God the couch was comfortable and in minutes she fell asleep. Even with all the thoughts knocking around in her head and from being overwhelmed from the tiredness that miraculously dulled the pain she was out for hours. When she woke up again disoriented and dazed, feeling a déjà vu, she glanced around the room in confusion that quickly turned into annoyance after it sunk in slowly that it was real and that Quinn needed to do many things to ensure that she would find her body; not even trying to think how exactly she was going to be able to get back into it.
It shouldn't be that hard, think rationally, she kept reminding herself over and over, the phrase almost becoming a personal mantra. Ok…so I need to stay here…see if he comes back, I'm sure he's just as overwhelmed as I am, I need to keep the coffee shop open, not have a nervous breakdown, not tell anyone about this before they send me to a mental institution, I need to clean this place if I'm going to stay here, I need to talk to someone before I go out of my mind, I need a shower.
At that last thought the now taller girl decided to get off the couch and take a tour of the loft. A very brief tour considering it was smaller than her apartment. To the right around a corner was the bedroom. To the left of that was a decent sized shower that was sparse and dull, back from where she had come from was the living room that was crowded and seemed small she did a three sixty turn and let her shoulders drop. It was smaller than her place, smelled like a guy and unnerved her. It was messy. Something she couldn't stand. At least she had emailed everyone that employed her to walk their dogs from the crappy computer he kept on the kitchen table. It was slow but she felt better, even through the lies that a family issue had come up and she was going out of town and she apologized in a professional way for not being able to care for their wonderful animals. That part wasn't a lie. Growing up she never had pets. Her father deemed them too tedious and dirty, her mother added her two cents, agreeing in her own way that they had white carpeting and animals would ruin the house, but all the dogs she walked were sweet and sometimes she felt animals were simply better than people. Sadly her parents' standards of clean rubbed off on her, but really Quinn just didn't want to be yelled at or hear a lecture.
Santana had once mocked her that she was secretly related to Emma Pilsbury in high school when Quinn had spend a half hour cleaning her already neat room. What she wouldn't give to be back in her own body, to feel comfortable and not here. Looking over the place again she gazed directly across the living room and into the kitchen which was connected and small. Inside the room was a wooden table with wrappers and trash all over it. At least there were windows throughout the place with its warm light coming in that allowed the place to seem more welcoming than it was after you gave it a second glance. She sighed again, feeling heavy with all the responsibilities, taking care of a shop, being here, basically confined in a prison…
Speaking of responsibilities I need to go and contact all the people about walking their dogs…wonderful, she added sarcastically.
Hopping in the shower after thoughts started to wander after clothes had been discarded in haste she felt some tension roll away. The warmth was a sort of comfort. Deciding to wash her hair, her new hair, she made sure to avoid the gash. With her eyes clothes she refused to look down.
Honestly she couldn't remember the last time she saw a naked guy before, but when she had briefly stood in front of the mirror in the black boxer briefs she was reminded of Finn Hudson. The body seemed similar, lacking muscles, on the soft side and a little pudgy.
"Ugh," she had grumbled, closed her eyes and tilted her head to the ceiling. If there was a god this was cruel punishment. To say it was also unusual seemed overly redundant. But standing in the underwear she looked over the body, purposefully not becoming too comfortable with checking everything over. In the shower she avoided certain body parts all together and decided to check on her arms and stomach, places she worked on in her real body.
After years of cheerleading in school, athletics in middle school and rigorous workout at the gym during college, though she didn't join teams she decided the arms were okay but might need to lift weights. She laughed outwardly, it was bitter. All of these thoughts were an attempt at keeping her sanity. Distracting myself against the idea that she'd never get my body back and she'd be trapped here. J
Just quickly considering it made something in her chest close up and she felt like gasping for air. Okay…change of topic…just wash my hair, that's normal, its natural to wash hair, second nature, I can handle this.
Minutes later after it had calmed her down and the water started to become cold she figured it was time to get out. Slowly stepping out of the shower, becoming a little paranoid that she'd slip and fall, she wrapped the towel around herself and looked in the mirror again.
Its official, I'm a masochist. This is a train wreck, my life is a train wreck and I can't look away. It's a bad horror movie.
The towel was around her chest and hanging around her, making it look odd. Hating to admit it she let it drop and wrapped it around the waist and then critiqued the stomach again.
It needs a bit of work, nothing eating healthy couldn't fix. God even in another body you're a critical bitch.
Trying to stop berating everything she dried off in a hurry and stared at the reflection which looked back like a stranger looking at another person with slight curiosity at why they're being stared at. She frowned and noticed a shave was needed.
Obviously I've never shaved before but the commercials seemed like it was easy and that was enough direction…
Glancing around again and opening up a cupboard she found what she was hoping for.
First Quinn washed my face with warm water opening up the pores, thinking it would be easier on my skin and then she put the shaving cream on that had a pleasant cooling feel. The reflection practically mocked her, smirking as she grabbed the razor, turning it over in my hand a few times and lightly chuckled on how oddly comical this was.
"You can do this, you need to do this Quinn." She mumbled out loud. Right before she was about to bring the razor against the skin she halted, eyes widening at the realization.
Fuck, Quinn's a guy's name. Charlie…Charlie's a nickname for a girl sometimes..right? Charlotte…what the hell. This is like that movie…Freaky Friday. Is it even a Friday? What the hell does it matter, you're losing your damn mind! You're about to have a panic attack, you've never had one before so calm down. Consciously she started to breathe; in through the nose, out the mouth.
Minutes later after she was calmer, but not calm she had shaved and her hair was half dry standing all over the place, confused on where to go or whether to be a cross between laid back long or mullet.
Shaking her head Quinn busied herself but putting on some clean clothes and contently found a black t-shirt. I didn't have to dress exactly like him she figured as she moved around the loft and went through more drawers and finally found a pair of scissors. Opening and closing them a few times she concluded they were sharp enough went back into the bathroom. Starring at the stranger again Quinn grabbed anything that would comb out the random tangles and swiftly went through the hair. Again, picking up the scissor and began to cut the hair, making sure it was choppy but evenly symmetrical on both sides.
Ten minutes later she stopped and as a finishing touch parted the hair to the side and let a few strands fall before the blue-ish eyes. Not bad, could have been worse. With that thought she cleaned up the bathroom, put on a pair of shoes and headed downstairs. Noticing that the headache was completely gone she smiled and thought to herself- that shower was exactly what I needed as she grabbed onto the downstairs door handle and made her entrance.
Quinn went to the counter and grabbed the bag out from below the guy who had helped before said in confusion, "Sir, we don't allow customers back here."
Turning around smiling at him, a small, barely there grin just to say hey, no problem. She still didn't know his name and wasn't sure what to say. "Oh hey man, wow, that rest did you some good. How's your head?" he asked sincerely.
"I'll live," said in indifference. He smiled slightly, he looked tired and she felt more awake with the rest and shower so it seemed fair as she considered it. "Hey, why don't you go home, I'll close early, you've been here all day." The worker smiled more.
"Yeah, that'd be great." He said as he took off his apron. Quinn was glad and had taken the wallet out of her bag without him noticing while he cleaned the counter. Holding out a fifty for him he frowned.
"This is separate from your pay, a tip" she added. He said thanks with a frown and headed out. Now there was only one more person in the shop and as she looked over the place and became lost in thoughts. Twenty minutes had passed when she looked at the clock. Looking around again she finally realized the guy was gone and went over to the door, closed it and turned over the sign that said, Sorry, we're closed. Pivoting around a sigh escaped as she placed masculine hands in the back jean pockets and looked around again trying to decide what to do. The lack of action was also going to drive her up a wall, bare walls that she would be stuck in. Too deep in thought she went to the phone, the ringing halting her inner battle, disrupting her from the various digressions. On reflex she picked it out of the bag and accepted the call.
"Hello," she said forgetting it wasn't my voice.
"Must have the wrong number," a familiar voice said.
"Santana," she said quickly to make sure she wouldn't hang up the phone which the lawyer was prone to doing when she knows it's pointless to get into a conversation, being that the woman was always busy or distracted by Brittany.
"Yes," she said questioning, unsure and with the hint of impatience.
"Santana, I'll explain it in a while, come to the coffee shop at 35th and 4th street, you know the barren walls one."
"Who is this," she asked with a bit of edge.
"San, I said I'd explain, come over and it'll be sorted out." Quinn said calmly. All of the people she could trust it was Santana oddly enough and she wouldn't her. That was even more peculiar. After high school they had grown closer, their competitive edge stopped since they didn't care about cheerleading and with the help of New York City, both women embraced their sexuality. Of course their styles were polar opposites. Santana went to bars with Britt and danced like they were having sex, clearly it was freeing for the brunette. The Head Bitch In Charge dropped that attitude and instead would smile at people, never approach them, but she would flirt with women she found attractive if they started a conversation. Britt also seemed to love the lawyer more, if that were possible, but Quinn figured the dancer was waiting for Santana to love herself too. Unlike the always feisty Latina, Britt was more laid back about pushing Quinn to date, in fact she sat back and listened more rather than shoving a shot in her face as the tanned woman did.
"I don't know you." She finally said.
"Yes you do," she stated nonchalantly, knowing they had plenty of history and then continued, "I'll pay you," she said with a light, joking tone. This was after all, their joke. She and Santana both knew they we were set financially and successful in their own ways. She was a lawyer sometimes Quinn would take a high end job to design someone's apartment. It wasn't steady, it was all under the table but she lived comfortably.
"Okay," she replied seriously and she could see the gears working in her head, "I'll be there in fifteen" and with that she cut off the phone. During those ten minutes Quinn cleaned the counters and rearranged some tables and chair so that the place was more open. Once she was happy there was a whole section where she imagined a couch and a nice low table. These thoughts again were keeping her sane, being fixed on a project was a survival technique her brain was using as a defense for her to stop from jumping off a building. Deep in thought she was startled when there was a knock at the door. Rushing over and quickly opening the door to a confused looking Santana who had her eyebrows lifted in peeked interest.
"Come on in," Quinn said calmly although she was incredibly anxious. Santana walked in hesitantly, back stiff and took a seat near the door. "Ah, do you want anything?" the former head cheerleader asked uncertain.
"No, I want to get to the point of all of this and end this confusion, even if you're nice to look at." So typical of her, she just can't leave the lawyer mentality at the office. Quinn knew Santana was gay and was a one woman kind of person but old habits die hard, she'd witnessed the Latina flirting with anyone she wanted anyway.
"Alright…this is going to sound insane," she began crossing her arms in front of the broad chest that still felt odd, "but…I'm Quinn." she finished. The tanned woman stared at her blankly. "I can prove it," I say quickly. "Ah…oh okay...okay-the only girl who ever beat you up was Lauren Zizes, you became a lawyer because you love to argue with people but mostly because Britt said you should wear power suits more often, you think it's annoying that I can listen to a song on repeat for over an hour, I dog walk, I hate psychologists, I despise the color orange, nearly all of my clothes are neutral colors, if you want to go farther back we were cheerleaders, you've been with Britt for years" she finished but frowned, not knowing if that was enough. Meeting her eyes and looking over her face she noticed her mouth was open. "For once Santana Lopez is speechless. Someone needs to make the date." She tried to joke. Santana still stood there, eyes large. Jokingly Quinn placed her hand below the woman's chin and closed her mouth slowly. Santana swallowed and frowned more.
"What the hell," she finally stated and shook her head then slapped Quinn, not hard, but it still hurt.
"Santana!" Quinn yelled.
"Before you started talking I was wondering what you'd be like in bed," she explained as she crossed her arms over her own chest.
"Aww gross San. You're gay, why would you want to sleep with a guy?"
"I didn't know it was you. Besides, it's a question that usually pops into my head when I meet someone, its how I'm wired, doesn't mean I wants to sleep with guys, no reason when I've got Britts. Ugh, but now I have to go see a psychologist or get shock therapy." She said trying to lighten the mood.
"Maybe we can have a joined session," Quinn said shaking her head. For a few minutes they starred at each other, then the floor, then the walls. Quinn's legs got tired and decided to sit across from her and wait for Santana to say something else.
"So…you're Quinn. Alright, how did this happen?" she asked with a serious tone.
"I have no idea. I was sitting here at the counter earlier this morning and then this headache just hit me and before I could make it out the door there was some crashing and then I passed out. When I woke up I was behind the counter in this body and my body was gone. Charlie must have been freaked out and couldn't handle it, I don't know." I said trying to remain calm.
"Who's Charlie," she finally asked after a few seconds of silence.
"The guy that owns this place, you've seen him briefly but probably don't recognize the ah face…I cut his hair and shaved and everything." Santana lifted her eyebrows again at that.
"So you moved right into his body?" she asked in disbelief.
"No, I'm not. I just can't go looking for my body all over New York City. I figured the realistic thing to do was take a shower to get the blood out of my hair and then stay here in case he comes back." I said in a rush.
"Blood," Santana said in disbelief, though her voice was still calm, assessing the situation.
"Yeah…I guess he must have hit his head when he fell because I woke up with a massive headache and a gash."
"Let me see," she said as she got up from the chair. "You'll live," she said with her usual tone, calm but seemingly bored, though Quinn figured it was so Santana wouldn't flip and start screaming in Spanish as she tended to do when she got worked up.
"Okay," she said shifting into her lawyer mode, "what do you need?" she asked.
"One.. I need you to not tell anyone about this, except Britt, you can only tell her. Two, I need a few things from my apartment and I don't want to leave here in case he comes back. Three, I'm going to need you take out three thousand dollars from my account, if I'm going to stay here I need to keep busy. And four, if it's alright with you I want to know if I can depend on you to stay here for brief periods of time if I need to go out shopping or whatever for food, clothes…so that you can stop my body from leaving if it comes back." Quinn said counting everything out on her fingers. She considered this for a while, working through my requests, dark eyes narrowing, calculating everything.
"Alright," she said once she was set. Quinn let out a relaxed sigh and starred at her friend who was starring back with the same confused face as when she first got into the shop.
"I'm sorry to bring you into all of this I just didn't know who I could trust." she said tired of the explanations and situation and more than annoyed that she had to rely on someone. She never had. Even when she was pregnant, kicked out of her house she moved from one friend's house to the next, becoming a loner and handling everything else on her own.
"No, it's fine. Are you okay though?" She asked concerned, actual consideration coming through.
"Mhmm," she mumbled. "I just need your help with a few things tonight, if that's alright with you." She looked at her watch then.
"It's 11:30, this can wait for tomorrow, I have to be in court in the morning," she said in an indifferent voice at the situation, blasé and aloof.
"Santana!" Quinn exclaimed in disbelief.
"I'll help on one condition," she said in a commanding tone leaving the former blonde to raise eyebrows.
"You have to accept it when I call you butch now," she said with a slightly amused tone, this was all too reminiscent of playing poker, something Quinn didn't do or like to partake in. Santana had always loved to say she was butch, having heard Sam and Finn discuss how she was a top, but Quinn had rolled her eyes, she had more dresses than Santana, but the Latina still enjoyed her jibes.
"A world of no," the taller of the two said seriously. Almost through clenched teeth. Santana shrugged and turned to the door.
"Worth a shot," she says as she grabbed the door and opened it, leaving smoothly.
"Are you coming?" She said turning back to Quinn. "We're going to your apartment, right? To get your things." She said with an air of impatience. The interior designer stood in shock.
"Jesus Christ" she said while stepping onto the street with her and head to the apartment. They walked in silence but it isn't awkward.
Once the girls got to Quinn's place and rode the elevator up she puts her hand on my forearm and squeezed it gently, never one for physical affection unless it was directed towards one Brittany S. Pierce, Quinn looked up from the floor in surprise, "you're handling this well, considering," Santana said with warmth.
"Thanks, I didn't think...I just needed to call you," she replied though it came out as a mumble, annoyed that she couldn't handle the situation myself and not burden Santana as she gripped the keys. Santana offered a small smile and Quinn smiled back, happy that we're on the same friendship wavelength.
They entered into the apartment and began to gather all of her essentials. Soap, shampoo, some clothes that would fit, too big t-shirts that would now fit fine, sweaters mostly, cell phone charger, I-pod and all the things that came with it, some books, a fan, socks, pillow, a soft throw blanket, computer, vitamins, muscle relaxers, some small framed art and a few plants so they wouldn't die. Quinn gave Santana all the light items and headed back down to the coffee shop. They had their hands and arms full but it wasn't a lot. Luckily they stopped by an ATM while on the way. Quinn happily got out the money she needed to keep herself occupied and then unlocked the door to head into the upstairs loft. Santana followed silently taking in all the surroundings. When she was fully in the room and the items were set on the floor and couch she gasped.
"This place looks awful. I'm talking a hurricane hit it. You're going to need a lot of time and creativity to make this place look anything like your apartment."
"True, thanks for pointing out the obvious." Quinn replied being a smart ass. She glared at the former blonde and I grabbed hold of her wrist to check her watch. It was almost 1 o'clock. Immediately Quinn felt guilty.
"Oh I'm sorry, you need to get home, I'll walk you out." And they headed to the stairs.
Moments later Quinn hailed her a cab and gave her a quick hug. Feeling a little awkward at the embrace but needed it."Thanks."
"Call me tomorrow," Santana said simply as she closed the door and headed home.
Once alone Quinn went back upstairs after closing the shop and looked around the dull loft. She sighed and decided to look for some cleaning supplies. Thankfully she found a broom, a garbage container, some wood solution for the floors, which frankly needed work and started to go through all the papers, tossing them away in what would be recycling and making a neat pile of those she thought he might want.
Ten minutes of that went by and she put the remaining papers in a closet which was bare except for one dusty spiders web that she cleaned up and threw out, sneezing in the process. Then she cleared the kitchen and moved around a couple of items to make more room on the counter. Another ten minutes had passed. She went over to the windowsill and began to scrub at the dust that had made a layer. Rolling up the blinds she looked out into the city lights.
It must be at least 1:40, oh insomnia is really helping me right now. And with that thought she went through the refrigerator and cleaned that out. She put the beer in the back and threw out the meat that was close to being expired and rearranged everything so it made sense to her, drinks on one self, the small bit of vegetables that were there went on another shelf and so on. Fifteen minutes of that passed and then she decided to move the kitchen table to another part of the open loft and move the couch and small table that was meant to be a coffee table near the side of the bed after she moved the bed to the corner so that there was more space and moved a mirror to be right near the door so that light reflected off of it from the window allowing the place to be warmer in the day. It was easier to clean and organize and get rid of the dullness to make way for something better. In a way it was cleansing.
Then she moved a dresser and put the TV in the corner of the room so that it wasn't noticeable even though it was previously the focus of the room. Finally after forty minutes of moving everything around which made her muscles start to hurt she grabbed some objects that were brought over from the apartment and started to put them in various places. The pillow on the bed, the throw on the couch, the art on one wall so it looked orderly, plants on the windowsill, the bathroom items away, sweaters hung up and the I-pod and cell phone on the dresser. Finally on a whim she decided take a muscle relaxer and slowly began to feel its effects as she opened another closet and looked inside. There were ten pound dumbbells at the bottom, never used towels, and a few small, white, square shaped candles. The candles seemed out of place, making her frown but she got all of the items out. The weights will be good to release the tension tomorrow, the candles would give a nice touch and the towels were much needed she thought as she threw out the old ones and hung up the unused ones.
Lastly she placed the fan near the bed and couldn't help but smile as she looked over the entire loft. It looked completely different, bigger, cleaner, more modern and less chaotic. It's great that she wanted to be an interior designer because Santana would never believe this. As Quinn too away the full garbage bags she remembered her bag downstairs and ran down to go get it. A sneeze escaped as she ran back upstairs and mumbled under her breath, annoyed that she still had to clean She took the broom and swept the stairs and even polished them afterwards. Her movements becoming slower as the pills really settled in. Looking them over she didn't think the stairs could be improved upon with all of the scratches and old look to them but they changed into a surprisingly nice old fashioned aesthetic once all the dirt and cobwebs were gone.
Back upstairs she looked around again, content with how it had been transformed and decided to go to bed. It was almost 3:30 AM and she was almost on the verge of passing out with the help of the little pills she had taken earlier. Before succumbing to sleep she set the alarm for 8:30 AM and turned on the fan, becoming soothed by the noise. She thought there was no need to wake that early to allow people to continue their caffeine addictions and then I literally passed out once her head hit the familiar pillow.
Groggily she woke to the sound of an overly obnoxious noise and immediately tried to turn off the alarm once she got over the shock of not being in her apartment and being in another body. The very tired woman went to the bathroom once she was fully awake and joints were cracked. Reaching for her toothbrush she was reminded that Santana was always the logical one, had remembered to pack her toothbrush, toothpaste and deodorant. After her teeth were clean she got in the shower for a quick scrub, but again avoided looking over the body for a long period of time. By the time she got out it was only 8:45 and so she got dressed in record timing and decided to go grocery shopping around the corner at an organic shop.
When she got back after making a quick stop to an art store to get colored paper, tacks, fun, artsy magnets and a calligraphy marker she headed back with overflowing bags of groceries. Placing all the items on the coffee shop counter, various mini quiches, small sandwiches, organic sodas and juices, fuji water, cans of corn into the cupboards, no salt added, fresh cheeses, pastries, muffins, butter, eggs, and spices all went where they needed to go. Then she went upstairs and put some turkey, veggie chips, meat, bread, etc into the fridge and headed back downstairs after she had grabbed her computer.
Everything was put away and so I decided to go to work on the art projects as the computer loaded and connected to the internet. After making a neat sign in calligraphy and put it on the door-temporarily closed for renovations she made a new, large menu with many options with colored paper and posted them above the counter. Then she checked her email and was shocked to see how most of the clients wised her well and said they would miss her. That only took fifteen minutes, by then it was almost ten AM and so she decided to call some acquaintances to see if they could put some art from up as a bit of advertisement since they were unknown artists and also if they could get anyone with unique, edgy looking tables.
If I'm going to be here for a while I can't stand to look at blank walls. It was ok being a customer and coming here for brief periods but if I'm going to run this place for a while some things need to change. It was a relief to get into business mode while the calls took an hour to arrange everything after she told them it was Quinn's recommendation. It was an easy lie and she was surprised by how willing people were when she offered she was doing this for her because she was an investor in the coffee shop.
Everyone accepted it and soon enough Quinn had nearly twelve people coming in and out of the place with art, colorful plants, small but cool tables, mismatching chairs, which she loved instantly and some free items such as bits of art they didn't really love but she found interesting, deciding to put all the art together on one wall like a mural. Everything was off the record so she was ecstatic at how she still had nine hundred dollars left from her three thousand and that included all the tips she gave them.
Some even helped her move a few tables as they moved them to the curb. Oddly all of them were girls and they kept saying they were happy to help. The tables they moved were old and beaten with stains on them and she could have hired someone to revive them with a lot of sanding and staining but figured someone could have them if they wanted. Quinn was just too impatient to put that much work into it and she didn't want to have the place be closed for any longer. All of this took three hours to accomplish and so by then it was 1:20 and she looked up at the clock noticing how grimy it looked and out dated so she called another acquaintance who worked at a home deco store similar to pottery barn and asked for him to bring a modern wall clock and six hanging lamps that would work well in a coffee shop, trusting his judgment and smirked knowing most gay men knew how to make someone look better. He took the notes down, often saying mhm and hung up the phone, ready to deliver within the next few hours. Then she called an electrician and asked if one was available today. He said yes, he could be over in twenty minutes. Perfect she thought and then talked more but briefly and then decided to head to an ATM.
It was only a walk around the block but it was nice to be outside. Getting out a thousand and heading back she breathed in the city air. It was nothing like Lima, but that's what she loved about it. Back inside she made a new sign that said the hours of operation from 9 am to 8 pm Monday through Thursdays and 9 am until 10 pm Friday through Sunday. This took a total of fifteen minutes to make everything look professional and as she posted it the electrician showed, quickly getting to work after going through what she wanted. She started telling him all the lights needed to be removed. He looked at them and then went back to his truck to get a ladder and a few papers to explain the cost. It was surprisingly cheap and she signed the papers. Then he started on taking down the lights and Quinn went back behind the counter and began to move around some bagels, muffins, sandwiches in the glass display. Another forty-five minutes passed and she was starting to feel hungry. Looking through the cupboards she found a frying pan, some pam and a few spices. Turning on the stove she was amazed at how a coffee shop would have a kitchen and began to make an egg, realizing she never noticed the stove all the times she'd come here.
Feeling selfish she asked if the electrician wanted a sandwich or anything. He came over happily and picked out a sandwich and asked how much.
"It's free today," she said with a light smile, he thanked her and went back to the lights. Turning back to the egg she put some cheese on it and flipped it. Grabbing two slices of bread and some smart balance butter everything was ready and she sat at the counter and ate contently, enjoying every bite as everyone seemed busy, some enjoying snacks that she offered them. A few minutes later the home décor guy showed with a receipt and a smile saying he was happy to take off work.
"Thanks a lot, this is just what I need." I said with her usual small smile, looking over everything he brought and then offered him a water, which he took and thanked her for. Looking at the paperwork it only came to two hundred and fifty dollars so I gave him three hundred. Not realizing her as Quinn of course, but knowing what style she liked, the former HBIC gave him extra cash and then he headed back to work after his long lunch break. The electrician came over then and asked if these were the lights, with a nod she sat in the oversized chair.
"Alright then, this'll be easy." He said more to himself. It only took the guy thirty minutes to put everything together, he worked really quickly and once he was finished and had left after being paid the bill Quinn was momentarily overwhelmed as she looked around and again noticed how different it was. It had the same feel as the loft upstairs with the whole transformation. Breathing deep she placed the plants on the windowsill admiring how the person she trusted had picked the plants well with their black, classic looking pots. Next she took the old clock down and put up the new, cleaner one. Lastly all the art was hung and she pulled out her phone to call Santana.
It was five o'clock and she always left early, it didn't matter she had a great reputation for winning her cases so she said happily said back to me, "Hi, surviving?"
"I'm keeping busy, trying to breathe. I was wondering if you wanted to come over and maybe critique the changes I made." Quinn said unable to hide the excitement. This was a massive project and it was done quickly.
"No problem, I'll be there in...oh twenty. You want anything while I'm heading through the market," she asked.
"Hm, could you pick me up a bunch of carrots?"
"Will do and hey, has yourself or more accurately you body shown up yet?" she asked with curiosity.
"No. " What if he never came back? What if he decided he could start a new life or what if he's locked in an insane asylum or dead on the side of the street.? Quinn started to panic but Santana's voice kept coming through the phone.
"Q, Quinn!" she nearly screamed.
"Yeah," she asked morosely.
"It'll be okay," she replied and then we said goodbye, see you soon. In those twenty minutes Quinn washed the dishes and cleaned the counter, again, taking note of her OCD and sat down to rub her temples. She was almost asleep when there was a knock at the door. Getting up in a slow manner and greeting Santana who looked shocked and somewhat speechless.
"Well I must say you should have go professional with your interior design, this is great, my god you could have made a real profit." She said her eyes slowly sweeping across the room, too amazed to stop the compliment from coming out.
"Thanks..hey do you want anything," the taller person asked as she pointed over to the kitchen with her thumb.
"No, I'm fine," she said raising her half eaten bagel in her hand, likely from her favorite bagel place near the fashion institute, "but next time." She added.
Quinn nodded tiredly and took a seat in the comfy chairs that were kept. The lawyer took her seat as well and still continued to look around the place. "This really is something, you even changed the menu," she said in disbelief. "How long do you think you'll be staying here?" she asked carefully.
"As long as it takes him to come back with my body," she stated without emotion and glanced outside hoping that he'd be there but it was an old woman walking her small dog. She looked back at Santana. "Hey, did you bring some carrots." She ask happily, accepting the distraction. A slim hand reached into a bag and pulled out a small bag of baby carrots and playfully threw it at Quinn.
"Only you would request carrots." She said with familiar disbelief.
"This vampire needs all the night vision I can get," the rather geeky of the two reply happily and then opened the bag and start eating a few. The body responding to the freshness of them and then she remember… "Would you mind coming with me to Target or something to help me pick out some plates, cups and random bits of fun," she ask playfully, already knowing Santana never turned down shopping unless, as she remembered how her friend put it, "it got in the way of sexy times."
"Yeah, yeah," she said pretending to be bored, "let's go," came the usual command as she got up from the chair and Quinn headed back to the kitchen to put the carrots in the fridge. While theey wandered Quinn got about forty cups and forty plates along with some graham cracker cookies, liquid chocolate, godiva chocolate, whipped cream and some salt and pepper shaker that actually said salt and pepper along with other little spice holders that had nutmeg, cinnamon and chocolate in them from a small venue on the way back to the shop. They stopped at an ice cream parlor to get some mint chocolate chip, peppermint and French vanilla ice cream knowing that fall was settling into the city. And Quinn bought Santana an icecream cone-death by chocolate, though she knew something stronger than chocolate would have to kill the Latina. The only thing that could ever put a dent in the woman's armor was Brittany, but luckily for the feisty lawyer, they knew Britt would never intentionally hurt her.
On the way back Santana asked, "How much money have you put into the place," leaving Quinn to consider it…
"About two thousand, five hundred," she replied honestly.
"Are you expecting a profit back?" She wondered.
"No, I'm just doing it for fun and to keep myself busy from losing it," and shifted the weight of all the bags as the shorter woman opened the door to the coffee shop for her because again Quinn gave her the lightest bags. They were silent as they put everything away after she washed them, the masculine hands becoming softer through the soap bubbles. Or more accurately as Santana watched from her seat on the counter, eating her icecream contently, making small moans. Quinn took off the stickers to the cups and plates and I put the spices on a nearby table for people to do for themselves. It didn't take long until everything was completely finished. She sat in the chair and rolled her neck, hearing the pops as the joints moved around. Santana had to fight a cringe, having always hated when Quinn did that even in cheerleading. Both sighed and looked around noticing everything was clean. The Latina had sighed from her sugar high and Quinn had let out an almost calming breath realizing she had made the place her own and now had nothing to do except run the place, which was completely uncharted territory. But considering she could handle a body switch, she figured she could take on a small coffee shop. Still, she needed to keep busy.
"Do you want to check out the upstairs," she asked her long time friend.
"Why not, I can't imagine it looking worse than this dump," she said joking as she waved her arms around the room making Quinn almost smile as they made the way to the back corner and up the stairs. Ever the smart-alec Santana said, "it looks clean already, I don't have to wear a gas mask," and then opened the door, walking in as though she owned the place.
Quinn moved to the side and let her in. The smaller of the two stood in the middle of the open somewhat studio apartment with her mouth dropped open and moved her hands to her hips. "Impressive." She finally stated. "Next time I move somewhere you're decorating it, maybe I'll move into a shack just to challenge you." She finished with raised eyebrows. The trapped girl smiled crookedly and sat on the couch but moved over allowing Santana room to sit too.
"Are you sure you're okay," she asked in all seriousness after taking a seat.
A deep breath filed her lungs, readying her for reply. "No. But I'll try." she said closing blue eyes tight imagining her mind and spirit, if there is such a thing floating out of this body and into her own. Her eyes opened as she felt the lawyer pull her into a tight hug. Quinn hugged her back, enjoying being comforted for once. She pulled back and even kissed the foreign forehead, a sign of affection she only did when Quinn was crying or in visible pain that couldn't be covered up. That was new, Santana only did that after she had knocked a guy out who was physically too aggressive once with Quinn at a bar, resulting in the former cheerleader from avoiding bars for months. Quinn smiled and said thank you with her eyes and looked beyond her. It was 10:30, Santana needed to go home because of her early meetings. Also they both needed to try to and get some sleep if she was going to wake at 7:45 and open the shop at 8.
"You have to go home San, but thanks for…running around with me." The undertone was clear-thanks for everything, but both were still too proud to ever lay everything out. Instead she stood up and headed towards the door, squeezing the smaller hand before she left.
"Before I forget-got ya something." She said as she shifted her purse from her shoulder and pulled out a new bottle of lotion. "Make em not rough, can't have you touching me with scales," she said with a smirk. "But if you need anything, you know to call me," she said with her head tilted to the side, then swiftly turned and headed towards the bottom of the stairs. Quinn nodded to her even though Santana couldn't see and closed the door.
Again they were outside and she hailed her a cab. Unfortunately she noticed the guy was checking her out, making it blatantly obvious as his eyes lingered over her friend's body. Her jaw tensed, Santana looked at her confused until the former girl whispered, "Come here," and she complied. Quinn hugged her around her small waist, feeling awkward, but knew guys responded to other guys. She'd seen displays of ape-like behavior throughout most of her life and whispered into her ear, "that guy's looking at you like a piece of meat so don't think anything of this," I said as I took her face in between my hands, glancing at the driver to make sure he was looking and softly kissed her on the lips. It wasn't at all romantic, but the driver wouldn't be able to tell. Santana didn't kiss back, thank god, Quinn thought, but her mission was accomplished.
She broke away and took in the woman's shock as the now coffee shop owner pulled away and then whispered, "you're overprotective sometimes," with narrowed eyes. It was true. Quinn during college had punched a guy, knocked him on his ass when he didn't get the hint to leave Britt alone and at the time Santana was in class. Quinn shrugged and watched Santana get in the cab as she starred at the driver, narrowing her eyes at him for a split second. Waving goodbye to Santana and headed back up the loft after taking down the closed for renovations sign.
Tomorrow was going to be very different.
Author's Note: Slow start, I know, but Rachel will pop in. Quinn just has to be her usual self and fixate on making things better so she's comfortable.