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Prompt
Anonymous: Santana and Quinn get completely drunk at a party and sleep together. In the morning Santana realizes it meant more to her than she assumed, but she reaches over to find Quinn and she is already gone. The pillow is already cold, and all that is left in her place is a short note…
(Un-edited & un-beta'd)
Her head's pounding and her mouth is disgustingly dry as a crack of light fight's it's way through the closed blinds. It hadn't been a hard decision, whether or not to go to the party, her best friend having gotten the train in from New Haven to spend the weekend with her in her cramped dorm at NYU. They hadn't seen one another in months and a good night out was in dire need for both of them.
Burrowing her face further into the pillow, she can smell the remnants of Quinn's perfume and it's then when it hits her.
I slept with Quinn last night.
Her stomach immediately turns to mulch as angst builds in her chest, yet she couldn't tell you why if you asked. So maybe she wasn't normallythe one night stand type of girl but it wasn't like she'd never had friends with benefits. This though.. this definitely wasn't how she'd felt after any of them. In fact, she couldn't recall ever feeling this way and that thought alone had her body stiffening in realisation.
Eyes now open; she sucks in her lips, brow furrowed as she tries to wrap her head around the idea that she just might have feelings for her best friend. It's the absolute last thing anyone wants to be faced with after a drunken one night stand, even more so when said friend was supposedly straight.
Grimacing; she finally finds it within herself to roll over, preparing herself for the most awkward conversation possible, only to be faced with empty space. Her stomach sinks and before she has time to convince herself that she's just gone to the bathroom, she spots the note on the side table. She knows it won't hold anything she wants to read and screams at herself to turn back around and pretend none of this ever happened.
Being the masochist she is, her hand reaches out, shaking ever so slightly as it hovers over the ripped paper. She's sat up now, back against the wall as she stares at the perfect calligraphy she'd come to recognize as Quinn's but nothing's going in. Her eyes look blankly at the paper, not acknowledging the words as they run repeatedly over the small message.
Finally; the words absorb into her mind, eyes widening further with each word and she thinks she might throw up from how quickly everything just did a 360.
Morning,
I've gone on the hunt for showers seeing as you would sleep through the zombie apocalypse. Don't leave or I'll be locked out,
Q x
Unable to stop the smile creeping across her face, she rolled back down into her bed, squeezing her eyes tight for an entirely different reason as she tried to control the racing of her heart. Turning to look up at the ceiling, the grin refuses to leave her lips as she the nerves from earlier settle back in, all too comfortably.
The sound of her door opening brings her back to reality as she leans up on one elbow, heat warming her cheeks as Quinn slides into the room in nothing but a towel, her towel. Hazel eyes find her easily, noting the message still held between caramel fingers as she rests her back to the door.
"Hey.."