A/N

First of all, huge thank you for all the feedback and follows etc from the first chapter, it made my day :)

Second of all, how crazy (and also amazing) was the last episode of Glee? I never actually expected them to make Quinntana happen, and I have few plans to set up the wedding scenario in this, so I think it'll deviate completely from canon from now on.

Hope y'all enjoy this chapter as much as the first:


Quinn went straight back to her dorm after Santana had left her, hoping that sooner or later, the brunette would turn up at her door. She headed into the kitchen, figuring it was probably best to eat something, and shoved two pieces of bread into the toaster, waiting impatiently for them to finish.

The door opened behind her just as she'd started eating, and she turned on impulse, hoping it was the Latina. Her face must have betrayed something akin to disappointment because one of her roommates, Jamie, quirked an eyebrow at her as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

"I know I don't look my prettiest after a run, Quinn, but do I really look that bad?" He was one of the few people on her floor that she got along with, one of the few people in general at Yale that she got along with, if she was being honest with herself.

"Well…" Her lips quirked into a smile at his expression of mock-horror, and he slid into the chair at the kitchen table neck to her. "When are you heading back to Virginia?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. How about you?"

"Not until next week."

"Like it here that much, huh?"

"A lot better than home, yeah." It was the truth, unfortunately – as much as she didn't really fit in here, it beat trying to be the perfect daughter, and seeing how well all the old glee-clubbers were doing.

"That sucks. What are you doing tonight? We could do something, if you're free. Simon and I were thinking of heading for a couple of drinks." Simon was Jamie's best friend, but Quinn suspected that they were secretly together – she wasn't going to push him on the subject, though. They weren't really close enough for that.

"I'll think about it."

"Aw, come on, Quinn. You always bail on us. We keep inviting you out because we like spending time with you, you know."

"A friend from back home actually turned up out of the blue here last night, so I'll have to check with her first."

"Oh? Where is she?"

"Uh… Well, we had a fight. So I don't really know. She's kind of the storm-off-in-a-fit-of-rage type of girl."

"I figured that was your forte."

"Funny." She finished her last piece of toast and stood to wash the dishes off in the sink, Jamie following and leaning against the counter next to her.

"Seriously, though, come with us. It'd be cool to get to know you a little better." He left her then, with one last lopsided grin, and she thought about the proposition as she was putting her stuff back in her cupboard.

Maybe she should start going out more, she mused. The main reasons for turning down most invitations came because she wasn't really one for drinking, any more, considering her track record with it, and it wasn't much fun being the only sober girl in a room full of people who were completely wasted.

But perhaps getting out a little more would be good for her. Jamie was a good guy, she was sure he'd make a good friend, too. And god only knew she needed one of those, now more than she ever had before.

She headed back to her room, glancing at her invitingly-comfortable looking bed before turning with resolution to sit at her desk, in an attempt to finish the paper that she hadn't managed to yesterday. If she hadn't been waiting for Santana to return, she would have headed over to the library – she didn't know why, but she just always seemed to get more work done over there than she did in her own room.

Concentrating on work was apparently easier for her to do than worrying about Santana, and she'd finished the paper within half an hour, printing it off ready for her to hand in on her first day back.

But then, of course, she didn't have anything to do except wait.

She glanced at her phone and wondered whether she should call the brunette, make sure that she was alright, but figured that, no matter how stubborn Santana was, she would have let Quinn know if she was in danger.

Or she sure as hell hoped she wasn't that stubborn, anyway.

She decided that a quick text wouldn't hurt, though.

I know you're pissed off with me right now, but I'm worried about you. Just let me know that you haven't been kidnapped or something.

Her fingers tapped impatiently on her desk as she waited for a reply, feeling herself relax a little when her phone finally buzzed with a response.

I'm fine.

Just the fact that that was all she got from the brunette was enough for Quinn to know that no, she was not fine, but at least she was still alive, she supposed. That was something. Deciding that a shower might help her rapidly darkening mood, she stripped off her jeans and shirt, wrapping the towel tightly around her body and deciding that she was decent enough to wander the halls like that when there were so few people about.

She grabbed her bag of shampoo and headed for the bathrooms at the end of the hall, not seeing another soul on the short walk, not that she'd expected to. She dropped her towel as soon as she was safely within a cubicle, removing the rest of her clothes as she waited for the water to heat up.

It was only when it was scalding that she stepped under the spray, wishing that if only the higher the temperature, the more bad memories it would wipe away. She wondered if she could have handled Santana better, maybe she'd been stupid in thinking that pushing her would help, but she supposed it was too late to worry about that, now.

Instead she wondered how angry Santana would be when (she refused to think if), she returned, and if she even had the willpower to argue with her. It was exhausting, and she hated it, sometimes – but she couldn't help responding if someone lashed out at her. It was how she'd always been, and she didn't know how to change it.

She stayed in the shower until the water started to turn cold, wrapping her towel around her again and dashing back to her room, letting it fall as soon as she was inside and drying her hair straight away.

The sound of her blowdryer was loud enough that she didn't hear her bedroom door open, and nearly jumped out of her skin when Santana's hand waved in-front of her face, her head smacking into the wall behind her in shock, the brunette finding it all highly amusing.

"That wasn't funny," she glared, eyes watering a little from the pain, but at least Santana was laughing. She switched the blowdrier off and rubbed the back of her head tenderly, raising an eyebrow at the amount of bags that the brunette had brought back with hr. "Are there any clothes left in the shops of New Haven?"

"Only ones that I deemed inappropriate for myself." Santana was leaning against the wall beside the blonde as she spoke, and her eyes wandered a little over Quinn's body – she'd completely forgotten that she wasn't wearing any clothes. "You always spend so much time in your underwear, Q?"

Unless she was mistaken, there was a suggestive lilt to the brunette's voice, but Quinn decided to ignore it – she was fairly sure that if there was, it was little more than Santana wanting to feel something other than pain over Brittany.

"Only when I have company." She turned away from the brunette, just a little, not entirely trusting the look in her eyes. Quinn wasn't stupid – she was perfectly aware of how attractive her friend was, and with how long it had been since she'd been with, well, anyone, she wasn't entirely sure that she trusted herself around the brunette, not entirely.

Because she'd be lying if she said that she hadn't thought about it.

"Sugar daddy like it when you prance about wearing no clothes?"

"Fuck off, Santana," she hissed, wondering why Santana was so obsessed with this, enough to not let it go. Maybe it was because it was the only ammunition she could think of when it came to getting one over on Quinn; maybe it was something else entirely.

"Ooh, have I upset you? By bringing up how pathetic your love life is?"

"Like yours is any better?" Quinn whirled back around, and Santana took a step closer – they were practically chest to chest, close enough for Quinn to feel the heat emanating off the other woman, to almost be able to feel her shaking with anger at the blonde's words.

"Shut the fuck up, Quinn."

"Make me." Quinn didn't know what possessed her to say it – or what possessed Santana to react the way she did, which was to take another step forward and grab hold of the top of the blonde's arms, slamming her back against the wall. "What the fuck are you - "

The blonde was cut off when Santana's mouth pressed against her own, tongue slipping past Quinn's lips and into her mouth before she could even begin to protest, her hands moving from their grip on the blonde's arms and to her waist, fingertips digging in to her skin.

Quinn couldn't feel anything apart from Santana pinned against her, took note of the thigh nestled between her own, pushed against her centre as she found herself kissing the brunette back with all she had, both of them pouring out their endless frustration with one another in that kiss, all heat and fire and desire, until Quinn finally came to her senses and snapped her head back, hands moving to Santana's shoulders to shove her away, hard.

The brunette hadn't been expected it so she shifted backwards, just a step, but it was enough – enough for Quinn to clear her head, to try and calm her rapid breathing, to force her heart from pounding in her chest.

"W-what was that?" She whispered, still a little dazed, and Santana leant back and crossed her arms across her chest, eyeing Quinn with a look that the blonde didn't like one bit.

"That was a kiss, Quinn. I know I'm amazing at it, but honestly. Did it really addle your brain that much?" Quinn ground her teeth, forcing herself to keep calm, to not scream like she wanted to, to not launch herself at the brunette that stood before her with a cocky smirk on her face – whether she wanted to launch at her to rip her hair out or to rip her clothes off, she couldn't really tell.

She didn't want to think about that too much.

"You know what I meant," she finally said, instead of the million of other thoughts that were spinning around her head – why did you kiss me; what does it mean; why the hell did I kiss you back – that seemed like the safest option, for now.

"I just thought you could use a proper kiss instead of ones from someone old enough to be your father." Santana shrugged, and Quinn's teeth ground again, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

"Why the fuck do you bring that up in every argument, huh? Why does it even matter to you?"

"Because I can't understand why you'd let some creepy old bastard have his hands all over you. I can't understand why you think you deserve that. You act like you're all damaged and shit, but you're not. You're just afraid to love."

"And you're not?" Her question was met with silence, apart from a slight twitch of Santana's jaw. "And seeing as you're so obsessed with it – I'm not sleeping with anyone. Professor or no."

"You're lying."

"Not now."

"Why did you tell me you were, then?" There was a crease in-between the brunette's eyebrows, enough to let Quinn know that she was genuinely baffled, and the blonde sighed heavily, suddenly feeling a little too exposed, with not being fully dressed.

"Because… I… It's not what I expected, being here."

"So you made up a boyfriend? Do you have any idea how ridiculous that is?"

"I'm perfectly aware, yes."

"But wait. You only told me that, didn't you? Why?"

"I don't know." That was the truth, at least – she had little idea why she'd made up that fanciful lie when they'd been squaring off against each other on opposite sides of that piano. Maybe she'd just wanted to say the most outlandish thing possible – maybe she'd wanted the brunette to call bullshit.

"You've got some pretty f-ed up issues, Q."

"And you don't?" Her only answer was another shrug, and Quinn went back to finishing drying off her hair, head still spinning a little from that kiss – but she didn't want to think about it too much with Santana standing right there, half-afraid that the brunette would know what she was thinking.

She pulled her jeans and shirt back on as soon as she was done, cutting off any more searching looks from the brunette that was now lounging on her bed, and she went to sit back at her desk, studiously ignoring the other woman, and wondering how the hell they kept ending up in this huge loop of fight-make-up-fight.

A knock on her door was the thing that stopped her stony silence, as she called out a 'come in', suspecting it was most likely to be Jamie – others rarely came to her room unless they needed something from her.

"Hey," Jamie called as he eased the door open and leant on the doorframe. Simon was stood behind him and waved, and Quinn smiled back. "You decided on your plans for later, yet?"

"Not yet," she replied, but of course, Santana chose that moment to break her own vow of silence, and her voice came out as a drawl from over Quinn's shoulder.

"What plans?" Quinn sighed, running a hand through her hair. She didn't really want to go out anymore, not with Santana tagging along, anyway.

"Um, we invited Quinn out with us tonight – she said she had a friend over so she'd have to clear it with them first…" Jamie answered the brunette when it became clear that Quinn wasn't going to, and looked curiously between the pair of them.

"Out as in out drinking?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then we're in." Jamie glanced from the brunette to the blonde, and looked like he was re-considering the offer after all.

"Santana," Quinn started, trying to keep her voice level but fairly sure she wasn't succeeding. "You do realise that it's polite to ask before making plans for someone, right?"

"And you do realise that it's polite to tell people when they're invited to places, right?" Santana copied Quinn's tone exactly, and it grated on her nerves far more than it should. Her hands clenched into fists yet again, and she couldn't help thinking that if it happened many more times then she'd probably end up with them stuck that way.

"Um, we'll just go…" Jamie muttered, leaning back away from the doorway, but Santana's voice called him back.

"No, no, come back. So you're friends of Quinn's, huh? Tell me, what's she like here at Yale? Because back in Ohio she's a straight-up bitch, do you get that vibe off her here?" Jamie looked wildly uncomfortable, and Simon appeared to have slinked off somewhere else, and Quinn finally chanced a look back to see a hint of malice on Santana's face, and she finally snapped, shoving herself out of the chair and stalking towards the door, afraid that if she stayed there for even a second longer then she'd burst into tears.

"Quinn, wait - " Jamie's hand caught her wrist, pulling her to a stop just before she crossed the threshold, concern washing over his face as his eyes met hers. He glanced back over her shoulder at Santana, frowning. "I'm going to go. I think you two should maybe talk things out a little…"

He trailed off and let go of her wrist before backing out of the door and shutting it behind him - the click sounded somehow ominous in the otherwise deadly silent room. Quinn stayed where she was, facing the door, forcing herself to calm down, willing tears not to fall.

"Why did you do that?" She asked when she was feeling a little calmer, but she still didn't turn around, didn't trust herself to. "Why do you have to tear me down at every chance you get?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"You and I both know me trying to get through to you, and you trying to hurt me is not the same thing." It came out bitterly, the words twisting a little as they fell from her lips – she wasn't used to being this brutally honest, but she was tired. Tired of this antagonistic relationship they'd found themselves in. She wanted – needed – it to stop before it drove her insane.

"This is what we do, Q." Santana's voice was a little uncertain, and it was only then that she let herself turn around, expression completely unguarded as her eyes met the brunette's across the tiny room.

"And I'm sick of it. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to hear you criticise me all the time? You fucking kissed me a few minutes ago and now you want to tear me down in-front of one of the few people that I can actually begin to consider a friend here?"

"I didn't realise that being here had turned you into such a sap." The words stung, coupled with the complete dismissal of the kiss, and it was just too much – with a shake of her head, biting her lip to stop it from trembling in an effort not to cry, she just turned and left, slamming the door behind her.

Jamie and Simon were waiting in the hallway, but she just shook her head at the pair of them when they tried to stop her, brushing past them easily. It wasn't until she was outside and the cold hit her that she realised that tears were running down her cheeks. She wiped them away hastily – she didn't let anyone see her cry, not if she could help it.

She walked quickly to a nearby park, which was where she usually headed when she needed some thinking time out of her room. The journey there was a blur, and she made her way into the copse of trees – she'd come across them early on in the year, and they kept her completely hidden from view when she was sat down within them, which she loved.

She curled up on the ground and rested her head on her knees, arms wrapping around her legs, and let herself cry a little bit before even thinking about why she was so upset. Sure, it destroyed her very little self-confidence to be constantly dissed by the Latina, but it wasn't like she wasn't used to it. Did she just have thinner skin, now?

And then there was that kiss. Her lips still tingled a little from the memory of that it had felt like to have the brunette's mouth on hers; her head still spinning. She didn't have any clue what the fuck it meant, but there was one thing she was sure of – and was that she'd enjoyed it.

Which was very, very bad. If it was just a kiss, then that was fine – it probably wasn't likely to ever happen again, after all. But… she had the sneaking suspicion that it meant more than that to her. And god help her if she was actually starting to fall for the brunette – because that was sure to end disastrously, of that she was certain.

She sighed, digging her fingers into her legs and concentrating on that instead of her churning thoughts. Maybe she just needed some distance from Santana, maybe that would help – except no matter how much the brunette might wind her up, she wasn't cruel enough to send her away (even if she thought the brunette would follow her wishes), considering what, or rather, who, awaited her back in Lima.

Which left her with no alternative but to deal with Santana until she either decided to leave, or until she herself left for Lima, which wasn't for another six days. If they could survive that long without killing each other.

She'd taken her phone with her but had left it on silent, and when she checked it she had a worried text from Jamie, and two texts and three missed calls from Santana, which she found interesting. Maybe she could actually bring herself to care about the blonde, after all.

She didn't reply to any of them, only picked herself up off the floor and venturing back to her room, wiping her cheeks and trying to make herself look a little more presentable on the way over. It was nearing three in the afternoon, she realised with a start, and she'd only eaten two slices of toast so far that day. And she hadn't brought ay money out with her.

Typical.

Jamie and Simon were no longer in the hallway when she returned, and she paused outside for a brief second outside her room to collect her thoughts before she pushed the door open – but it was empty. Frowning, she noted that Santana's bags from her shopping trip still littered her floor, so she hadn't left unexpectedly.

She had absolutely no idea where to find the brunette, but she found herself thinking that she didn't really care at this point. So instead she cleaned herself up in-front of her mirror, grabbed her bag and went to get some food, opting against being a bitch and locking the door behind her, which would mean that Santana wouldn't have been able to get back in – she wasn't quite that petty.

The café she chose to go to for lunch was a five minute walk, one she frequented whenever her classes meant that she had a break in the middle of the day, or when she couldn't be bothered to make anything herself.

She ordered a salad and a coffee, even though she didn't really like the taste - it made her feel a little bit more grown up, which she needed to fell today, of all days. She needed to remember that she'd changed, that she wasn't the same girl who'd gotten herself pregnant too young, who'd made so many stupid choices even after that.

She ate quickly, ignoring another text from Santana (Seriously, Q, where the fuck are you. I don't care how pissed you are, text me the fuck back right now, okay? I'm worried. Please.). Maybe she shouldn't have, maybe she should have replied, but she was feeling vindictive enough to let the brunette be concerned, for once, over her actions. Because she was damn well willing to bet that if the reason for Quinn's disappearing act hadn't been Santana's fault, that she wouldn't care half as much.

When she arrived back on her floor, the door to Jamie's room was propped open, and he and Simon were sitting cross-legged in the hallway, Santana sat leaning against the door opposite. All three heads turned towards her at the sound of her approach, and a look of relief washed over all of their faces.

"Thank fuck, Quinn. Where the hell where you?" She chose not to answer, waiting for an apology, and instead stepped over Santana's legs and into her bedroom, collapsing on the bed and curling up on her side, facing the doorway.

It opened a few seconds later, and the brunette shuffled in, wringing her hands a little as she stood and just watched the blonde, face betraying nothing. "Are you just going to stand there and stare at me all day?" Quinn eventually asked, growing uncomfortable from the eyes on her.

"No. I… I'm sorry. I've been shitty to you, this whole time, pretty much, even though you let me stay here when you didn't have to. And I… I get what you mean, about being sick of being on at each other all the time. And I want to try to fix that. If you'll let me."

Quinn let the brunette's words sink in before she replied, picking her words carefully, because she wasn't entirely sure how long this would last, and she wanted to start it right. "Okay. I guess I'm sorry, too, for provoking you half the time; that was wrong of me. And thank you. For… wanting to try."

"I can't promise that I won't insult you endearingly from time to time, though." Santana cracked a smile, and Quinn laughed, just a little, and just like that the awkwardness between them disappeared. "You want to watch a movie or something?"

"Sure. Are we going out later?"

"If you want to. Your friends are pretty cool." Quinn pushed herself upright only to grab her laptop and then getting back on the bed, sitting so that her back was against the wall and the computer on the bed next to her.

"Pick a film," she murmured to the brunette as she sent a quick text to Jamie asking him where they should meet later on. As she waited for him to reply she got comfortable on the bed, shifting a few pillows around and leaving enough space for Santana to curl up beside her.

"Close your eyes." Santana instructed, holding a DVD behind her back, out of the blonde's view. Quinn raised an eyebrow, unasked question in her gaze. "You have to guess what film it is."

"Aren't we a little old for guessing games?"

"Shut up and close your eyes, Fabray." With an exasperated sigh, Quinn did as she was told, squeezing her eyes shut as she listened to Santana putting the disk into her laptop before settling down on the bed next to her.

"Okay, you can open up now. If you don't guess the film within the first minute, then you have to do five shots later."

"What? That's not fair, a minute's not enough time to figure out what it is."

"Are you backing out, Fabray?" There is was again, that challenge in her dark gaze, charged with a little something more than usual. She wondered if Santana had thought about that kiss again, since it happened, but quickly pushed that thought out of her mind as she felt her gaze wander to the brunette's lips – hopefully she didn't notice.

"Fine. But if I guess it right, then you have to do the shots."

"Deal."

x-x-x

As it turned out, Quinn hadn't been able to guess that Santana had chosen Pitch Perfect as their film of choice – she hadn't even had the chance to watch it once for herself, so there was no surprise there.

The brunette was a little too happy about that, and Quinn wondered why she seemed so intent on getting her drunk – though maybe a little alcohol in her system would stop her feeling so questioning over Santana's every act.

Or maybe it was just a terrible idea.

She didn't have much time to muse over how it would turn out, however, because by the time the movie had finished, it was time to eat and then getting ready. They met the two boys in the hall at ten, walking together to the first bar of the night, only a block away.

"Now," Santana started almost as soon as they were inside, eyeing Quinn with mischief in her eyes. "Shots now, or later?"

"One now and the rest later?"

"Nu-uh, all at once. I want to see you hammered, Fabray. It's about time you loosened up, from these losers have told me." She indicated Simon and Jamie with an absent wave of her hand, and they looked mildly offended at the insult.

"Don't worry guys, she offends everyone."

"It's part of my charm."

"Yeah, sure," Quinn muttered, loud enough for only Jamie to hear, who stifled a laugh. They slid into a booth, Quinn and Simon ending up opposite each other as Santana and Jamie disappeared to get drinks.

"Are you heading back home tomorrow, too?" She wasn't really one for small-talk, but she supposed she should make at least some effort. Simon was a lot shier than his suspected-boyfriend, which meant he wasn't the easiest to talk to. Hopefully that'd change once he had a few drinks in him.

"Yeah, I'm going back to his place for a few days before heading back home."

"You're from Montana, right?"

"Yeah. And you're Ohio?"

"Unfortunately." He grinned at that, and Santana appeared over his shoulder brandishing two bottles of cheap-looking beer. She slid in beside Quinn and plonked one down on the table in-front of her. "What the hell is this?"

"Just drink it, Q."

"Uh, no. I've seen beer brewed by students that looked safer than this."

"Loosen up a little, will ya?" Muttered Santana with a roll of her eyes, and Quinn took a deep breath, ready to go into a full on rant – before she caught the uncomfortable look on poor Simon's face, and decided against it.

Instead, she let it go, and took an apprehensive sip from the bottle. It wasn't the best thing she'd ever tasted, but she was sure that it could be worse. "See? Not that bad." She studiously ignored the smug smile that accompanied Santana's words, instead choosing to just drink a little more – maybe getting drunk wasn't such a bad idea, after all.

It wasn't until her fourth beer that Quinn started to feel a little buzzed, and it was only then that she realised that unless she wriggled her way out of her deal with Santana, that she was going to get a lot worse before the night ended.

After the fourth round they decided to head to another bar down the street, which was a lot louder than the one they'd just left, packed with Yale students who were enjoying their last Saturday night out before heading home for the holidays.

They found a table towards the back, Quinn heading for the drinks this time so that she could ordered something non-alcoholic in an attempt to sober herself up a little. She was stood waiting for the bartender to hand the drinks over when she heard someone call her name, a hand landing on the small of her back making her jump a little.

"Quinn! I thought it was you. I haven't seen you around in ages, how have you been?" The blonde turned, with a feeling of slight dread in the pit of her stomach, to meet the startlingly blue eyes of the girl who, for her first month or so at Yale, had been her best friend there: Amy.

She was the same height as the blonde, a shade paler and had long black hair that somehow made her look absolutely gorgeous instead of washed-out, like it would with most other people with that skintone. Her smile was genuine, but it still didn't put Quinn at ease – not that the poor girl had done anything wrong.

No, it had been the blonde that had messed things up between them.

"Hey, Amy. I've been great, thanks, yourself?" The arrival of her drinks order gave her a few seconds to gather her thoughts as she handed her money over, feeling Amy's gaze on her the whole time.

"Not too bad." Quinn shuffled a little awkwardly, taking a long sip from her fruit cocktail, grabbing Santana's next beer in her other hand. "You here with friends?"

"Uh yeah. You remember Jamie and Simon?"

"Yeah. I miss you, you know." Quinn bit her lip, not exactly wanting to have this conversation, ever, never mind after she'd been drinking and whilst they were in a crowded bar. Luckily, Santana of all people came to her aid, practically shoving Amy aside in order to lean against the bar next to Quinn.

"I thought you got lost," was all the brunette said by way of explanation, as she plucked her drink from Quinn's hand, taking a swig as she sized Amy up over the lip of the bottle. "Who's your friend, Q?"

"Amy Daniels," the other girl said, extending her hand to Santana, but the brunette didn't take it, and didn't offer her own name. "Well, uh, I should probably go," Amy muttered after a few seconds of awkward silence, letting her arm drop back down to her side. "I'll see you around, Quinn. And you can call me, you know, whenever."

Quinn only nodded and murmured a soft 'goodbye', before she turned and strode back towards their table, not even checking to see of Santana was still in tow. She was a little shaken from the encounter, even if she'd never admit it to anyone – just like she'd never admit what had happened between her and Amy that had made their brief friendship fall apart.

It had been about five weeks since the start of the college year, and they'd gone out one night and gotten completely wasted – and Quinn had woken up the next morning in Amy's bed, both of them sans clothes, with only brief flashes of memory as to what had transpired the night before.

She'd managed to piece it together, well enough, though, from the vivid memory of Amy's lips, hot on hers, as they'd collapsed backwards onto her bed – and that was all she'd needed to know, really.

And, because she came from the family that she did, she'd naturally freaked out about it and left without saying a word to her friend, ignoring all of her calls and texts until eventually, she'd stopped trying.

Quinn had managed to keep quiet about the whole thing, and trusted that Amy would do the same. She didn't know what it meant, had blamed it all on being so drunk, but now she wasn't so sure.

Mainly she just tried not to think about it, and the reason she'd been so successful at it was because she hadn't had a drink since.

"Yo, Q, are you okay?" She snapped out of her mind at Santana's hand waving in her face, and turned to see brown eyes looking at her with concern.

"I-I'm fine. Sorry, zoned out a little there." Santana was still frowning, but she just shrugged, apparently letting it go – for now.

"So, what was the deal with that chick?"

"Nothing."

"Who was it?" Jamie piped up, across the table, and Quinn's eyes fluttered closed – she really, really didn't need Jamie wondering why the girl who had been so inseparable from the blonde for those first few weeks had suddenly ceased to exist for her, not again; it'd been difficult enough to come up with a flimsy excuse the first time around, one that she could scarcely even remember, now.

"Someone called Amy?"

"Ohhhh. Amy, Amy?" He was looking at the blonde as he spoke, she could tell, and Quinn cracked an eye open to see that he was looking at her with one eyebrow quirked up. "I never believed that story you spun me about her sleeping with her professor being the reason why you guys stopped being friends. That was total bull."

Beside her, she heard Santana choke in a breath, and Quinn kicked her, hard, under the table, turning to the brunette with a glare that screamed don't you dare. Their eyes met, and Santana looked away first, with a tiny nod of acquiescence.

"It wasn't bull, it was true."

"Yeah, yeah." She could tell Jamie still didn't believe her, but he apparently decided not to push the issue. Quinn felt her phone ring with a text, then, and she frowned at the device, unsure who on earth would want to contact her at midnight on a Saturday. She got her answer as soon as the screen lit up.

You are totes telling me what went down between you and vampire-Amy later. Quinn hadn't even noticed Santana texting, which showed how much attention she was paying to her. The blonde rolled her eyes and texted back a quick response.

Vampire? And not a chance, S. Sorry.

Yeah, vampire. I mean, did you see how pale she was? That shit just ain't natural. And yeah, you totally are. I'll spike your drink with enough alcohol to get you talking, don't worry. And you still have those shots to do, unless you're backing out of a bet, Q?

Never.