Break Each Others Hearts Again
A/N: It's party time people. I hope you like this one ;) I can't believe this has over 100 reviews already! Seriously, thank you all so effin' much! x
Quinn never liked getting drunk at parties. In fact she never really liked them to begin with. But Santana loved to party. Plus it was good for her image if she made an appearance. But the main reason she tagged along with Santana was to look after her. She knew how Santana could get when intoxicated.
Everyone seemed to be pretty sloshed. Quinn sat off to the side next to a swaying Brittany. Whom kept pushing into Quinn's side, as she sang to the song, practically mumbling every line, making up words to rhyme.
Quinn wanted to go home. She had church in the morning, and no way could she turn up with bags under her eyes. Her father would have a fit.
"Mira por donde vas. Maldito idiota!"
Quinn heard Santana howl at some poor guy who had accidentally stepped into her. Quinn knew immediately what that meant. Santana was drunk. As soon as the Latina began to yell in Spanish. She was definitely drunk. A sober Santana would have just hit him with a smart remark. And Quinn knows it takes a lot for Santana to get angry enough to use Spanish when she's sober.
She eases Brittany upright, and makes her way over to Santana. Grabbing her by the arm. "Q! Bout time you came for a dance." Santana smirks drunkenly. Quinn's eyes widen, afraid that Santana may say something she shouldn't.
"Or we could go home? Don't you think you've had enough?"
Santana frowns, "There's no such thing." she slurs.
"Come on Santana. I have church tomorrow. And all my stuffs at your house." Quinn pleads. Santana gives in, under one condition. She leans in, the smell of alcohol reeks all over Quinn.
"Can we watch the Wizard of Oz?" Santana whispers, stumbling a little.
Quinn laughs, holding her up. "Sure we can."
.
.
Santana face plants her bed, much to Quinn's amusement. "And how are you going to watch a movie with your face down?" Quinn questions.
"Just put it on." Santana mumbles into the bed. Quinn rolls her eyes, pressing play on the DVD player, knowing that the disc is already in there. She pulls off her cardigan, unzipping her dress. She opens Santana's drawer, pulling out one of her over sized shirts.
She looks down at her friend, sighing. She attempts to take off Santana's boots. "A little help?" She tells Santana. Santana does her best to co-operate. Eventually the boots are off, and Quinn rolls Santana over. "Take off your jacket." She tells her.
Santana does as she's told, growling as she squeezes her arm out. Quinn helps her with the rest, discarding Santana's jeans to the side. She pulls back the covers, gesturing Santana to get in. Quinn jumps in on the other side, aimlessly watching the film.
She feels Santana shiver next to her. Instinctively, she drapes her arm over, scooting closer to give Santana some of her body warmth. She smiles to herself when Santana relaxes.
.
Santana wakes in the middle of the night, to skin contact on her cheek. The alcohol in her making her more brave than usual. She doesn't know why she does it. Because she's not gay. But she pushes her lips out gently, and they brush against Quinn's under the blankets. She leaves them lingering there, until Quinn's lips push back. She closes her eyes, pushing back. They begin to fight with each others lips. Santana goes the extra mile, seeking further access.
She can't believe it. Because one. She's still a little drunk. Two, Quinn's a girl. A good catholic girl. Her best friend. And three. She's not gay.
But it felt so right. And Santana didn't want to stop. Ever.
.
.
Santana pulls her attire together. A skimpy military one piece. With the bottoms that cut just below her ass. She props up her cleavage and clips the black belt around her waist. She pulls ups her thigh gun holsters, sliding in the toy pistol she bought. She's straightened her dark locks, and adds a pair of aviators to top it off.
Blaine told her to be tasteful.
She checks herself over, shrugging, "Tasteful enough." She agrees, pulling on her combat boots, and makes her way out.
She's one of the first to arrive at the club Blaine's hired out.
Blaine's dressed as some sort of Prince, which doesn't surprise Santana at all. He takes one look of the sex that is Santana and shakes his head. She grins back as he nudges Kurt. Kurt turns, eyes widening, "Oh my." He mouths at the sight. Blaine's father turns to see, almost spilling his drink.
"Evening all." Santana greets with a bounce in her step. Loving the effect of her outfit.
"Santana, this is Blaine's father, David." Kurt gives her a warning look.
"Pleased to meet you." She extends a hand, pulling out her polite voice.
The man takes her hand, "Likewise." He fails at hiding the blush on his face.
"So what are you?" Santana asks Kurt, who is dressed in a black tailed tux, with half a white faced mask.
Kurt pouts towards Blaine. "I knew she wouldn't know. The Phantom. Duh."
Santana laughs, "Right..."
"Hey guys." Blaine sister Blair interrupts, dressed in a toga. Santana approves.
"Hey." They all reply in unison.
"Hi Santana." Blair smiles, "You look...wow. Is that legal?" Blair laughs nervously, and Kurt's eyebrows shoot up.
"Thank you. And probably not." She laughs along. Kurt frowns at the interaction. But Blaine is on it quick.
"So, who needs a drink?" He interjects.
"Yes please." Santana smiles, continuing a conversation with Blair. Sure Blair's hot. And with enough sexual frustration, Santana thinks that she's worth a go. But she'd never push for anything. She's Blaine's sister after all.
.
.
"This is not good." Kurt whispers to Blaine at the bar.
"What are you talking about?" Blaine follows his fiances line of vision. "You worry too much." He rolls his eyes.
"No I do not. Look at her. She's practically sex on legs. And I know for a fact that your sister is interested. Look at that smile. Santana's got her eating out of the palm of her hand." Kurt's voice raises a pitch higher in Blaine's ear.
"Santana's a big girl Hon." He hands Kurt his drink.
"But what about Quinn?" Kurt challenges.
"Well is there anything going on between them?" Blaine replies, making their way back.
"I don't know. They've been on dates. What if she screws it up, Blaine!" Kurt hisses, but Blaine is already back to the girls, and ditching the conversation all together.
"So is Quinn coming tonight?" Kurt decides it's necessary to bring it up. Especially in front of Blair. Sure, he wanted this pre-Quinn. But not now. Not anymore.
"She said she was coming." Santana replies. Kurt decides to leave questions for later.
.
. Two hours pass, and Quinn still hasn't shown up yet. Santana finds herself seated at the bar, checking her phone. Zero messages. She hates that she cares. Does she have a reason to even care?
She bites on her lip nervously, composing a message. Are you still coming? - S
She hits the send button, sighing to herself. She orders another drink. "What are you doing over here? You should be dancing!" Blair's voice yells over the music into Santana's ear.
Santana smiles. She knows she's well on her way to being drunk. In fact, she's probably all ready there. She takes the extended hand Blair offers, and follows the girl to the dance floor.
The club is packed by now, and the dance floor starts to get a little messy. Santana starts to feel the music. She finds her rhythm, and her blood is starting to run hot. Danity Kanes Strip Tease comes over the speakers, and Santana get's into her groove.
Before she knows it, Blair's backed up into her crotch, grinding onto her. And in the state she's in, Santana isn't capable of resisting. She slides her hands down Blair's sides, grinding harder. The dance floors so messy, that hardly anyone notices.
It isn't until Santana's stumbling behind Blair, clutching her hand, being dragged towards the bathroom, that Kurt interjects. He knows that look on Santana's face.
"What are you doing?" He grabs her arm, hissing at the girl.
"What does it look like?" Santana slurs, winking at Blair as she disappears through the door.
"What about Quinn?" He challenges.
Santana rolls her eyes, "She's not here, is she? Now if you'll excuse me." She grins wickedly, gliding through the door.
Kurt stands completely gobsmacked. "This cannot be good."
"What can't be good?" Blaine circles his arms around his lover, pressing a kiss to his neck.
"Your sister and Santana just took off into the bathroom. That's what." Kurt whines.
"Classy." Blaine chuckles against Kurt's skin. Kurt spins, glaring. "This isn't funny."
"Okay, okay. Look, there's nothing we can do now. Because I really don't want to walk in on whatever they're doing and try to pull them apart. They're big girls. So, we'll just go and grab another drink. When they come out, I'll take Blair, you take Santana, deal?" Blaine tugs a hesitant Kurt's hand, and drags him towards the bar.
.
.
Twenty minutes past by, and Kurt has his eyes fixed on the bathroom door.
"Hey guys." Kurt's eyes widen at the sound of Quinn's voice. He turns, eyes widening even more at her costume. Quinn looks down, blushing. "I couldn't find anything else." She justifies her costume. Her old Cheerio's outfit, with a little readjusting. A much shorter skirt, and the bottom half of her top missing. Her hair is curled up into the trademark ponytail, but instead of the white sneakers, she's paired it with a pair of white boot heels. "Sorry I'm late. Last minute adjustments." She laughs.
Blaine waits for Kurt to say something, but his eyes are still wide with shock. Quinn frowns, looking at Blaine for an answer. He quickly nudges his fiance. "Sorry. You just...wow."
Quinn laughs, "Yeah, I'm surprised I still fit this thing."
"You look amazing." Blaine interjects with a compliment.
"Thank you. So do you two. Let me guess, The Phantom?"
Kurt smiles brightly, "Thank you. Someone who knows who I am. Santana had no clue." He rolls his eyes.
Quinn laughs along with him, "Speaking of, I text her, but she hasn't replied. Is she still here?" Quinn looks around. Kurt goes into panic mode, and Blaine tries his best to subtly calm him. It's not until, Kurt turns around, watching as a flustered Blair exits the bathroom door, soon followed by Santana, readjusting her belt. He winces at the sight, hoping that Quinn hasn't seen, or assumed the obvious.
Santana makes her way towards the bar, stopping in her tracks when her eyes fall on the Quinn that she hasn't seen for eight years. Guilt takes over her immediately. And she hates it."Shit." she curses under her breath, making her way up to the three of them.
"Wow." Is all she can manage at the sight of Quinn.
"I could say the same for you." Quinn smiles. Kurt shares a confused look with Blaine. Surely she's not that naive.
"You still fit into that?" Santana questions.
"What are you trying to say?" Quinn retorts cheekily.
"No you look...amazing." Santana breathes.
Kurt quickly takes her arm, smiling an, "Excuse us."
He drags Santana outside. "What are you doing?" She shrieks, prying him off.
"What am I doing? What the hell are you doing?" Kurt hisses at her.
Santana rolls her eyes, "Remember that time you said you'd stay out of it?"
"This is dangerous." He warns her.
"Oh please. It's not like we're together." She rolls her eyes, until the look on Kurt's face makes her realize her words. And just how much of a hypocrite she sounds like.
"Everything okay?" Quinn interrupts at the door, snatching them both from their argument.
"Yeah. You need a drink. I'll get you one." Santana storms away from Kurt, with Quinn in tow, heading towards the bar.
Blaine sends Kurt a questioning look, but Kurt only rolls his eyes, dragging Blaine off towards the dance floor.
.
.
"So you're a sergeant?" Quinn laughs.
"I always wondered what I'd look like in an army uniform?" Santana grins, sipping on her drink.
"From where I'm standing, you look amazing." Quinn eyes up Santana's form. Feeling her thighs clench at the sight of the other woman. Seeing so much skin sends her hormones into a frenzy. Definitely agreeing with herself that Santana's body has only improved with time.
"You too. Seriously, I can't believe you still fit that!" Santana rakes her eyes over Quinn's body, with hungry eyes. Quinn smiles at how obvious Santana is eye fucking her. She's missed drunk Santana.
"I had nothing else to wear. And I didn't want to be rude, and not show." She winks.
"Come on. Let's dance." Santana takes Quinn's hand, dragging her to the dance floor. Quinn can't help but be surprised at how easy Santana is tonight. It feels like old times, and Quinn is more than happy to relish in it.
.
.
As the night plays on, the dance floor becomes even messier. Quinn knows Santana's had her fair share of alcohol. And the old Quinn would have told her to slow down. But they're adults now, and Quinn doesn't have that hold on Santana anymore. She's not her Santana.
They're dancing on the dance floor together. Santana's lips cracked into her drunken smile, and Quinn watches her with amusement. Every now and then Quinn catches Santana's eyes raking over her body. She laughs at the girls blatant stare, but decides that Santana's just drunk. She doesn't want to take advantage of it. So she enjoys the side of Santana that she hasn't seen in years.
Kurt's perched himself on Blaine's knee, devouring his fiances mouth. Santana nudges Quinn, laughing at the two men. Quinn makes a shocked expression, yelling over the music, "They're cute."
Santana rolls her eyes, "They're disturbing!"
"Disturbingly cute." Quinn smirks. Santana shakes her head. "Love!" she shouts.
"There's nothing wrong with love." Quinn yells over the music, and Santana replies with a drunken smile. Closing her eyes, she spins around to the music.
The DJ calls for the last song. Santana lets out a groan, cursing him in Spanish over the music.
Definitely drunk. Quinn thinks to herself, smiling ridiculously at Santana.
I know you want me
You know I want ya
I know you want me
You know I want ya
Quinn rolls her eyes at the song, waiting for the words she knows she's going to hear. Some things never change.
"This is my jam!" Santana yells, fist pumping in the air. She looks at Quinn, lazy smile attached to her lips. She begins to sway her hips the way Quinn remembers. The dark, seductive look in Santana's eyes snatches Quinn's breath. Her legs go weak at the pure sex that is Santana's movements. She can't pull her eyes away. Raking them over Santana's exposed thighs.
She bites on her bottom lip, eyes darkening. Santana inches closer, grabbing Quinn's hand, turning herself into Quinn's body. They begin to sway together. And even though Quinn knows that Santana is drunk. She's unable to pull herself away from the girl. It's physically impossible.
.
"Do I throw the best fucking parties or what?" Santana slurs, with her arm draped over Quinn's shoulder. Quinn laughs, trying her best to keep the Latina upright.
"You" Kurt points to her, "Have a gift." He slurs out through vodka tainted breath.
"I know right!" Santana's voice reaches higher. Slapping her thigh in agreement.
"Come on Sir-drinks-alot. Let's get you home. You guys okay?" Blaine does his best to hold up his fiance.
"We're fine." Santana slurs out.
Quinn nods, "I'll walk her home."
"Yeah." Santana throws her hand down again, agreeing.
"Okay, night girls." Blaine smiles, helping Kurt into their cab.
"Night." The pair of them reply in unison. "Use protection!" Santana shouts, giggling to herself.
.
Quinn keeps her arm around Santana's waist, the entire walk back to Santana's apartment.
"Whoa. Deja vu." Santana breathes as they reach the stairs.
"You always did drink too much." Quinn laughs, tightening her grip on Santana's waist.
"Hey! I handle it quite well, thank you." Santana grins stupidly.
"Now you do." Quinn laughs as Santana silently counts the numbers on the doors, stopping when they reach her apartment. She stops, bouncing on her feet. She can barely keep her head up as she rummages through her purse, searching for her keys. Throwing them in the air with an achieved smile on her face once she finds them. "Aha!"
Quinn stifles a laugh at the drunk Santana.
"Thank you." Santana whispers, resting against the door.
"It's okay." Quinn replies, lips twitching at the corners.
They rest in silence, until Santana, out of nowhere begins to lean in towards the blonde. Quinn knows she should dodge the bullet. But those eyes. And those lips. And they way Santana's eyes are fixed on her own lips catches her. She's trapped. And there's no way of fighting this.
Santana's lips reach hers. She tastes of alcohol, and it burns Quinn's cherry tasting lips. Her veins run with fresh, excited blood. Her thighs clench at the touch. She wants this too much to pull away. So she kisses back. Closing her eyes, until Santana breaks the kiss, catching her breath.
"Shit. I'm sorry." She whispers.
Quinn opens her eyes, finding Santana in a nervous state.
"For what?" She's afraid that Santana already regrets it.
"Nothing." Santana brushes it off, shoving her keys in the lock. She stops before turning it, looking at Quinn. "Do you want to come in?"
Yes. But she only has a sitter until two. And she has to get back to Beth. Beth is her main priority. "I should get home to Beth. And you need sleep." Quinn smiles.
Santana holds herself up with the door handle. "Okay. Tell her I said hi."
Quinn nods, "I will. I'm really glad I came tonight." She presses her lips together.
"Same." Quinn forgets that Santana is still drunk, until Santana's blatant eye fucking begins again.
Quinn shakes her head laughing, "Bed. Now!" She orders, pecking Santana on the cheek.
"Yes ma'am." Santana cocks her head cheekily.
"Goodnight Santana." Quinn turns, strutting back down the stairs.
"Night Q." Santana stares at Quinn's ass, until the blonde is out of sight. A stupid drunk smile across her face. She turns the handle, stumbling into her apartment. Using the walls to find her way to her room. She face plants the bed, mumbling a "Fuck me," before entering the unconscious world.
