August 2015, New York City
TriBeCa, A Room with a View

There's this conception that watching someone while they're sleeping is extremely creepy. Clearly, those people aren't in love, nor do they sleep with the most beautiful person in the world on a regular basis. Santana often found herself watching her girlfriend, who she was in love with and thought was the most beautiful person in the world, sleep. Usually, Quinn would fall asleep before Santana and somehow, Santana would usually wake up before Quinn. By now, Santana could probably mimic Quinn's breathing pattern from memory and there was no way she'd be able to fall asleep without hearing the quiet snore that let her know that Quinn was asleep.

This afternoon's post-coital slumber was no different. For the last ten minutes Santana had been awake watching Quinn. She knew that she should probably get up and start getting ready for their evening, but she couldn't get herself to leave the bed. Outside of the bed, the A/C had been blasting cold air for two hours and inside, with Quinn, it was warm. She wasn't exactly dressed for the temperature change that would happen when she removed the covers, either.

After another five minutes of staring and internal debating, Santana finally decided to tear her eyes away and bear the frigid air. She leaned forward to kiss Quinn's cheek and started to lift her half of the covers off of her.

"Finally done staring at me?"

"Uhhh..." Santana released as she stopped moving.

Quinn giggled and reached out to pull Santana back towards her.

"How long have you been awake?" Santana asked afraid that Quinn was one of those people that thinks staring at someone while they sleep is creepy.

"How long have you been staring at me?" Quinn asked through a smile as she slid her leg over both of Santana's, preventing her from moving.

"I... don't... know...?"

Quinn kissed Santana's shoulder and whispered, "It's okay. It's sweet. But you woke me up."

"Sorry," Santana whispered back, still feeling a little embarrassed that she was caught.

Quinn rolled her eyes, yawned and asked, "What time is it?"

"Quarter to five," Santana answered back and then caught the contagion that is yawning.

"You should probably start getting ready," Quinn said with a smirk.

"Then let me up!" Santana laughed and didn't even attempt to move out from underneath Quinn.

"But you're such a great body pillow," Quinn giggled as she buried her face into Santana's shoulder.

"Okay, you can't tell me to get up and then hold me here," Santana said rolling her eyes.

Quinn tightened her grip around Santana briefly and then let go completely. She frowned and let her displeasure known through an, "Okay."

Santana reached up to cup Quinn's cheek and leaned in to steal a kiss from her lips. "I love you," she sighed when she took her lips back.

Quinn was wearing that face... the one that always showed up right before she said, "I love you, too." It was Santana's favorite expression, just beating out Quinn's O face...

Through a smirk that appeared with her last thought, Santana prepped herself to leave the bed and said, "Well, here I go." She paused, thinking, 'like a Band-Aid,' then flipped the covers off and jumped out of the bed. "Holy crap!"

Quinn's stifled laughter bubbled over as she blurted out, "Those things could probably cut diamonds!"

"That isn't the expression," Santana deadpanned as she pulled on a pair of shorts.

"I know, but-"

"I have to get ready!" Santana huffed and walked out of the room as Quinn's laughter grew louder. She stomped down the hallway and slammed the bathroom door behind her... for no reason... which she was completely aware of and started laughing when she realized what Quinn meant. Her laughter slowed and she was suddenly aware of knocking on the door, "yeah?"

"Can I use your computer?" Santana could hear Quinn's pout through the door. She was pouting because she knew Santana hated it when anyone that wasn't Santana touched her lap top.

She also knew that Santana couldn't deny the pout... and Santana knew that Quinn knew, but still, "Yeah sure. Be careful!"

"I know, beautiful!"

Santana sighed, turned on the water and thought about how much she must love that girl.

Twenty minutes later as she wiped down the mirror, she debated whether or not she should brush her teeth. A simple question directed to her girlfriend would solve that, "Hey Q?" She waited a couple seconds for a response but received nothing. Concluding that she wasn't loud enough the first time, she upped the decibel of her call, "BABE!"

"Uhwhat?" Santana heard Quinn break out of some sort of concentration to respond.

"You hungry? I can make something while you get ready."

"Yeah sure," Quinn sounded really distracted. Usually when Santana suggested making one of her original concoctions, Quinn would instantly ask what she was making. With her curiosity blooming, Santana wrapped her towel around herself and stepped out into the hallway.

"What are you doing?"

'I hate how my voice sounds recorded... wait... what?'

"I'm trying to take a picture, but nothing's happening."

Santana stopped dead in her tracks, the sound of a voice she hadn't heard in three years smacking her in the face and hurdling her back in time.

"I forgot this thing even had a camera," Santana said as she crept up behind her high school love.

"I know," the blonde giggled at the Latina's soft lips on her bare shoulder.

Without looking up at the lap top to attempt to figure out what Brittany might be doing wrong, Santana put more deliberation in her movements. Her kisses turned into bites and sucks and Brittany's giggles turned into moans.

In perfect sync and without removing their lips from each other, they both lifted themselves and moved to the bed behind them. The very little amount of clothing they had on found its way to the floor in seconds and in just as little time, Santana's mouth found Brittany's nipple.

"San..."

The towel clad Santana of today shook her head hard after hearing her name moaned out by someone who hadn't done so in years. No matter how hard she shook her head though, the images inside of it remained and the voices kept playing in the kitchen. She saw it all in third person, the same way anyone would that watched the video that Brittany accidentally recorded.

"Oh my god... San."

Santana's hand went to her chest as she felt it caving in. She knew it wasn't actually imploding, but it felt damn close to it. Then, without even thinking about it, her legs were carrying her forward towards the kitchen and the sounds from the past she'd finally gotten over. Caught somewhere between horror and rage, all Santana was aware of was that the video kept playing and Quinn didn't look up from it when Santana entered the kitchen.

Watching Quinn watch a video that Santana had gladly forgotten even existed, the horror that mixed with the rage and fogged her mind completely, disappeared and all she could see was a shade of red she hadn't seen in quite some time. Then Quinn did something that completely set her over the edge: she smirked. Gulping away the lump in her throat that would have prevented anything coherent from coming out, Santana balled her fists at her sides and hissed, "What are you doing?"

Quinn jumped, finally looking up from the screen. Without stopping it, she spoke over the moans coming from the speakers, "Watching a beautiful piece of cinema." And there was that smirk again.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Santana's rage spat out as she lunged forward to shut the lap top and make the relentless sounds of the past end.

"S, it's okay," Quinn said through a soft smile and reached her hand out to stroke Santana's forearm.

Violently, Santana yanked her hand away. After rubbing away the pain from slamming her knuckles into the refrigerator's handle, she ground out, "It is not okay! Does it look like I think this is okay? Why the fuck would you even open that, let alone watch the whole fucking thing?"

Standing up from the stool she'd calmly been sitting on, Quinn placed both of her palms on the counter top and leaned forward towards Santana, "Why did you keep it?"

Her voice was low but her tone was deliberate and for some reason it sent Santana flying over the edge that she'd been towing since she had entered the kitchen. With thinking completely out the window at this point, Santana took a breath and sent something blindly out of her mouth, "I didn't think that a nosy bitch would go through all of my old files."

For the second time, Santana felt herself freeze but this time, regret hit her like a high school slushie.

She watched as Quinn slowly removed her palms from the countertop and backed away from the island. The hurt spread across her face and Santana felt tears approaching as it happened. She really knew she had thoroughly fucked up when Quinn's lips curled into themselves and she said dryly, "I'm going to get ready. We'll be late for the show."

Quinn padded her way around the island, deliberately away from Santana. All Santana could do was watch her and then listen as she walked down the hall to their room and then across the hall to bathroom where she didn't even slam the door. A door slam would indicate anger, Santana could deal with anger, but Quinn wasn't angry.

No matter how many times Santana said she was sorry, Quinn refused to say a word to her from the instant she stepped out of the bathroom until now, in the lobby of an off-Broadway theatre waiting for Rachel to come out. Luckily, Kurt was there with plenty of conversation, but unfortunately, he was far too perceptive for his own good and without saying anything made it clear he could tell the girls weren't speaking to each other.

As Rachel stepped out of the theatre's entrance, Santana threw on the biggest smile she could muster even though she knew Rachel would know it was fake. The three of them waited as Rachel signed Playbills and took pictures with the adoring fans she'd always wanted.

"So, where are we going to dinner? I'm famished," Rachel sighed as she finally approached her friends.

"Honey, that was the best thing you've ever done!" Kurt beamed and wrapped up his roommate in a giant hug.

"Thank you," Rachel smiled modestly.

"Really, Rach, that was fantastic," Quinn said stepping forward and mimicking Kurt's gesture.

"Thank you, Quinn."

And then it was Santana's turn. She was so distracted she could barely think of something to say to her best friend that she just watched sing and act her ass off for two hours. "You were soo good," she mustered and then quickly pulled Rachel into a hug.

As soon as she felt Rachel's hair brush her cheek, she heard her whisper, "I know that fake smile anywhere."

"I'm sorry," Santana whispered back.

"It's okay," Rachel said as she pulled away, "Let's go to that place on 9th and 46th," she suggested to the group.

"Mercury Bar?" Kurt questioned clearly excited about the choice.

"Yup!" Rachel said popping the 'p' a little too hard and then threaded her arm into Santana's, "Lead the way G-Biff!"

Kurt rolled his eyes and turned Quinn around to walk out of the theatre. Rachel kept Santana back a few steps and the second the started walking, fired away, "What did you say to her?"

"What makes you think that this is my fault?" Santana said trying to sound offended, but failing miserably.

"You couldn't even fake offense at that."

Santana sighed and contemplated the quickest way to tell Rachel what had happened without sounding like the biggest asshole on the planet. She rapidly came to the conclusion that it was impossible for her not to sound like she was an asshole for what she'd said.

After a deep breath Santana exhaled, "Quinn found this video on my computer... of... of Brittany and me..."

"And you flipped out?" Rachel asked in an understatement.

"I called her a nosy bitch," Santana breathed out as she saw the blue lights of the bar they were on their way to come into view.

"You're an idiot."

That's all Rachel had to say. She didn't have to say why. She didn't have to say that Santana had to fix it. As always, Rachel was absolutely right.

"I know."


A/N: You didn't think there wouldn't be any flashbacks did you? What would a WLJALTL sequel be without flashbacks? Completely inconsistent. Duh. Anyways, as always I'd love to know what you think. It makes me want to write more. I guess I'm just a writing whore who likes to be paid in compliments... okay I'll stop. Sorry. That won't happen again.