartbreak and tears, she can't get Santana out of her mind.
She's reminded of a time, before this had even started, before the whole "arrangement" had even begun. Back when all they had was that one night in a hotel room in Lima.
She remembers doing anything she could to forget the taste of Santana's lips and the smooth curves of her body. She remembers how pointless her efforts were, even then, because no matter how hard she tried to fight it, Santana always found a way under her skin. And Quinn was always powerless to resist.
Some things have changed since then. She does still tries to make it so that Santana doesn't fully occupy her thoughts on a daily basis, but now, at least she can say she's no longer mired in confusion. She's grateful, because she can now use the fact that she has defined and acknowledged her feelings for Santana, as a way to try and move forward.
It's a cool autumn evening, a few weeks into Quinn's sophomore year at Yale. She's walking back to her dorm, her arms full of textbooks, when she sees her. Santana is sitting on a bench just outside the dormitory entrance, staring intently at her phone.
Quinn is so shocked that she freezes in place. Santana must sense her presence because she chooses that moment to look up from her phone and lock eyes with Quinn. A small smile crosses Santana's features before she stands and takes a step forward.
"Hi," she says.
"Hello," Quinn says back, at a complete loss. She hasn't prepared herself for this. She always assumed that the next time she saw Santana would be in New York or Lima, with a fake smile plastered on her face, while Santana's pinky was linked with Brittany's.
"How are you?"
"I'm fine. Busy with classes, obviously," she says, struggling with the heavy books in her arms.
Santana steps forward to help relieve some of the load and moves to sit on the bench she had been previously occupying.
"Thanks," Quinn says quietly, as she sits on the other end and faces forward. It's all she can think to say. She's still so thrown by Santana's sudden appearance.
"Are you liking your classes?" Santana asks turning her body to face Quinn's and resting her elbow on the back of the bench. Quinn can't help but be hyper aware of how close she's sitting.
"Yeah," she says, finally checking back into the conversation. "I'm taking this one philosophy course that's just called Death. It's pretty fun."
Santana laughs at that. "How can someone who has a never ending supply of sundresses be so morbid?"
Quinn smiles. The mood is so light and easygoing that Quinn almost forgets why she hasn't seen Santana in months. Almost.
Quinn lets her smile fade slightly before asking, "Did you really come all this way for small talk?"
"No, but I didn't think you'd appreciate me starting the conversation with 'Quinn, I want to be with you and I think it'd be really great if you were my girlfriend.'"
"What? I- what?" Quinn says loudly, eyes wide and eyebrows raised.
"See? We needed at least 5 more minutes of lame chit-chat before that confession could be considered appropriate."
The sudden topic change is so completely jarring that she's still struggling to keep up with the conversation.
"What?" she says again. "You want me to be your girlfriend? How did this happen?"
"I don't even know," Santana replies, shrugging her shoulders. "I've been asking myself the same question for months. Still can't really explain it, but here we are." She's being so frustratingly nonchalant about the entire situation. Quinn doesn't know whether she wants to slap her or kiss her.
"What about Brittany? I thought you guys were back together."
"We were," Santana nods, seriously. "It didn't work out. I thought- I thought she was what I wanted. That nothing could keep us apart for too long," she takes a breath and continues. "But then there you were. At first I tried to play it off like it was nothing; that we were just having fun." Santana shakes her head and laughs quietly, "But you got under my skin, Fabray, and all I wanted to do was be with you.
"When Brittany called about her breakup with Sam, I was so confused because it was everything I thought I wanted to hear. But you were the first thing I thought of when she told me, and I just couldn't understand why.
"I tried to talk to you about it that day. There was - is - something between us, and I know you felt it too, but you just left. I didn't know what else to do. So, I went back to her, thinking it was what I wanted, but it wasn't the same. We spent too much time apart. We became different people, and all I could think about when I was with her, was you. It took me a while to sort through my feelings and figure out what I actually wanted, and it always came back to you."
Quinn is reeling from all this new information. It's everything she's wanted to hear for so long now, but she has trouble believing it. Brittany has been the love Santana's life for years, and as much as she's been longing to have Santana reciprocate her feelings, she can't help the uncertainty that arises. She's staring at the ground, trying to take everything in.
It's as if Santana can read her mind. Her doubts must be written all over her face because Santana nudges Quinn's cheek gently, coaxing her to meet her eyes.
"I want you, Quinn," she says seriously. "I want only you. And I will do whatever it takes to prove it to you."
It takes everything within Quinn to not breakdown in this moment. She's sitting on a bench outside her dorm, and just takes it all in; the sincerity in Santana's eyes, the determination that radiates off her body. Quinn wants nothing more than to believe her.
She feels like she's back to where she was months before, staring down into the terrifying unknown. Only now it's no longer daunting or oppressive. She's not as afraid of falling anymore. Everything is full of promise because now she knows she's not alone.
She takes a deep breath and lets herself fall.
"Okay," she says simply.
"Okay?" Santana replies, brows furrowed.
Quinn only nods, a soft smile on her face.
"That's it. Just okay? I spill my guts out and that's all you say?"
Quinn just nods again, stifling her laughter.
"Goddammit, Quinn," she says in mock anger, but there is relief in her eyes and Quinn can see the corners of her mouth twitch as she fights off a smile. "You know how long I practiced that speech? I put my heart out on the line for a shitty 'okay'?'"
Quinn is full on laughing now and she sees Santana struggle to keep from cracking. When her laughter dies down a few moments later, they're left staring at each other with small smiles on both their faces
Santana is first to break the silence. "So we're really doing this?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
"Are you sure? It's not too late to back out," she says, placing her palm on Quinn's cheek, drawing her closer.
Quinn leans in, staring at Santana's lips. "I'm sure."
"Okay," she replies simply, before finally closing the distance.
The kiss is slow and full of promise. It's been so long since they've done this, it's almost too overwhelming. Quinn grasps onto the collar of Santana's jacket, grounding herself in this moment, wanting to remember everything about it.
"God, I've missed that," Santana says as they pull apart moments later. She smiles at Quinn for a few seconds before quickly getting to her feet and gathering Quinn's forgotten textbooks. "Now let's get out of here so I can fuck you," she says before walking hurriedly to the dorm entrance. Quinn can only roll her eyes before following.
Without a doubt in her mind, she knows that what started as a two-time thing has turned into one of the scariest most wonderful things that's ever happened to her. There are no admissions of love, but that's okay for right now. It's still too soon for those words anyway. And Quinn doesn't mind, because she can sense it in the way Santana kisses her. She sees it in Santana's eyes and feels it in her touch. And as she leads an impatient Santana to her room, she realizes it's more than enough.
END