Showers
Santana never would have thought it possible to actually enjoy the school showers. The water never seemed to grow warmer than tepid, the pressure was weak, and always before she had had to worry about keeping her eyes entirely averted from other girls, just in case they happened to notice her gaze lingering just a tad longer than was able to be easily explained. She had tried to divert this as a possibility by instead going out of her way to accuse other girls of looking at her for too long, or mocking their bodies, just to make everyone positive that she would never look at them out of anything but disgust. School showers were a place where she had to be on guard at all times, a place to get in and get out of as fast as humanly possible with her reputation and dignity still intact.
But it had been a long, tiring day, physically, mentally, and emotionally, and when Quinn suggested they go together to the girl's locker room and shower, Santana was more than willing to agree. She followed her, tightly grasping her hand and frequently looking around to make sure that no one was following as they made their way through halls that were very familiar, yet so eerily still and silent that Santana wanted to flinch at every small noise she heard. As they entered the locker room, flipping on the lights, and made their way to the showers, they had to search to scrounge up leftover shampoo, soap, washcloths, and towels, because although Quinn had thought to bring all of these things, they hadn't yet bothered to move them out of the back of her mother's car.
Normally Santana would have balked at even the thought of washing her hair with anything other than her very expensive, specialized brand of shampoo, let alone scrubbing her skin with anything other than her own chosen brand of soap. Her skin was sensitive and grew rough easily, and her hair was difficult to manage even in the best of times. But why did it matter what she looked like or felt like anymore, with only Quinn around to see? Half the time they weren't taking showers in the first place; it didn't seem like a big enough deal to bother, if they weren't doing anything to get dirty and no one but each other would know or care if they were a little grungy or smelly.
Santana had been wearing the same shirt and jeans for two days now. In the world before, this would have been utterly unacceptable; now, it was standard course of action. She didn't have access to her own clothing, and even if she had, no one but Quinn would know she was reusing. Nevertheless, despite her relaxed standards of hygiene, Quinn's suggestion had made her realize that she did indeed feel a little grungy as she ran a hand through her oily hair, making a face at the snags and snarls her fingers encountered.
Her breath caught as she watched Quinn undress, with none of the self-consciousness she had grown to associate with Quinn over the years. Despite the rougher standard of living they were growing used to, and the fact that Quinn too had been wearing the same clothing for a few days, Quinn's skin remained smooth, pale, and enticing, almost begging Santana to touch. When she tore her eyes away, still somewhat uncertain as to just when and how it was that the two of them could touch or look, Quinn stepped closer, the ghost of a smile curving her lips as she reached for Santana's hand.
"San? Do you…want me to wash your hair?"
There was uncertainty in her voice, a slight tension in her brow as she waited for Santana's response, as though a part of her still feared that her answer would be no, and this was undoubtedly true. There had been little discussion between them, both of them seeming to find it easier to express themselves with touch or looks alone, but although this seemed to do a decent job of conveying messages, there was still much room left for guessing and uncertainty.
Santana nodded, squeezing Quinn's hand, and then dropped it, finishing removing her own clothing- and well aware of Quinn's eyes on her, the entire time. It still felt strange, standing alone in the nearly silent room that she had never before been in without dozens of other girls close by, but as they stepped forward together, starting the shower, and Santana took a breath, turning her back to Quinn for her to begin her assistance, she barely noticed the silence anymore.
Quinn's fingers were gentle but stronger than Santana would have expected as they worked her hair into a lather, her nails lightly scraping at her scalp. Santana closed her eyes, her head tilted back, and let herself slowly relax, enjoying how carefully Quinn combed her fingers through the length of her locks, over and over, as though determined to leave not one bit of shampoo, not one single tangle. When Quinn's hands brushed over the tops of her shoulders, then slowly, tentatively down her back, Santana tensed, turning her head, and when she met her gaze and saw how quickly Quinn was drawing in her breaths, there was no option but to turn to her, her arms coming to wrap around Quinn as she drew her in close to her, her lips coming to meet hers.
They probably got much dirtier, that night, before they could finish getting clean, but it seemed a very even trade off to them both.