Santana stopped Quinn outside the showering area. "You free tonight, Fabray?"

Quinn, coherent, confident and self-assured all afternoon, barking out non-stop orders on the pitch and completely in her element, was now instantaneously reduced into a dithering idiot. "Er, um... I, I -"

Santana rolled her eyes and pressed a ticket stub into the other woman's palm. "Just say yes."

"Y-yes." Quinn said, wide-eyed.

"Good." Santana said. "Come to the movies with me." She smirked at Quinn's dumbfounded expression, then waltzed off for a nice hot bath.

...

Santana and Quinn elbowed their way through the Friday night crowds. Santana was holding a large box of popcorn, salted, because she had a hunch that Quinn liked it that way. She was right and was immediately rewarded with a small, quick smile from the blonde woman as they settled into their seats.

"What are we watching again?" Quinn asked, reaching into the box for more popcorn.

"Occulus," Santana said, nonchalantly. Quinn's expression was priceless. Santana took one look at her and started cackling. "Quinn Fabray is a wimp!" She crowed triumphantly. "I knew you had a weakness somewhere in that stone heart of yours."

Quinn wanted to tell Santana that she was a pretty damn big weakness of hers, but stopped herself because that was cheesy as hell, and certainly inappropriate for the beginning of a horror movie. Instead, she stuck her nose in the air and said snootily, "I'm not scared of horror movies, I just find them brainless and distasteful."

Santana raised her eyebrows. "I see," she said, smirking slightly. "We'll see about that, won't we, Fabray?" She settled into her seat and grinned gleefully. When the light dimmed, she snuck her arm very quietly onto the shared arm-rest between their seats.

"I saw that," Quinn whispered, smiling slightly at the brunette's antics. She did not, however, take up the invitation.

The first truly scary scene took her completely by surprise. She gave a little shriek and buried her face into Santana's shoulder. When she realized what she was doing, she straightened, blushing. Her eyes were still tightly shut. "Is it over? Please say it's over."

Santana laughed. "Yes." Quinn lifted an eyelid cautiously and peeked at the screen. She screamed and punched Santana in the shoulder. "Asshole!" She abandoned any pretenses of appropriate behavior and spent the next few minutes curled up into Santana's chest, breathing heavily. A few minutes later: "Can I look now?"

Santana glanced down at her, sounding exasperated. "There is literally nothing going on now. She's eating an apple, for chrissakes. You can't be that wimpy."

Quinn sighed in relief and opened her eyes just in time to see the female lead character chomp down hard on a mouthful of glass shards. She had bitten into a light-bulb. Quinn nearly blanked out. "I am going to kill you, Santana Lopez."

"I'm sorry."

Quinn glared at her. "Are you?"

"Yes," Santana said, suppressing a smile.

Quinn's gaze softened. "Good." She reached out for Santana's hand and took it. Santana chortled. "Shut up," Quinn snapped, giving the hand a vicious squeeze.

"Ow!"

"Shh. We're in the middle of a movie." Quinn turned back to the movie screen.

Quinn clung on to Santana's hand throughout the movie and only released it when the lights had come on. Santana's fingers had gone rather numb from being squeezed so hard and so long. In fact, they were so numb that Santana was pretty sure that she'd only realize that some fingers had been dislocated when she got home two hours later. "Santana Lopez, you may now officially abandon all hopes of ever taking me out to another movie," Quinn said, when they'd exited the movie theatre.

Santana guffawed. "No matter. I've already gotten enough footage of your face today for future blackmailing purposes."

Quinn laughed and smacked her on the arm. They talked and laughed until they reached the carpark and made their way to their cars. Before Santana could make another joke, Quinn pressed her hand to her shoulder and blurted, "I'm sorry for running away." She took a deep breath. "I was scared. I'm still scared. I felt something I've never felt for any other woman before – and very few men, for that matter. And so instead of dealing with those – those feelings, I tried to escape from them. I know it was terrible. I'm really sorry."

Santana nodded slowly, her eyes gentle. "When I realized I was a lesbian in my junior year of high school, I tore people down because they were happy and I wasn't – because I thought they had something that I would never, ever have and I was jealous as fuck." Quinn slipped her hand into hers again, and this time it had nothing to do with horror movies or freaky haunted mirrors. "I was in love with this girl then," Santana continued, fully aware that she had only told this to one other person in her life. Brittany. Brittany, who was thousands of miles away now, lost to her, lost to her world. "Instead of acknowledging it, I had sex with as many boys as possible because they wanted me and she didn't – and it felt good to be...wanted, to be in control." She looked Quinn right in the eye. "I'm as scared as you are. So don't you dare try to solve things by running away again."

The tension between them now was almost electrifying. "I promised you a lot of things I couldn't deliver that night," Quinn said softly. "And I know you don't trust me any more, not after what I did. But I swear I won't chicken out this time. Will you give me a second chance?"

Santana rested her hands on Quinn's hips and pulled her in towards her. "Don't fuck it up this time," she whispered. She knew that she was getting herself into something that would almost certainly break her heart. But right then and there, with the silvery moonlight shining in Quinn's beautiful hazel eyes, with Quinn's body tucked in perfectly against hers, warm, firm, and so very, very right – she didn't care if it did.

They kissed slowly, softly, sweetly, as the dark night sky spun slowly around them, weaving a spell so thick and so strong that Santana found herself believing, stupidly, that this would be worth it no matter what happened next.