It's been too long, I know. I'm embarrassed, really. I do have a bunch of excuses piled up, but I'm sure you just want to read the story. I tried to make this chapter a little happier but still a way to forecast and provide an opening for the problems looming in the distance. (Afterall, you guys do want some Quinntana loving before you get wrinkles, right?) The next one or two chapters after this one are heavy so be warned!
Oh, and thanks for all the love! It makes my life a little sweeter.
Happy Sunday!
7:46 a.m.- Lima, Ohio
Santana jumps out of bed as soon as she hears Quinn call her name from the bathroom.
"Santana! This is like my fifty-millionth time calling you!"
"What, Quinn?" Santana puts her ear to the bathroom door. "No, you can't use my vibrator," she says. Quinn huffs.
"Are you going to help me or not?"
Santana smirks. "I think you can get the job done yourself. Just use more fingers."
"Oh my God! Santana!"
She can just picture the look on Quinn's face and it makes her laugh. "Okay, Okay. I'm sorry. What do you need?"
"A tampon."
Santana, still as immature as she was in the sixth grade, scrunches up her nose. "Ew. You're on your period? Are you gonna be moody now?" She jumps away from the door when something crashes against it.
"SANTANA!" Quinn roars. Santana, scurries to her suitcase and pulls out a tampon and panty liner for Quinn. She then runs back to the bathroom and opens the door (because she knows Quinn didn't lock it).
She's met with the sight of Quinn on the toilet- dress bunched up around her waist- and bent over so her hair is tickling the floor. Quinn groans.
"And some pain-killers please." She runs her words together in a big moan. Santana hands Quinn the necessities when she sits up and then exits the bathroom to get Quinn some kind of pain killer. She doesn't have any, so she tears up Quinn's purse and suitcase to find them.
Under the many, many thongs and shoes, Santana finds at least six different pill bottles. She grabs the ibuprofen and takes it to Quinn.
When she gets back to the bathroom, Quinn is washing her hands. Santana sets the pill bottle on the sink next to her mess of face products... So what she picked up a beauty routine or two from the twins in New York? Her side of the sink is horrendously messy and the direct opposite of Quinn's side.
"What's with all those pills?" Santana demands. It concerns her that Quinn has as many pill bottles as she does mascara. Quinn glances at her through the mirror.
"Um... nothing. You know I have back pain."
"And the other two hundred bottles?"
Quinn turns the water off and dries her hands. "Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to."
11:27 a.m. Lima, Ohio
Santana stops Quinn before she can leave the hotel room. "Q, are you r-"
Quinn holds up a hand to cut her off. "I am really okay. Quit asking about the damn pills."
"Okay, one, I know you're on your period and everything, but that doesn't give you an excuse to be a mega bitch. And two, I wasn't even going to ask that because I don't give a shit about the pills. I was going to ask if you were ready to open the box?" Santana rambles, putting on her best glare afterwards. "But I don't even want to anymore." She states and turns away from Quinn.
She doesn't look over when Quinn comes to stand beside her.
"I'm going to Puck's house today," Quinn reveals.
Santana examines her nails, picking at the black nail polish. "What time? I have some places to go."
"Like where?" Quinn leans into Santana but she stays stiff as a board. Quinn will have to apologize for snapping at her this time. She won't let the blonde off the hook this easily.
"Just-" Santana pauses, getting frustrated with herself and all of Quinn's organization around her. It's ridiculous. "What time?" she demands, stepping away from Quinn to remove all contact with smooth skin.
"Don't know. I'll figure it out. Clean your side of the sink before I get back."
"Where are you going?" Santana asks. When Quinn laughs she looks at her. Her eyes follow Quinn's shape in her one-piece bathing suit. "Oh, swimming. We need to buy you a yellow bikini."
"Yellow?" Quinn rolls her eyes and pushes Santana down on the bed. When the door clicks behind Quinn, Santana flops her body on the bed and imagines Quinn in said bikini even though she's still mad at the blonde.
2:16 p.m. - Lima, Ohio
Quinn never did feel welcome in Puck's house. His mother was so stern and rude. Especially when she was pregnant. But Puck assured her that his mother was out for the week on some business trip.
Quinn sits on a chair by herself, stiff as a board. Puck and Santana share the loveseat, the later draped all over Puck.
It annoys Quinn in ways it shouldn't. "Santana," she scolds. She knows she sounds like somebody's mother- a comment she's sure either one of the two sitting across from her would make if she wasn't actually a mother. "He hasn't been questioned yet."
"He didn't do it. I already know. I questioned him," Santana responds, shifting in the seat. Quinn can only observe the two move with each other as if they were a married couple. They shift and change until Santana's sitting upright and Puck's head is in her lap. "I'm glad you shaved this shit off."
Quinn huffs. "See, I knew I shouldn't bring you."
"Santana, listen to your mother," Puck teases. Santana slaps his chest.
"Don't say things like that. She doesn't like it."
"She is right here," Quinn says sharply enough that both Puck and Santana look at her in shock. Then Santana rolls her eyes.
"Quinn's just upset that she didn't get any sleep last night."
"You kept moving!"
"I was having a bad dream." Santana crosses her arms. Puck then moves his attention away from Quinn and back to Santana.
"Speaking of nightmares," Puck starts. "When is your next commercial airing?"
Quinn glances at Santana with question while the brunette's cheeks grow a little rosy.
"You're not supposed to talk about it," Santana hisses, hitting Puck's cheek lightly.
"What commercial?" Quinn asks.
"Nothing!" Santana quickly says over the beginning of Puck's sentence. The girl then flies up the stairs leaving Puck and Quinn alone.
"Have you seen Beth recently?" Quinn asks, looking down at her nails.
"No," he responds. "Why didn't you come home for the funeral?"
Quinn takes a while to decide what her best answer should be. If it was anyone else, she would have said "I didn't like him," or "I'm sure he hated me," but this is Puck. Finn's best friend. So she settles with, "I don't know," which ought to appease him.
"You know."
"I guess you have spent enough time around me to see through my bullshit." Quinn sighs and her phone buzzes in her pocket. She pulls it out and her eyes scan a text from Rachel saying how Santana needs to call her right now because she has some life-altering information.
"Have you seen Beth?"
"No." Quinn says sharply. "Shelby doesn't like me."
On that sour note, Santana swings back into the room- an angry blur.
"I am not," Santana starts. "A middle aged mother of two who has had on and off yeast infections for years and you do not know because we didn't ever sleep together!"
Quinn, confused, glances from Puck's guilty and playful face to Santana's embarrassed and enraged one.
"You know we used to have sex," Puck says. Santana rolls her eyes dramatically.
"It was never memorable."
"Wait." Quinn holds up a hand. "Why would you have yeast?" She questions. Puck sniggers and Santana drops her head.
"You really haven't seen the commercial," Puck says.
"I don't watch TV, I barely even have enough time to study a-"
Santana interrupts her. "Because you're always hooking up with somebody," she points an accusing finger at Quinn before turning her body (but leaving the finger on Quinn) to Puck, "and I don't want her to see the commercial."
Puck stands and motions for Quinn to do the same. Quinn glances at Santana and realizes that the look on her face is defeat mixed with embarrassment.
"Follow me." Puck says so Quinn follows him upstairs.
It's been years since Quinn has been in Puck's room and it hasn't changed at all really. It still stinks, it still has clothes on every surface, and there are still pornographic magazines and videos strewn all over the place.
And yet, no jacket. Turns out Santana was right.
Puck motions Quinn over to the computer and she goes, hearing Santana's whimper of a protest at the door. He presses play and her jaw drops when she sees Santana because in the video the girl does look like a middle aged mother of two. Maybe the trophy wife or soccer mom type.
When the video ends, Quinn turns to Santana who's staring at her feet, still standing in the doorway. "Santana… and where did this air?"
"It was aired nationally." The girl grumbles in response. She wants to laugh really badly, but she doesn't because of the look on Santana's face.
"That's really bad," Quinn chokes out. "Do people treat you differently?"
"Not as different as they did during the airing of my first commercial," Santana says and she stomps out of the room.
5:04 p.m.- Lima, Ohio
The Cheerios are still practicing when she gets to the school. She knows because Cheerios practice ends at six (unless someone messes up the routine or pukes). Quinn doubts the rules have changed just because Sue is the principal now.
She's scheduled an appointment with Emma because the redhead knows basically everything even though she says nothing. Quinn admires that about the doe-eyed woman and wishes she had that ability.
"Hi, Quinn. It's so nice to see you again." Emma is practically glowing and Quinn can't help the bile in her throat when she thinks that all this glowing is because of Schue.
"Hey, Emma," Quinn greets. The woman looks a bit taken back by Quinn's use of her first name but, Quinn is no longer a student.
"How have you been?"
Quinn wants to roll her eyes because she's sure Emma doesn't really care how she's been and she doesn't care how Emma's been.
"Fine," Quinn responds. "But I'm here for a real reason. I don't just want to relive highschool." She's being rude, she knows, and Emma's face morphs from composed, to shocked, to nervous. "So you and Schue are trying for a baby?" Quinn asks.
"How- how do you know?"
"I smell it," Quinn deadpans. She shakes her head to show she's changing the subject. "Finn died, you know."
"I- I know, Quinn. You're acting an awful lot like Santana."
"Is that a bad thing?" Quinn snatches her eyes from the pamphlets to Emma's, daring her to say something negative about Santana.
The woman shakes her head rapidly. "No, no. It isn't. But why are you here?"
"Well, Finn died." Quinn sighs.
"Yes, I know that!" Emma snaps. Quinn raises her eyebrows as Emma takes a deep breath. "I," she continues, "wish not to relive that just as you wish not to relive highschool."
"Then I'm sure you'd know why I'm here if I said I was here regarding Santana," Quinn stands. "And I know you know where Finn's-" Quinn cuts herself off because she is about to say all kinds of ungodly things.
Emma nods. "Oh, yes, the poor girl lost his jacket. All four years she was here, I tried to help her with her organizational skills. Especially after I saw her car." Emma continues rambling and Quinn just wonders how it is that Emma saw the inside of Santana's car. Of course, Quinn has seen Santana's car. She drove it here today (since Santana wouldn't drive her) and it is horribly messy. If she entered, Santana's car could be on one of those pack-rat shows or something… "But no. I don't know where it is."
Quinn finds this extremely hilarious that Emma is lying to her face. She's absolutely positive Emma has some kind of lead. "I used to be just like you, you know. I was helpful, nice, knew everything but kept everyone's secrets," Quinn pauses, leaning over Emma's desk. "But then, I grew up."
Emma's chair shoots backwards when she stands and it knocks down some of the pamphlets. "Get out of my office, Quinn."
"Why? I'm not done. Where the hell is Finn's jacket?" The room goes silent except for Emma's labored breathing. Emma shrugs,
"I don't know. I honestly don't."
Quinn, due to her psychology classes, knows from Emma's body language that the woman is lying her little ass off. "You better hope for the sake of you and your husband's jobs that you're telling me the truth."
"Out," Emma breathes.
"Gladly." Just as she's about to close the door behind her, she says, "And don't talk shit about Santana."
She ignores Will's waving as she stomps out of the school and hops into Santana's car. She sends a message to Santana.
I understand why you didn't want to come here with me. –Q
6:41 p.m. Lima, Ohio
Santana raps on the heavy wood door in front of her. It's been a while since she came to this looming house and even though it used to be hers, it intimidates the shit out of her. It's way less friendly and inviting looking than her abuela's house. The irony of it all is that the people in this house accepted her and help her while her abuela kicked her out.
But Santana's whole life is one big ironic piece of crap and she's convinced that Dios has a sense of humor.
The door opens and behind it is a woman, Evelyn, the caretaker of the house (and for the longest time, Santana's stand-in mother).
"Hola, Santanita." Evelyn grins at her, grabs her shoulders, and embraces her. Evelyn is about the same age as Santana's mother, she just looks older from the laugh and frown lines that decorate her eyes and the gray hairs splattered all in her tightly pulled bun.
Santana melts into the hug. Evelyn smells like simpler times and happier days and home.
"Hi, Ev." Santana mumbles into the woman's shirt.
Evelyn steps back and looks her up and down. "I was wondering when you'd come home."
Santana just smiles and moves out of the way so Evelyn can close the door behind her. Santana's eyes dance over the many pictures of her in her various stages of life until she hears heels clacking on the dark polished wood steps.
"Evelyn, ¿Quién es?"
Santana identifies the voice as her mother's. Evelyn then says something that translates to our lost child who's no longer in college. She really must want to give both of her mothers a heart attack.
Ay, Santana really has to get used to their "joking" again. They only joke that way around her (and she's sure it's because they used to have a little thing, but who is Santana to judge?).
"Santana!" Her mother's accent and voice soothes her in ways that nobody else's can. It melts like butter and coats her whole body with a warmth that she would describe as love. The clacking on the stairs quickens until Santana is face to face with her mother.
"Oh, m'ija, look at you! Mírate!" She envelopes Santana in a tight hug that is the complete opposite from Evelyn's soft one. But Santana's mother is a fierce woman and everything she does is that way. That's where you get it from, m'ija, Elisa Lopez is known to say. "You're too skinny." She declares. Santana shakes her head. She knew that remark was coming sooner than later. "Come eat."
Santana bites back the urge to ask, "¿Dónde está papa?" because she knows the answer already. "He's in surgery. Saving a life," or "he's fucking his slutty secretary. Creating a life."
As far as she knows, though, she doesn't have any little siblings. But then again, if she did, it wouldn't surprise her.
10:37 p.m.- Lima, Ohio
Quinn wiggles the toes on her left foot and leans over to watch Santana closely. "I'll never be able to do designs as well as you can." She rests her back on the back of the chair, closes her eyes, and exhales.
"Has anyone ever sucked your toes?"
She opens her eyes and finds Santana looking up at her. "No, Santana," she responds, teasing smirk on her lips. "Why?"
"Just wondering." Santana grins and turns her attention back to Quinn's feet.
"Have you?" She decides to play along with whatever game it is Santana is playing.
"Sucked someone's toes or ever had mine sucked?"
Quinn bites her bottom lip. "Had yours sucked," she clarifies.
"No, but you can suck them if you want to."
Quinn snorts. "No thanks. I'll take you up on your offer some other time." Her foot drops when Santana's hands move away from it.
"Quinn." Santana starts. Quinn makes a noise in the back of her throat, signaling for the girl to continue because there's a tone in her voice that she's never heard Santana use before. "Do I look middle aged?"
Quinn struggles not to laugh, remembering what Puck commented on the youtube video of Santana's commercial. "You look around…" Quinn cocks her head to the side and studies the top of Santana's head. "Maybe 24?"
Hot breath hits her toes when Santana huffs. She then looks up at Quinn.
"All done. You like?"
"Love," Quinn says, looking at the ceiling.
"You're not even looking at it!" Santana pouts. To appease Santana, Quinn bends over again.
"Love it," she repeats. "Thanks."
"I hope you have your stuff together. We're checking out tomorrow."
Quinn narrows her eyes. "But we've been here two nights. Where are we going to stay?" She doesn't like the teasing look Santana gives her one bit.
Alexismiau1690- What is wrong with Dani? And yeah, San's the big spoon in the friendship. She doesn't appreciate it, but I'm sure Quinn does.
Silent12reader - Why is Dani sick? Dantana does have potential and I love them and it will be revealed why she is sick later. Just keep in mind that there are reliable narrators and unreliable ones… also if your informant is crazy, your information will be too. Quinn is trying to look for the jacket alone, but Santana won't leave her alone! And it is more fun with both of them!
Shananigan- Thanks! Sometimes these characters are hard to write! And there could be a reason you think Dani has a bun in the oven… or it could be you have an overactive imagination. And you're right… Only time will tell.
ErosEternalGlee- Did Dani cheat? Or did she just eat some bad sushi and hit her head in the shower? But if she is pregnant, that would be very fucked up and Santana's heart would definitely be shattered… again. Santana's family is tricky and messed up in all sorts of ways. I plan to gradually introduce everyone to all of their various problems. Yeah, Mr. S did steal the jacket. And this fic is about their relationship and how it gets stronger and eventually develops because of the jacket. Think of it this way: they're living together, dining together, share the same bathroom, have to get over each other's tiny habits and stuff just to coexist and not go insane. I think as they spend more time together, this will show a little more. It's only been two days and an impromptu visit to Yale so far! And woah, woah, woah. Slow down there! Are you reading my notes and chapter guidelines! How did you know that special people would make an appearance in this fic? I'm watching you…
To all my guest reviewers, thanks for taking the time to review! I love you all!
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