Crescendo

I think I stood outside in the cold for ten minutes before I actually went inside the building. After the supposed kiss, everything was a bit hazy. I don't remember opening the door to my room, or even changing into sleep wear, but here I lay in bed, ready for sleep. If only my brain would shut the hell up! Every few seconds it goes: She kissed me.

I mean, I didn't even see it happen so what proof do I have? For all I know, she slapped me with a wet fish. Or she could have walked away after I slapped her and a complete stranger jumped out of the bushes and stole a kiss from my luscious lips. That's totally believable, right? She kissed me.

She probably meant to slap me but got tripped up and accidentally landed on my lips, that would also explain why she walked away angrily. Hmm, that makes sense but really any of these scenarios are plausible. There's no way, though, that she meant to do it. She didn't mean to kiss me.

I let out a sigh but it didn't relieve the pressure in my chest. I look at the time on my phone, 11:58 pm. Ugh, I need to sleep. I need to stop thinking about Quinn Fabray and relax. The one thing that always relaxes me is music. I close my eyes and listen to the melody that starts to play through my mind. It's of a single violin, sad and lonely, played after rehearsals are over, in a dark auditorium. She kissed me.


Fuck Quinn Fabray! All day she has been a bitch, which is what she is, but even more so than usual. What makes it worse is the fact that we share almost all the same classes.

In our Composition class, after presenting a rough draft of a piece I was working on, she ripped it apart. Literally. She took my sheet music and "accidentally" tore the paper from making so many corrections. Then in Classical Interpretation, I made a comment on how gay Phinot was when she decided to start a debate on how sexuality is irrelevant in music. The rest of class was spend arguing back and forth.

My entire day went like that and I've had enough. I'm actually quite proud of myself for maintaining my cool for so long. Resisting the urge to slap her again twenty plus times must be a new record. Now all I have to do is make it through rehearsals and I'm home free. It's Friday and I fully intend on spending my weekend far, far away from campus. Preferably, sipping margaritas on a yacht or shooting Jack while dancing on a bar, but I'm not picky.

I'm about to take my seat when someone dares to shove past me. The swish of a yellow sun dress confirms my suspicions.

"Watch it, Fabray!" I yell at her, expecting her to ignore me. Instead, she turns on her heels and shoots me the darkest death glare I've ever seen. Ever. Like I felt Death breathing down my neck. It kind of shook my soul but I refused to let her scare me, I'm Santana fucking Lopez. I've dealt with worse, like being outed in a crowded hallway full of bible thumping red necks.

"Alright, listen up everyone." Professor Gregor announces. I glance up at him as I take my seat and prepare. He's wearing a tweed coat over suspenders with a green bow tie and I feel like barfing. That's the effect bow ties have on me and it doesn't help that he's a walking stereotype of a music professor. Old, crazy hair, and German with thick glasses.

"Today, we will be attempting a challenging composition from the Renaissance era by blah blah blah..." He drones on and I tune him out. Sheet music is already being passed out and I recognize this piece. I learned it when I was nine and could probably play every part while half asleep. I'm mentally going through all the ins and outs of the song when he catches my attention again.

"Quinn, dear, are you prepared to play the solo?" Of course she gets the solo, Quinn gets everything.

"Um, yes. Yes, I'm ready." Is it just me or did she sound unsure of herself?

Anyways, we begin and I patiently wait to play my parts. Someone in the brass sounds off key and another in my section has their timing wrong but I can't pin point who. Finally, the solo comes up and I can't help but watch Lucy. I can't place my finger on it but something isn't right. Is it her posture or the amount of color on her face? Whatever it is, you can hear it in her playing. She speeds up when she's supposed to slow down and she's too loud when she should be soft. Eventually, the conductor stops us.

"I'm so sorry, Professor. May I be excused?" Quinn asks before he can even say anything.

"Of course, go ahead." With that she walks out of the room towards the bathroom. How odd. "Clarence, you're sounding off key. Correct yourself. Percussion, I really need to hear you more. Strings, is anyone comfortable playing the solo?" Here is my chance, finally.

I raise my hand before anyone else. "I can play the solo, G." I say with no hesitation. He peers down at me for a moment, contemplating.

"Alright then, everyone from the top."

The rest of practice goes off without a hitch, I even get a compliment from the conductor. The rest of these bitches surrounding me say nothing, they be jealous. I don't let them get to me, though. Every now and then I wonder where Quinn could have gone. She hasn't come back and rehearsals will be over soon. Not like I'm worried about her or anything. It's just that if she were gone for good then I could take my rightful place as concertmaster.

"Bravo! Bravo, everyone! You all did better than I anticipated. Since it is Friday, I shall release you early but keep this in mind. Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent." I have to admit, that was a good one. Before I forget it, I'm tweeting it right now. I pull out my phone and start clicking away while everyone seems to be in a race to leave.

Posting my tweet, I secure my phone back in my pocket and look up to find that I'm the last one here. Or maybe not, Quinn's equipment is still here. Where the hell could she be? I briefly think about packing her stuff up for her but banish the thought quickly. I'm not her damn mother, I'm not even her friend! But at the same time, I wouldn't feel right if I just left it there. Decisions, decisions.

In the end, I decide to practice some more. Only for five minutes, and if she isn't back by then, I'm leaving. So I lift Brisingr to my chin (Yes, that's the name of my violin.) and play the first tune that comes to mind.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Yay, the bitch is back. "That's my song, you can't play it."

"Well, you didn't say shit last time and I actually helped you create the rest of it. So it's as much my song as it is your's." I put Brisingr down and rise to my feet so that we are eye to eye.

"Oh, I see what's going on. You think that after playing the solo for one practice that you're somebody special now. That the professor trusts you enough to hand over the orchestra to you on a silver platter. Wrong, Lopez. You're still an arrogant bitch that doesn't belong here. This is my orchestra, and will be until I graduate, so you better back the fuck off." Quinn has on what I like to call the HBIC face, unlucky for her, I have my own.

"I may be arrogant but at least I have what it takes to back it up. I would never of had to play the solo if you knew what the hell you were doing. You were playing worse than a beginner at their first recital and you choked. So what exactly is it that has you acting like Bitchzilla all day and an insecure amateur? Let me guess, is your current boy toy not putting out? Has Professor Patches twisted your panties so hard that you can't keep up your perfect angel charade?" Venom is leaking through my every word. There's a spark in her eyes when I make that last comment so I latch onto it.

"Is that where you disappeared to for the last hour of practice?" I lean forward and whisper into her ear my final words. "Were you fucking him on his desk while looking at the picture of his wife and kids?" Suddenly, the nearest chair is sent tumbling down by the Barbie in a fit of rage. I know rage when I see it.

"You know nothing about me so don't you dare make assumptions out of your misplaced jealousy. I owe you a very hard slap to the face for yesterday, but I'm better than that." Lucifer seemed to regain some of her composer and gathered herself up. "Unlike you, I have class. You mean nothing to me, Santana Lopez, and I will not waste anymore of my time on you. You're not worth it."

She's down the hallway when I catch up with her. If she wants to bring up yesterday, and what she owes me then so be it. I owe her something as well.

"Quinn!" I yell and she immediately spins to face me. I don't give her the chance to say anything more by walking right into her and kissing those strawberry stained lips of her's. This time lasts longer than the first and I can make out a few details. Like how warm and shallow her breathing is, how her lips have parted slightly in surprise that I take full advantage of, and how much I like it. That last one makes me take a step back, I like kissing her. Shit.

We're both silent and when she opens her eyes and looks at me, I'm not sure what to make of the emotions swirling within them. Lucy Q is the most complicated woman I've ever known so I have no idea what to expect next.

"You stole a kiss from me yesterday so I stole one back. You can slap me now if you want." I say almost out of breath as my chest feels like it's in a choke hold. Apparently, Q didn't just want to slap me anymore. She somehow morphs into the Hulk and shoves me hard against the wall. Before I can reach for the razors in my hair, she's attacking my lips with her's.

I can feel every inch of her body pressed against mine, her hands grip tightly to my hips and pull me even closer. With no way out, I give in to her and wrap my arms around her neck, letting her ravage me. She's vicious as she nips and sucks on my lips but never sloppy or messy. When she licks slowly and tantalizingly against my mouth, I open without a second thought. Now our tongues are twisting and turning against each other in an erotic battle for dominance. My pulse is going crazy and I feel like I might spontaneously combust. Then goosebumps shoot through me when I feel her soft fingers sliding up my shirt. She's only moving them up and down my sides but I can't suppress how good it feels, or the moan that escapes me.

After hearing me, I can feel the corners of her lips turn into a smile while we kiss. She no longer is plundering my mouth like a seasoned pirate, instead she slows down and becomes sweet and gentle. I've never been the sweet and gentle type but I can't seem to get enough of her. Our make out sessions peters off into little kisses until we're just resting our foreheads against each other's. She still running her fingers over my skin and I realized that I've been playing with her hair. It's incredibly soft and smells like jasmine and I can't wipe this smirk off my face.

"I think I'll save that slap for another time, like when I have you bent over my knee. Just so you know, you're still an arrogant bitch." Her tone is light and flirty, and I don't think I've ever seen her look so beautiful. Hair in disarray, lips bruised, and a genuine smile.

"Ok, you're still a fucking tease." I reply back when I remember how to speak.

"And I'm still the concertmaster." She continues and hardens her gaze on me.

"Until I take it from you." We size each other up one last time before she breaks and stares at my lips.

"Fair enough. I need to go now." I remove my hands from her hair but her fingers are still tracing patterns on my stomach.

"I'm not stopping you." I startle her out of the trance my mouth seems to have her in and smile. Someone definitely has got it bad for all of this. I mentally point a circle at myself.

"Right, ok then." Slowly taking away her hands, she steals one last soft kiss from me before leaving.


The weekend was filled with bar hoping up and down Castro Street with Tina (Who is becoming quite the gay hag.) and thoughts of Quinn Fabray. I know that a make out session changes nothing about our dynamic, but I honestly can't help myself. The chick is banging hot and we played tonsil hockey, I feel very accomplished.

Monday rolls around and I am apprehensive. It could be that I'm still hung over or that Blondie is unpredictable as ever. So when I spot the first sign of golden hair and hazel eyes accompanied by a mischievous smirk, I let out a sigh of relief. It looks like Bitchzilla has gone back to the ocean and a certain good girl has a bad streak.

Throughout classes, we spoke not a single word to each other but constantly exchanged fleeting glances and small touches whenever possible. Same thing happened during rehearsals, I even got to play solo again without a dirty look from Queen Quinn.

"Ok everyone, that is it for today. You all did very well and I am confident that we shall have a marvelous show for our end of year performances. You may be on your way but Quinn and Santana, please see me in my office when you are ready." I've been in trouble enough times to know that this is either a really good thing or fucking horrible. I mentally try to recall all the shit I've done recently that could warrant this visit but come up empty-handed. Unless someone saw Quinn and I the other day getting too friendly, but who would complain about two hotties getting their mack on?

I see Quinn trying to look calm but I can tell she's nervous also. "Well, ready to get this over with?" I ask walking up to her. She nods her head silently as we make our way out.

Gregor's office is almost above the auditorium so we have to take the stairs to reach it. The door is wide open when we get there and there's also another person inside. After a moment I realize who it is, it's the Dean of Music, Professor Patrick. When he hears us enter, he gives a pearly white smile that would make any straight woman swoon.

"Ladies, welcome! Please have a seat." Where Prof. G is old and hairy, Patrick is young and handsome, if you're into George Clooney look-a-likes.

"So ladies, it should come as no surprise that you two are the best of our orchestra." G begins when we are seated. "You both work very hard and it shows, I commend you. That being said, the Dean would like to make you both a proposal." He nods towards the Dean.

"I'm going to cut right to the chase, girls." Pat says as he takes a seat on the corner of Greg's desk. "The end of year performance is coming up and I want you two to be the highlight of the show. This isn't just about showing parents and the city how well our students do, it's also about recruiting the next year's students and funding. Nationally, music programs have been taking a major hit and I think it's largely because we aren't connecting with people. The average joe doesn't know who Mozart is or appreciate the classics like they should be. So, your part in all of this will be to duet a few more current songs of today so that people can connect and recognize the beauty of what we do here. Are you up for the challenge?"

"Hell yes, where do I sign up?" I announce, he had me at highlight.

"Quinn?" Prof. G asks when she doesn't answer right away.

"Yes, I would be honored." She smiles and bats her lashes, I have to remind myself to look away.

"Perfect. Then that's all for now, girls. You may go for now and I will contact you about the details later. Oh and thank you so much, really proud of you." The Dean finishes and gives one more panty-dropping smile.

We exit the office and on the way down I strike up a conversation. "So, it's a month away, you think you'll be ready by then?" I can't help that I'm competitive, so sue me.

"Oh I'm positive I'll be ready but will you be able to handle the pressure?" Quinn gives me a seductive sideways glance as we walk along. "Or will you crack after wanting to be center stage for so long?" I've never had anyone who could match me, quip for quip, so our banter is enjoyable.

"Baby, I'm used to having people watch while I perform." I accentuate my words enough for her to catch my voyeuristic drift. A blush blossoms as soon as I called her "Baby" in response and I smile to myself. Santana 1, Quinn 0.

"Miss Fabray." Our moment is rudely interrupted by Dean Pat, who is at the end of the hallway. "I'm sorry, but the Professor and I have one more favor to ask."

"I'll be right there." She answers then then turns back to me. "I'll text you later, ok?" Without waiting for my response, she heads down the hall towards the office. Whatever, I say to myself before walking the opposite direction. I'm almost out when I stop myself, she doesn't have my number, I never gave it to her.

So I'm turning around to find her when I hear a door shut forcefully. Strange, that sounded like one of the auditorium doors. The Lima Heights Adjacent in me says I should mind my own business, could be a serial killer, but my Mexican third eye is telling me something isn't right. My Mexican third eye is never wrong so I investigate.

Using my ninja skills I picked up from Tina, I stealthily head towards the closest set of doors. Slowly, I push my way in and take a look. Music stand are where they should be, nothing looks like it's splattered in blood, just Quinn and the Dean making out... ... ...This is the one time in my life I'm right but wish I were wrong.


Start playback of "Ancora Qui" here.


A/N: ...so yeah. I'm thinking you guys hate me right now, huh? It's ok, I don't like me either cuz of this but it had to be done. Just know that I love you all and thank you so much for the wonderful reviews! Shout outs to boringsiot and Quinntana2, missed you guys! Next chapter for Piano POV will be coming soon!

"Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent." -Victor Hugo