The second time Santana showed up on Quinn's doorstep, she immediately let her in; the rims of her eyes were red, and filled with tears. It looked as if she had been out because her clothes were skin tight, and the only time she ever wore those kinds of things was when she was with Brittany.
Santana spun to face Quinn as soon as she shut the door, "I need to get wasted," she exclaimed.
Quinn's head nodded towards the kitchen, "everything is in the top drawer on the left."
Santana matched off into the kitchen, and Quinn took a seat in the living room; she appeared around the corner a few moments later. It looked as if she had no trouble finding the strongest alcohol they had, and set a full bottle of tequila and two shot glasses down in front of Quinn and started pouring until they were filled to the point of overflowing. Quinn actually wasn't planning on drinking, but at this point, she had the right mind not to reject anything Santana offered her. She gave the tequila one last apprehensive glance and raised it to her lips, tipping it up. Quinn grimaced as the liquor licked flames all the way down her throat.
The second she set her glass down, Santana was filling it up and motioning for her to drink again.
They drank until they literally could not drink anymore; the bottle was drained, and soon enough, Santana was wrapping herself around Quinn. She began drawing random patterns on her back in an effort to keep her clam, because sorrow as inevitable, but in time, Santana began to cry; the kind that shook her whole body until she couldn't breathe and had to gasp for air. After a while of silent sobbing she raised her head to look at Quinn, the overhead lights reflected in the tears that still threatened to fall from her eyes and black makeup was smeared down her cheeks.
"Can you please-please just make everything stop for a while?" she stuttered, and tears began to fall in cascades again, "just make me forget?"
Santana whimpered a few times and Quinn shushed her with nonsense sounds. She raised her off the couch with gentle hands and led her upstairs to her bedroom.
Once there, she undressed Santana and herself slowly. Quinn's hands felt every inch of uncovered skin; she worked with purpose, and touches that soothed and reassured. She wanted to bring her fully to the moment, allowing only her and Santana to be in the room. No Brittany.
When Santana's trembling had subsided and her eyes were no longer threatening to overflow, she gently laid her down on the mattress and let her fingers move over her skin in swirls. It wasn't long until Santana was arching and gasping into Quinn, her hips rocking and body shivering for entirely different reasons. They balanced on each other's hips, tangled in sheets and skin slick with sweat as hands clutched and mouths explored there limits. They worked their way around the pain until the ghosts were almost gone, and Santana was consumed in Quinn's gleaming skin; scars and all. When they were both where they needed to be, and nothing was left except for sighs, groans, and heavy eyelids, Quinn wrapped herself around Santana once more, and they both fell asleep so fast, both of them could've considered it a dream in itself.
The fan swirls in a circle over and over again and Quinn is not quite sure how long she's been awake. The clock that is closer to Santana has been knocked on the floor, she assumes, because it is no longer where it usually is. Her guess is that she got angry at the sound of the alarm and swatted it until it either shut up, or eventually fell. She can't help but grin at the thought, but it quickly reminded that she has a sleeping body on top of her.
Quinn looks down to find a blob of black hair on her chest, a hand across her ribs, and a thigh across her own. She shifts a little bit, but settles back down just as fast. Her breathing is so steady and she feels amazingly warm; she spends a few more minutes just lying there and soaking it all in. The sun is beginning to shine through the blinds, casting long shadows and peaks of gold all over her room. Quinn tries to sneak out from under Santana, but she's heavy and still asleep. She makes a dissatisfied noise, but motions off just enough for Quinn to squeeze out. She sighs, moving across to Quinn's side of the bed to find the warmth that left just a few seconds earlier.
Quinn slips on her robe and takes one last look at Santana before heading downstairs. Her chest rises and falls at an even pace. She can barely see her face beneath all of her hair and her legs and sprawled with her arms under her pillow. How did she get so lucky?
She's halfway done with the pancakes when she spots Santana coming down the stairs. She's rubbing her eyes, and has the sheets from the bed wrapped around her body.
"Morning, Sunshine."
"Mmm, good morning." Her voice is hoarse and sexy.
Quinn's eyes size Santana up; she just has her undergarments on, and one of Quinn's flannel shirts, which is unbuttoned exposing her dark skin. Quinn looks back down at the pancakes, and squeaks when she realizes she's nearly burnt one. Santana finds a seat on the stool across the other side of the counter and watched Quinn. Her head is lazily placed on her palm, and her hair is a complete mess. Quinn tries to hide her smile, but simply cannot.
"What?" Santana asks almost instantly.
Quinn nods in her direction, taking note of the small pattern of bunny heads all over Santana's chest, "You're wearing Playboy Bunny underwear."
"Oh," Santana breathes, almost in relief, "Yeah, I kind of stole it from Brit…" she trails off, and stares down at the counter; Quinn can almost see her moments later, crying in her shoulder, and swiftly sets two pancakes on a plate and sets it in front of her.
"Eat up," she almost commanded, and instead of a tears streaming down her face, Santana smiled.
"Thanks a lot Fabray," she said, and grabbed her hand, "it means a lot to me. I shouldn't really show up on your doorstep a mess and shit. I'm lucky enough to have someone as good as you. Plus you're parents are like, never home," she adds with a smirk.
"Well, anytime," she grins, and leans in to kiss Santana before she can really have any time to take a bite, "but I really don't want to be just a friend with benefits, you know. That's not a relationship Santana. Not to me anyways. Maybe you should like, broaden you're horizon and see people other than Brittany. I mean sure, she great, and she's got the best mindset I've ever seen, but-"
"She's not you," Santana cuts in, and meets Quinn's eyes. "It's different with you. Sex means something different to you. It's sort of there to comfort and bring me down to earth. With Brittany it's just…"
"I know," Quinn says and leans in to kiss her again, "it's just different."
The kiss is sweet, and filled with something Quinn or Santana have ever felt. Maybe, just maybe, it's the thing that will finally solve everything; The thing that will stop Santana's pain, and fill that hole in Quinn's heart that Finn, Sam or Puck could never seal. Quinn feels Santana smile in between it all, and she knows she's exactly where she needs to be; and there's no place she'd rather be.
