A/N: Ohai friends. So I'm not going to be able to publish what's become the usual Thursday chapter this week cuz I've got a shit load of grading to do and a conference to get ready for. However, I'll be back next Monday with an extra long chapter to make up for it ;)
AND, fair warning, this chapter's a little closer to M than any of the previous ones (possibly nsfw). Enjoy!
Santana wakes to a knocking on her bedroom door. She glances over to her alarm clock, the time reading 7:12 am. "What the fuck?" she yells as she shuts her eyes again, not bothering to turn towards the door.
The door creaks open slightly, and a blonde head pops in. "Hey," she greets softly. "I'm gonna take off, I've gotta go shower and change before school. Do you want a ride?"
Santana groans and rolls over onto her back, now looking at the blonde and squinting in thought. "Nah, I've got cheerios after school."
Quinn nods lightly. "Ok. I left your clothes on the bed. Thanks for inviting me over, it was... fun," the blonde notes, seemingly surprised that the word is honestly spoken. "I'll see you in English?"
"Yeah, yeah, just fuck off already so I can go back to sleep," the Latina says tiredly, waving a hand blindly in the air as she turns back to her original sleeping position. The extra 45 minutes of sleep before Santana's alarm goes off are absolutely necessary, and the more Quinn talks the more she's cutting into that time.
Quinn chuckles and shakes her head slightly as she quietly makes her exit.
Santana pulls into the WMHS parking lot around her normal time, but finds that her usual spot is occupied. She drives around the main lot and the back lot looking for an empty space, but to no avail. For whatever reason, this morning the lots are exceptionally crowded. What the fuck... Santana sighs and decides to park on the street, seeing no other option.
The morning passes relatively quickly. First period with Brittany turns out to be a bit of fun with a language exercise that provides Santana the opportunity to assist the blonde in improving her vocal Spanish. Though Santana's pretty sure the blonde will never be able to properly roll her 'R's, she can't help but laugh at her vain attempts and try to help her out. Second period also turns out to be a lot better than usual. With no awkwardness left between Quinn and the Latina, they actually find themselves laughing together as they dramatically read out scenes from Shakespeare with one another.
When lunch rolls around, Santana grabs her things from her locker and heads to the music room to meet up with Rachel. When she gets to the door, she can hear Rachel doing her vocal warm-ups inside.
She pulls the door open quietly and provides her usual greeting with a light knock on the door. "Hey," she greets softly as she enters the room, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. Rachel turns around and perks up at the sight of the cheerleader.
"Hi," she greets shyly. "I wasn't sure you'd show up..." she trails off nervously, wringing her hands together in front of her body.
Santana raises her hand in a gesture to wave off Rachel's nerves. "Don't be silly. We have to perform tomorrow, and obviously I want to be the best," she smiles.
A smile spreads across Rachel's face in return. "Well good then," she says excitedly, as she skips over to the Latina and hands her some sheet music. Santana just raises an eyebrow at the girl. "I've taken the liberty of arranging the piece to best showcase our respective vocal capabilities," she explains with a bit of playfulness in her voice.
As Rachel skips back over to the piano, Santana looks down at the music in her hands, flipping through the pages before looking back up in disbelief. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," she says with a scoff.
Rachel simply turns her head back to look at the Latina with a questioning expression, "Hm?"
"Um, you've basically got me singing back-up the entire song..." Santana trails off, her eyes back on the sheets in her hands as she flips through them once more.
When Santana looks back up, Rachel nods. "Obviously the best way to do this is to have my far superior voice showcased while you simply enhance its effect with your input." Her expression is as serious as a heart attack as she continues to stare at the cheerleader.
Santana's face completely knots up. Is this girl for fucking real?
As the Latina's face starts to reflect the desired reaction, Rachel just shakes her head with a broad smile and a slight laugh. "I'm just kidding," she clarifies as she walks back up to the now slack-jawed Latina and hands her the proper arrangement.
Santana doesn't know whether to laugh or what. She awkwardly chuckles her disbelief and looks over the new sheets in her hands as she makes her way over to a seat in the front row.
The two spend the rest of the hour going over the arrangement, making minor alterations and just practicing their parts until the warning bell rings. The two stand and start to pack their bags up. Rachel turns toward Santana, "So, should we practice again tomorrow at lunch?"
Santana smiles, "Yeah, I guess that's a pretty solid plan." Aside from the actual practicing there hadn't been much interaction between the pair, both still holding lingering questions about the previous day's kiss and neither willing to vocalize them.
Rachel fidgets with the pencil in her hands. "Well, ok then. I guess I'll see you tomorrow..." she trails off awkwardly as she turns to walk out of the room, at a compete loss for what to say.
"Hey," Santana says softly, reaching out and taking Rachel's retreating hand into her own. Rachel's turns and lifts her eyes to meet the Latina's. "We're ok." Santana says simply, giving the smaller hand a reassuring squeeze. Rachel smiles in return, but turns her head away. Santana reaches up her free hand and lightly holds the diva's cheek, turning her head so that their eyes meet once more. "I mean it," she says as she runs her thumb softly back and forth across the smooth skin.
They stand there like this for a couple seconds, each waiting for the other to make a move, before the door opens and they quickly pop apart. Afternoon session music students are starting to arrive in the classroom. Both girls turn their heads away, aware of the fact that they are sporting Titan red across their faces at the moment.
"Uh, I should get to class," Santana states lamely as she scurries out of the classroom.
"Yeah, me too!" Rachel says a little too excitedly as she follows closely behind.
After cheerios practice the team makes their way back into the locker room. Though today's practice was shorter than Monday's, it was only slightly less gruelling. Santana leans her head on her locker and sighs, a familiar exhaustion running through her body. Brittany skips over and unlocks the locker next to hers, cheerful as ever. Santana turns her head to her right, sending the blonde a smile, completely baffled at how the girl can always be so energetic.
Brittany smiles back and proceeds to strip down. She pulls off her shirt and Santana's eyes instinctively drift over her body. Santana wonders if it's even possible, but the blonde seems to look even better than she did just a couple weeks ago. She catches herself staring and stands upright, turning her attention to opening her own locker.
After showering, Santana changes into jeans and a WMHS track shirt before locking her locker again. Brittany bounces over in her towel, "Hey S," she smiles as she opens her locker.
Santana glances over. "Hey B," she smiles back as she leans her shoulder against the cool metal.
Brittany slides her underwear on, keeping her towel in place as she does, but removes her towel as she reaches in her locker to grab her bra. Santana immediately turns red and turns away from the blonde, who notices and chuckles slightly. Once Brittany has her bra and jeans on she places a soft hand on Santana's shoulder. "It's ok, I'm dressed, you can look now," she smiles as she turns back to her locker to retrieve her shirt.
Santana turns around and her eyes drift up and down the blonde's torso. Two weeks is the longest they've gone without hooking up in a really long time, and Santana can quickly feel the withdrawal effects kicking in. Brittany pulls her shirt on and turns back towards the Latina, who looks slightly flustered. "So, wanna walk out together?"
Santana looks up to Brittany's eyes and smiles, "Sure."
The pair link arms and head out to the back parking lot―where Brittany parks, and close to where Santana had parked for the day. As they reach Brittany's car, the blonde slides her hand down the Latina's arm to grab her hand. "So where did you park today?"
Santana turns to face the blonde and blindly gestures over to the street. Brittany follows the gesture, staring over the Latina's shoulder with a confused look on her face. Santana can't help but ask, "What's up, B?"
Brittany seems to look around slightly before answering. "I don't see your car, San," she responds, a more concerned look now playing across her features.
Santana spins on her heel and notices that her car is, in fact, missing. "What the fuck?" She pulls out of Brittany's grasp and jogs over to where her car should be. It's definitely not there. "Oh my god, someone stole my car." Santana says incredulously, bringing a hand to rest on her forehead.
Brittany jogs over to catch up to the brunette, catching her words. "Um, maybe it just moved," she suggests in all seriousness.
Santana rolls her eyes and, as she does, catches sight of the 'no parking' sign right above her head for the first time. She groans in frustration, dropping her head and running her hands over her face as realization washes over her. "Fuck," she mutters to no one in particular.
Brittany's face screws in concern, "What's wrong?"
Santana sighs, "My car was towed, B."
Brittany paints a sad smile on her face, "So... need a ride?"
It's shortly after 6 by the time the cheerleaders pull into Santana's driveway. They sit in a somewhat awkward silence for a few minutes before Santana turns in her seat to face the blonde. "Do you want to come in for dinner?" she smiles, hoping they can start hanging out again like nothing had ever changed.
A broad smile spreads across Brittany's face and she nods as she turns off the ignition. "What are we having?"
The pair eat a quick meal consisting of grilled cheese sandwiches before making it up to Santana's room. The two cheerleaders lie on their backs with their heads on opposite sides of the bed in silence, with at least Santana feeling utterly exhausted from practice. After about 15 minutes of this, Brittany breaks the silence.
"Is Puck Canadian?" she genuinely inquires.
Santana sits up at the question and gazes down at the blonde in confusion. "Um, what?"
Brittany angles her head to stare at the Latina. "He's been saying 'fucking eh' a lot lately and I thought only Canadians said 'eh'," she says with a serious face.
Santana doesn't want to tease the blonde but can't stifle the laugh that escapes her lips. Brittany's face drops slightly, causing Santana to reach out a hand and place it on the girl's forearm in reassurance. "Oh B," she says with a kind smile. "It's 'fucking A', as in the letter A. It means 'fucking awesome'."
Brittany smiles at the Latina's tender nature of dealing with her. Brittany knows she's not the sharpest tool in the shed, but where most people grow frustrated with her, Santana always takes the time to correct her. The blonde pulls her arm back from Santana's grasp to prop herself up on her elbow as she reaches out her other hand to conjoin their fingers. "Fucking A," she says softly, as if testing out the expression for herself.
Santana lightly chuckles and shakes her head, "Fucking A, B."
The blonde shifts again so that she's upright on her knees, taking Santana's other hand into her free one and throwing a leg over the Latina so that she is now straddling a still sitting-up Santana. Santana decides to play along and see where it's going. The two start play wrestling, arms pushing back and forth. After a few minutes of mutual struggle, Santana gains the advantage and uses it to flip the pair over so that she is now on top of a lying down Brittany.
"Ha! I win!" Santana celebrates, sitting up with her arms raised in victory. To further rub it in, she flexes her right bicep before planting a kiss on it. When she looks back down at the blonde with her tongue out, she can tell that something in those blue eyes has shifted.
Before Santana can even compute what's happening, Brittany reaches up and balls her fists in the Latina's track shirt, pulling her down into a kiss. As Santana reflexively relaxes into the embrace, she braces her weight by putting her hands down on either side of Brittany's shoulders. It's not until the blonde's hands start to creep a little too far up the front of her t-shirt that Santana realizes what's happening and pulls away. She sits back on her heels, removing the blonde's hands by taking them into her own.
She waits until Brittany's eyes meet her own and sighs, "B, I thought we cleared this up. We're just friends now."
"Best friends," Brittany corrects as she arches up to try to kiss the Latina again.
Santana releases her hold on the blonde's hands to gently push her back down by her shoulders. "But we're not dating," she clarifies, moving her hands to rest on her knees.
Brittany runs her now free hands up the insides of Santana's jean-clad thighs, sliding out at the top to latch them onto the Latina's hips. She licks her lips seductively as she squeezes the hips in her grasp lightly before speaking. "But sex isn't dating."
Santana bites her lip as her own words come back to haunt her. She has an all-too-familiar feeling migrating between her legs and her mouth has run dry once again.
Brittany sees the darkness cloud the Latina's eyes at her words and moves one of her hands to cup Santana through her jeans. Santana moans lightly at the contact, causing the blonde to smile knowingly. "You don't have to love me back for us to do this," she says huskily.
Santana's breaths are already bordering on ragged as she stares down at the blue eyes beneath her, filled with sincerity. She feels like shit for doing it, but she nods her head encouragingly.
Brittany's smile spreads the width of her face as she shifts one hand to the back of the Latina's thigh and the other to the small of her back and rolls them both over, now lying flush against the Latina's body. She lightly growls as she captures the lips beneath her. She runs her tongue along the length of Santana's bottom lip, begging for entry.
Santana opens her mouth and lets herself fade into Brittany. She puts her hands on the blonde's hips and squeezes them before letting her hands slide around the lithe body and up the back of her shirt. Brittany's own hands resume their previous spot, starting to slide up the front of the Latina's shirt. She massages Santana's abs as their tongues continue to dance. Santana's hands continue their journey up and she lightly rakes her nails down the blonde's shoulder blades, drawing a light moan.
At the slight break in lip contact, Santana takes the initiative and moves her hands back up the blonde's sides, taking the girl's shirt with her. Brittany removes her hands from the Latina's midsection and helps remove the offending item. Once she is free of her shirt, she returns the favour, pulling Santana up slightly to make the task easier. Once both cotton garments are discarded, Brittany settles back down onto the Latina's body, letting their skin meet with only the thin fabric of their bras still separating them. She latches her lips onto the brunette's pulse point and starts alternating between soft bites and licks.
Santana groans as she starts to grow impatient. She reaches around the blonde's torso, quickly unclasping the barrier to her goal. She slides the straps down the blonde's shoulders, biting onto one of them lightly. Noting that the bra is now trapped between them, she quickly rolls the blonde onto her back so that she is on top. She sits up slightly, drawing a disappointed groan from the girl beneath her, whose hands are massaging her abs in anticipation. In apology, she reaches back and undoes the clasp on her own bra, letting her brown eyes meet blue ones. She slides her bra from her shoulders as the blonde's hands slide further up her torso. As soon as she tosses the fabric to the side, Brittany's hands are on her breasts, kneading the sensitive mounds. She moans lightly, but removes the blonde's hands temporarily so that she can finally slide the girl's own bra off and toss it into the increasing pile of discarded clothing beside the bed.
Santana settles down once more so that their now naked upper bodies are flush against one another. Both girls release a low moan as their breasts meet and Santana dives into Brittany's mouth once again, her hands starting to roam along the blonde's sides. Brittany slides her hands up Santana's back and then brings them around her torso, teasing the sides of the Latina's breasts with light grazes from her thumbs. Santana can feel the pool accumulating between her legs as she sinks further into the familiar feel of the blonde.
In a swift move, Brittany flips the pair so that she's on top once more. She can sense Santana's impatience and need building, and she feels the need to show her that they can have this and still be ok. She sits up slightly, but Santana's lips follow hers as the Latina props herself up on her elbows. Their lips only part when Brittany shuffles back slightly to grant her hands access to Santana's jeans. She looks directly into Santana's eyes, which are now remarkably dark, as she undoes the button and fly to the Latina's jeans. She bites her lip, knowing how much it turns the Latina on, and receives the desired response as Santana licks her lips in anticipation. Brittany starts to tug down on the brunette's jeans, sliding them down as far as she can without completely sliding off of the Latina. Santana kicks them off the rest of the way as the blonde starts back up her body. She tugs on one of Brittany's belt loops impatiently to bring the blonde back to her faster.
Their lips crash together again and Santana sucks Brittany's tongue into her mouth with need. The Latina's hands move around the blonde to cup her ass cheeks through her jeans. Brittany's hands rest on Santana's neck, but start a trail down. They slide along the Latina's collarbones and down to the sides of her breasts again―a notably sensitive spot for the brunette. The blonde sticks to light brushes of her hands against the mounds, before trailing down further. As she almost reaches her destination, she abandons the use of her left hand so that she can lean her weight on her arm. She breaks their kiss just long enough for the Latina to look up into her eyes. Santana just nods encouragingly and Brittany slides her hand slightly beneath the band of the brunette's underwear before reuniting their lips and tongues.
She slides her fingers gently along the elastic line before fully dipping beneath the threshold. When Santana feels one of Brittany's fingers lightly graze her clit, she bucks up against her hand, causing the blonde to smile against her mouth. Santana's hands find their way to Brittany's breasts as the blonde runs her hand along the Latina's slick folds, slowly working her way in. Santana moans with need, and Brittany obliges as she starts to circle two fingers around the Latina's entry point. The blonde delivers a light bite to Santana's lower lip before dipping her fingers in and immediately feeling the radiating warmth envelop her. They both moan at the sensation.
Brittany starts a slow, steady rhythm and Santana starts to almost pant, getting worked up much faster than she had anticipated. The blonde moves her mouth to the Latina's pulse point, resuming gentle bites and licks along the smooth, sensitive skin as she speeds up the rhythm of her hand. Santana is getting close and growing ever more impatient. She starts to buck against the blonde's hand with more force, and when Brittany lightly grazes her clit, she can't help the moan that escapes her, "Mmm, Rach."
As soon as the words leave her mouth, Santana's eyes snap open. Brittany's hand immediately stills, as does her mouth. She lifts her head to look at the Latina, the look in her eyes positively heartbreaking. Brittany rolls off of Santana and sits on the edge of the bed, facing the door.
"B, I'm sor―"
"Don't." The blonde says firmly as she reaches down to find her bra. She starts to put it back on.
Santana slides closer to the girl's retreating form. "B," she pleads as she reaches out a hand to touch the blonde's back, her heart breaking in tandem with the blonde's.
"I said fucking don't!" Brittany yells through tears as she stands up from the bed. It's the most force Santana has ever heard in the blonde's voice. She grabs her t-shirt from the floor and abruptly walks out of the room.
Santana falls back onto the bed in defeat. She cringes when she hears the front door slam shut, and again when she hears Brittany's car peel out of the driveway. She brings her hands up to her face, feeling like the worst person to ever exist. Every bit of sexual need that was in her just moments prior immediately left along with the blonde. I'm a fucking monster. She balls her fists and slams them down onto the bed in frustration. "I'm a fucking monster." She says aloud as she sits up on the bed, cross-legged, once again bringing her hands to her face.
She sits there like that for over 10 minutes, with her head cradled in her hands, getting about as close to tears as she's ever been. When she finally lifts her head again, she chances a glance at the clock, noticing that it's not even 8pm yet. She makes the decision to have a cold shower, but not before shooting a quick text to Quinn.
'I totally fucked up Q. So bad.' She hits send and heads to the shower, hoping that maybe she'll drown in the cold water.
15 minutes later she enters her room again, wrapped in a towel, feeling even shittier than she did before. She picks up her phone and sees that she has 7 texts from Quinn, each growing more concerned, wanting to know what happened. She doesn't respond, but starts to change.
Once dressed in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, she makes her way downstairs. As soon as she settles onto the couch, a series of doorbell rings start. At first she figures she'll just ignore them, but they don't stop. After about a minute, she groans and heads to the door.
She opens it to find another blonde on the other side. Her posture immediately slumps and her head drops. She can't even bear to look at another human being right now.
The look of concern on Quinn's face is purely genuine. "What the fuck, S? You send me a text like that and then you ignore me? Are you ok?"
Santana doesn't answer, she just steps back so that the blonde can come in. She does and Santana closes the door and heads back into the living room, assuming that Quinn will follow. She does.
Quinn pulls off her jacket and settles into her spot on the couch from the previous night. "S, you're seriously scaring me. What happened?" she pleads.
Santana leans back, trying to sink as far into the couch as she can―hoping that it will swallow her whole. Quinn slides over and pulls the Latina into a hug, realizing that maybe that's all she needs right now. Santana actually feels a tear drop down her face for the first time in years. She thinks about it and it's probably the first tear she's shed since her father left five years prior. Quinn slides a reassuring hand up and down the Latina's back as the other one lightly combs through her wet hair.
The blonde sits silently with the Latina for over 5 minutes before saying anything at all. "It'll be ok. Whatever it is, we'll work it out," she coos softly, hoping her voice will steady the girl.
Santana leans back from Quinn's hold to look into the blonde's eyes. Quinn's not sure she's ever seen the brunette's eyes so red or so full of emotion. Even having no concrete idea of what's going on, she can feel a tug at her heart, knowing that whatever it is, it's bad.
Quinn gets up from the couch and exits the room, leaving a confused Santana behind, but the Latina is simply too numb to follow. The blonde eventually returns with a glass of water in one hand and a bottle of vodka and a shot glass in the other. Santana raises a questioning eyebrow at the blonde.
"I assumed you'd want something to drink, I just didn't know which this situation calls for." Quinn explains, shooting her eyes between the two options with a hesitant smile.
Santana doesn't react beyond reaching her hands out towards Quinn's left one. She takes the bottle and the shot glass from the blonde's hand, putting the glass down on the coffee table and cracking the seal on the vodka. She pours a shot and slides it across the length of the table to Quinn, who settles into her seat once more. The blonde raises an eyebrow and glances back up in time to see Santana take a healthy swig directly from the bottle.
Quinn sighs. She lifts the shot glass up in Santana's direction in silent cheers before she shoots back the liquid. It burns down her throat and she coughs lightly as it works its way down.
Santana smirks at the blonde's slight grimace, but immediately feels guilty and steels her expression once more. She takes another swig from the bottle, swallowing back the grimace that threatens to cross her own face. She leans across the table to retrieve the shot glass, filling it and handing to the blonde once more.
Quinn hesitantly takes the glass and this time sips at the liquid instead of taking the entire shot.
Santana watches as the blonde does this. "Oh, man the fuck up Q," she chides, taking another swig from the bottle, unable to fight the grimace that crosses her features.
Quinn just stares at Santana and takes another sip from the small glass. "I can't spend every night here getting hammered, you know."
Santana rolls her eyes. "Suit yourself..." she mumbles before taking another healthy swig, this time shaking her head at the foul taste.
Quinn can see from Santana's posture that the alcohol is starting to relax her slightly. She places the shot glass down on the table before reaching a hand out to the rest on the Latina's knee, "You can talk to me, you know. I won't tell anyone."
Santana looks up to see the sincerity in the hazel eyes before her and sighs heavily before speaking. "I'm pretty sure I broke B."
The blonde's face and posture immediately grow defensive as she almost retracts her hand. "What do you mean you 'broke B'?" she asks with an edge in her voice that Santana had been expecting.
Santana takes another swig from the bottle and decides to stare at it rather than Quinn as she speaks. "Brit came over after practice. She tried stuff, and I said no... at first." She chances a quick glance up at the blonde, who is now looking at her with blatant disapproval. "It-it's just so easy with B. She said that it's ok that I don't love her back, that we can just have sex and it won't mean anything..." she trails off, knowing what's coming.
Quinn removes her hand from the Latina's knee and uses it to smack the side of her head, "You should fucking know better than that!" She grabs the half-shot from the table and takes it back, slamming the glass pronouncedly back onto the table as she glares at Santana with a silent rage.
Santana barely reacts to the slap and doesn't look up. She knew that Quinn would feel for Brittany. She starts to think that calling Puck may have been a better idea, but immediately shakes the thought from her head. There's no way that situation would've ended in anything other than sex, and that's about the furthest thing from what Santana needs right now.
A silence spreads over the living room until Quinn clears her throat. "Fucking hell," she mumbles, running a hand through her hair. She reaches out and grabs the bottle from Santana, taking a healthy swig herself―nearly gagging at the taste as she chokes it down. With her eyes squeezed shut in a grimace, she blindly hands the bottle back to the Latina.
Santana takes the bottle and takes a swig herself before sighing lightly. "How do I fix this?" she asks in what Quinn is sure is the smallest voice she's ever heard come from the girl.
Quinn opens her eyes and stares straight at Santana's, which read remarkably sad. She takes a deep breath and sighs. "Ok. Is that all that happened? You guys had sex and it got weird after?" the blonde asks with a raised eyebrow.
Santana looks down at the bottle, having forgotten that she hadn't even told the blonde the worst part yet.
At Santana's body language, the blonde sighs. "Ok, what are you not telling me, then?"
Santana pauses to hazard another quick look up at the blonde before proceeding. "We didn't actually have sex... or, well, we didn't finish at least..." the Latina trails off.
Quinn screws her face in confusion, the situation seeming to make less sense as time goes on. "Ok... so what happened?"
"I called her Rachel," Santana mumbles at a volume she knows Quinn can't hear, almost as if she's testing the words out in her mouth.
"What?" the blonde inquires with a raised eyebrow.
Santana chugs a couple mouthfuls from the bottle, coughing the burning liquid down. She puts the bottle down on the table and clears her throat as she mentally prepares herself for the backlash. "I called her Rachel." She says it firmly this time.
Quinn's eyes widen and she slaps Santana's shoulder, hard.
Santana roughly grabs the blonde's wrist before she can retract her hand completely, staring coolly into her eyes. "Ok, enough with the fucking hitting!" she yells as she throws Quinn's hand back towards her lap.
The two sit in silence for what seems like forever before Quinn grabs the bottle of vodka from the table, pouring another shot before sealing it. Santana looks at her questioningly. The blonde hands the shot glass to the Latina and takes the bottle with her as she stands up. "This isn't something you get to drown out," she says firmly as she turns to walk towards the kitchen.
To Santana's surprise, within a minute the blonde comes back and settles on the couch once more. Santana stares at her questioningly. "I assumed you'd leave," she says softly. Everyone leaves.
Quinn sighs at the tone of the Latina's voice. "Look Santana," she pauses, thinking over what she wants to say. "I'll stay here. I'll listen, hang out, whatever it is you need me to do. But there are two things I won't do." She waits for the Latina to look up at her. "One: I'm not gonna tell you what you did was ok, and I'm not gonna try to make you feel any better about it." Santana nods in understanding but Quinn doesn't continue, prompting the cheerleader to raise an eyebrow.
"Ok... what's the second thing?" she asks warily as she puts the still full shot glass down on the table, finding herself slightly taken aback by the sternness in the blonde's voice.
Quinn makes sure the Latina is looking at her again before she continues. "Two: I'm not sleeping with you."
Santana finds herself unable to stifle a laugh, and, though she feels guilty about it, she can't help but feel a little better already.
Random fyi, the towing thing totally happened to me in highschool. I still have no idea why the lots were full, but our school did a lot of special event stuff, so... lamesauce.
