I own nothing.

Santana's POV:

Even with all her inexperience, Q really knew what she's going. Maybe all those years of praying instead of having sex did her some good because she got me off three times before I finally had to start getting ready for work. I hated having to leave her with Berry and Hummel, but I couldn't call in sick. Now, that I'm living on my own, I needed to have money coming in.

I thought about kissing her before I left, but that felt too much like what a couple might do. Plus, Berry was already there helping Q plan their night of debauchery. I saw Quinn roll her eyes at least 3 times and it made me think back to a different time when it was the Unholy Trinity against the world. We threw slushies at people like Rachel Berry and Kurt Hummel and dated the guys who tossed him in the dumpster. Somehow, we ended up here in this place where Berry is sitting on my couch and Kurt will be joining them later for whatever it is they're doing. Quinn and I had talked a lot about New Haven recently. Well, before she got here recently. We haven't really talked a lot about anything since she's been here, but I blame her for that one. I could tell by her tone that she liked New Haven and Yale, but that she didn't love it. She could act with everyone else, but I know her tells and she would so lose at poker with me at the table. She bites her lip when she's nervous about having to say something she really doesn't want to say. She squints her eyes and furrows her brow at the same time when she's trying to think of a way to answer someone's question. She plays with her hands in her lap when she's trying to exaggerate. When she does all three of those things at once, I can tell she's making something sound better than it really is. I saw her look up at me from the couch as I was grabbing my purse to go and she shook her head in disbelief that she was spending the night hanging with Rachel and I realized we were on the same page with our thoughts. I winked and mouthed "have fun" and headed out.

I probably should have asked them to stop by the bar, but I needed my space tonight. My brain was on overdrive trying to figure out what's been going on between us. I probably should have stopped it, but I'd been thinking about sex with her since Valentine's Day and I knew she wanted it too. Also, I was kind of dreaming about it when she woke me up anyway so I was really at a loss for how to stop it at that point. I had no idea what this meant now. I know she doesn't want it to be a thing and I don't want it to be a thing. The reasons we're just friends are still there. Nothing's really changed except that we added to our number of encounters.

As I poured drinks for drunkards at the bar, I was thinking about those encounters and trying not to over pour shot glasses and waste precious booze. Normally, when people buy me drinks, I don't actually drink them, but tonight I downed some shots and slipped some phone numbers in my back pocket knowing I'd never use them, but doing that got me more free drinks and by 3 when I was heading home, I knew I was drunk and shouldn't walk or take the train by myself. I grabbed my purse, tossed the napkins and cards with numbers on them in the trash and asked one of the girls I work with to call me a cab. When it arrived, I hopped in and took out my phone. I had 5 missed texts from Quinn.

Quinn 11:24pm: Rachel is asleep on my shoulder after our third Broadway musical. I think I might die.

I laughed my drunk laugh and the cab driver talking in a foreign language on his blue tooth stared at me like I'm the crazy person.

"Eyes on the road. I called you so I wouldn't die in a horrible accident."

My eyes returned to the phone.

Quinn 12:33: Hope you're having fun at work. I'm getting ready to go to sleep. I don't care if you wake me up when you get back. Just let me know this time if you're staying somewhere else.

Always a worrier, that girl.

Quinn 1:04: So, I'm still awake and I'm thinking I want to do what we did earlier again. Thoughts?

Quinn 1:06: Okay. I may have had a couple of drinks with Rachel earlier and then I drank some stuff you have here so I'm probably drunk.

Quinn Fabray is drunk texting me a booty call. This is hilarious… hilarious and awesome.

Omar the cab driver swerved to miss someone on a bike. Yes, his name is actually Omar. I looked at his ID. I'm not a racist. I leaned in to make sure he could hear me through the plastic window.

"Seriously dude, I may be having some hot sex tonight. If you get me killed before that happens, I will come back, kill you and make it look like an accident."

He turned to look at me and gave me a wink and a smirk.

"Never gonna happen, buddy."

I sat back and scrolled down to the last message.

Quinn 2:05: Friends with benefits is a terrible idea, right?

"Omar, get me home in less than 5 minutes without killing me and you'll get the tip of your life." Wait. "Cash. That tip is cash." I felt that given our previous exchange, I should clarify. He was only half listening anyway as his blue tooth chimed again and he took yet another call. Omar's a popular guy at 3am.

I sobered up pretty quickly to consider Q's suggestion in the back of that cab. Friends with benefits only worked in Ashton Kutcher movies and I would never have thought Quinn would be up for anything like that. It was probably just the alcohol in her system suggesting this. She clearly gets all hot and bothered when she's intoxicated. I made a mental note of this to refer back to later. She is so hot sometimes though and what's even better is that she has no idea. I don't think I can resist what she's offering. I'll save the good decisions for my thirties.

When I arrived home, I opened the door loudly in an attempt to wake her up. What? She said not to worry about it. I didn't need too though because she was sitting on the couch watching TV. She was slouched over and there was an empty glass on the table in front of her.

"Hey drinky," I offered as I threw my keys on the kitchen table and tossed my purse next to them.

"So, you got my texts then? Yeah, sorry about that. Rachel was boring me and then Kurt did like a fashion show with broaches and then I drank to fight the boredom and my desire to yank the broaches off him and throw them in a river and then I drank because I was almost drunk anyway."

I put my phone on the coffee table as she forced herself to sit up on the couch. She was wearing the Yale hoodie she had given me and an old pair of cheer shorts.

"I thought you gave that to me." I motioned to the hoodie.

She smiled.

"I did, but I was cold and it was there."

I laughed at her. Drunk Quinn may be my favorite Quinn and not just because of the sex. "Then, why are you wearing shorts?"

"Because I was drunk cold. You know? You're cold then you're hot then you're cold again. Shorts with a sweatshirt. Perfect combination. Do you want it back?" She smiled shyly.

"Are you still cold?"

"No."

"Then, yeah."

She pulled the sweatshirt over her head while I walked toward her. I helped her toss it on the floor and sat down to straddle her.

"Hi." I greeted from my new position.

"Hi. How was work?" Her arms went around my waist and I thought she was just doing it to hold me in place for a minute, but then moved under my shirt.

"Do you really want to talk about my job right now?" I took in a deep breath as hands moved over my back and she played with the clasp on my bra.

"Is this you saying yes to my drunk text?"

"You mean your booty call? Yes, but this is me saying maybe to your overall concept. I think we should talk more when we're both sober."

"You're drunk too? You don't seem drunk." She squinted at me in disbelief.

"I'm a little drunk. I had to drink tonight to try to get my mind off of what we did earlier. Just so you know, it didn't really work."

I leaned down to kiss her gently before I pulled back to check her reaction.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this when we're like this."

"This was your idea, Fabray. Also, I think we've already crossed that bad decision bridge, don't you?"

She lifted her hands to help me lift my shirt over my head so I was left in my bra. She leaned in and kissed between my breasts.

"You smell like smoke. You need to take a shower."

"I work at a bar. I smell like smoke and beer and low self-esteem and regret and God knows what else."

"Shower."

She kissed me a little higher and higher until she kissed around my jawline and my hands moved to lift off her shirt. She had taken her bra off earlier apparently.

"Hot."

"Yes, take a hot shower." Drunk Quinn is not necessarily the smartest of the Quinns. She kissed me again.

"No dumb ass, I mean you are hot."

She laughed and blushed at the same time and I stood up and pulled her with me.

"Let's go shower."

"I've already showered today, San."

"Not like this, you haven't."