A/N: I know this took long and I'm sorry. I had a hard time writing lately. But here it is nonetheless, I just want to clarify one thing: The Spencer in this story is not Spencer Hastings from PLL. Although, she is the inspiration behind the character. I just had a small idea that Spencer (Hastings) and Quinn will have an interesting dynamic. I'm a huge fan of PLL, too, so I guess it's okay if you picture Spencer Hastings here.
And again, thank you. I hope you're still there, reading this. Two warnings: (1) Long chapter, and (2) I was smiling by the time I finished writing this. I might have revised and improved this around 5 times.
Enjoy! xo
The Santana Lopez Rage has three levels.
The first is the I-want-you-dead level, the level which is reserved for mostly everybody, with Rachel Berry on top of the list. Mostly, everyone that breathes belongs in this level—especially those who walk slow in front of her at any given time of day. She just generally hates people, she thinks they're annoying. Oh, also in this category are the bow ties of Blaine Anderson. She has made it her life's mission to burn all of them someday and watch Blaine suffer in pain.
What? Those were really annoying ties to go with the annoying outfit, hair, and personality.
And then there's the I'm planning-your-murder-in-my-head level, the level reserved for Sam Evans and Artie Abrams back in their days of Brittany-stealing. Well, her stupid Vogue intern Margaux is in this level, too because she's stupid all the time. She's always on her phone, texting her stupid boyfriend and if there's anything Santana hates more than people, it's stupid people. And if there's anything she hates more than stupid people, it's stupid people texting each other—because they talk about stupid things.
Last is the Just Kill Yourself or I Actually Will level. It is reserved for Sunshine Corazon and Sebastian Smythe; and the people who threaten to take everything from her. She can forgive stupid people—like Sam and Artie although they did steal something from her once or twice—but she cannot forgive people who stand in her way, not allowing her to get what she wants.
She's trying to sort where Spencer—Spencer Campbell, because Rachel and Kurt are friends with her on Facebook—belongs in those three levels but she thinks it's better if she just make up a whole new level dedicated to her.
"I need to know something," Spencer opens up as she stands in the middle of the room.
Santana stands firmly in place, with her mind working at a rapid place. She thinks about all the Quinn-related questions Spencer might ask her. At the back of Santana's mind, she thinks that Spencer came here out of the pure goodness of her heart. She assumes, based on the way Rachel and Kurt talked about her, that Spencer really is a nice person.
She can't judge Spencer; she doesn't know where to get all the judgment because they met only once and barely exchanged words. But at the pit of her stomach, Santana knows there's something about Spencer that annoys her. She can't put her finger on it but she's sure there's a lot more to Spencer than being Quinn's go-to person.
"Ask me anything," Santana says.
"I like Quinn," Spencer admits, looking straight into Santana's eyes, trying to elicit some sort of a reaction.
It still somehow takes Santana aback. The information is not new to her but the way Spencer said it, the bluntness of her delivery makes Santana re-evaluate her impression on Spencer. With that tone, she can bite. There's no way Spencer is just a goodie-goodie.
"That's not really a question," Santana says, playing it cool.
"I just needed to say that because I think you're being unfair."
What?
"What are you talking about?"
"I know you like her."
Santana raises an eyebrow.
There it is—the shift in persona she's been expecting off of Spencer. From being the sweet, good girl she was when they first met, Spencer is now in full defense, stiff and stoic. She looks ready for battle. There's a hint of hesitation in her facial expression but something about the way she speaks tells Santana she knows exactly what she's doing.
She waits for Spencer to continue.
"I saw the way you were looking at her the night we met and I didn't need to look twice to know what that look means."
They stare at each other for a moment. Spencer is challenging her and weirdly enough, Santana feels challenged; like she has something to lose.
"Whatever that look means, it's none of your business."
"It kind of is."
Santana huffs impatiently, "What is wrong with you?"
"What is wrong with you?" Spencer spites back, with emphasis on the you. "You can't just come around all of a sudden and make Quinn choose."
"Oh, so this is about Quinn ditching you," Santana says with a sarcastic chuckle. "It's not my fault she chose to spend the holidays with her best friend."
Spencer rolls her eyes, with an amused smile on her face, "Wow. How long are you gonna use the best friend card, Santana?"
Unbelievable.
Santana cannot start to believe Spencer's audacity to come here and confront her. She's been through a lot of confrontations before, all of which she won by default or the Lima Heights Adjacent way, but she won them all. Spencer, however, is a different kind of nemesis.
"You speak like you know a lot about me."
"She talks a lot about you," Spencer says, her voice lower than it was moments ago.
It was the admission she didn't see coming.
Spencer continues, "There are days when she won't stop telling me about you."
Santana only shrugs, not knowing how to react.
"Look, I know this is intrusive. But I just want you to know that I care for Quinn. I don't wanna see her get hurt."
"What are you talking about?" Santana asks, now officially confused and impatient.
This is not how she expected this conversation to go.
"If you're planning to fight for her, really fight for her. Don't do this—this whole stopping her at the last minute thing, when she thinks she's finally made a decision to be happy."
Then it hits her.
When Spencer first came in, Santana thought she came here to claim what's hers. But now, Santana realizes that Spencer came in here to fight for what's not and never will be.
They stare at each other again.
Santana is still confused.
Who the hell comes to her enemy to ask her to fight back?
"I'm not stupid. I listen to the way she talks about you and I can't help but wonder if she ever talks about me that way," Spencer says, her voice never did waver at once but Santana sees a slight pained expression in her face.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Santana lies.
Spencer smirks disbelievingly. She shakes her head as she rolls her eyes, not believing what she sees, "I don't know what's up with you because trust me I don't want to but if you're gonna be there for Quinn, don't half-ass it."
"You have the guts."
Spencer nods with a huff, "Yeah, for once, I have something you don't."
Woah.
"Wow, Spencer," Santana says. She perks up because this girl is something else. "Where are you going with this?"
Spencer steps closer to Santana and looks straight to her eyes, "Stop dragging Quinn around like this, hanging on to every word you'll say, making her believe you're getting there when you're really not. It's unfair because she deserves to be happy, too."
She now officially hates Spencer—in a special brand of hate.
She hates her because she thinks she's brave.
"I'm ready for Quinn and she deserves someone like that. But for some reason, she's waiting; maybe for a silver lining or a miracle. But if you're not planning to catch her, stop making her fall."
And now, she also officially understands Spencer. She doesn't know how Spencer knows or how she managed to put the pieces together but she understands her now.
She keeps her defences up anyway, "Don't you think this is a little low, asking me to let her go just so you'd win?"
Spencer smirks, in that really annoying way, "I'm asking you to fight for her and not make her wait around for you. Have you been listening to me?"
"No, you bore me."
Spencer relaxes somehow, like she finally got the reaction she expected from Santana; like she finally sees the Santana she expected to see when she came in here.
"There you are, the Santana Lopez Quinn's talking about—the brave Santana who always fought for what she wants."
"No, you really just bore me."
Spencer sneers and nods, not believing Santana one bit.
"What's your angle?" Santana asks, stepping closer to Spencer.
Spencer stands glued to her spot, not backing down a bit, "My angle is I want Quinn to be happy and despite my personal desire to be the reason for that, I'm not blind. You look at Quinn like she means everything to you and I'm not selfish to keep Quinn from having the opportunity to have someone like that in her life."
What is wrong with this girl? No one is this selfless.
"What's wrong with you, really?"
"I asked myself the same question twice on the way here."
"This is such a masochist thing to do."
"I'm surprised you even know that word."
Sassy.
"So, what? You just want me to put up a decent fight?"
"Yes because Quinn deserves that from you."
"I hate you," Santana manages.
I'm so lame.
"The feeling is mutual, believe me."
With that, Santana decides to add another level to the Santana Lopez Rage meter. She puts Spencer Campbell in between the second and third level and she calls it the Annoying Spencer Cambell level wherein she really hates someone but she respects them anyway.
"You do realize you're digging yourself a grave here, right?"
Spencer smirks, "At least I get to say I didn't run away."
"I'm not running away."
Spencer chuckles, "I didn't say you were. That's just you knowing better."
This girl is something else, Santana decides. Somehow, she sees what Rachel and Kurt were talking about.
Santana only shakes her head.
"We have one thing in common, Santana."
"I doubt it."
"We both care for Quinn."
Well, duh.
"If you put it that way, sure."
"I'm not backing down, just so you know."
Somehow, she admires Spencer. She knows it takes a lot to come here and ask Santana to fight this battle against her. That's valiant. And it makes her respect Spencer.
But she will never say that out loud.
"See you around," Spencer says when Santana won't respond. "You know, when you're not hiding away."
"Sorry, I didn't hear you. I snoozed the moment opened your mouth."
Spencer smirks again, knowing well that Santana has accepted her challenge. Of course, she accepts the challenge because Lima Heights Adjacent taught her that.
Santana leers back mostly out of respect because even though she will never admit it to another living soul, Spencer's decision to come here to ask Santana to fight for Quinn is bold. Apart of her thanks Spencer too, because for all of the annoying things about her, she's on Quinn's team which means she and Spencer are—in some ways—allies.
Spencer walks toward the door and then turns to Santana for the last time, "For the record, I'm not a masochist."
"Right, you're a loser."
God, that's all I came up with?
"I'm hopeful—that maybe at some point in the future, she'd actually choose me."
Spencer exits after that.
You have no idea how much I want to hate her and burn her.
If her life is a book, Santana's sure she has the weirdest villain scenario ever.
LATER THAT DAY
Santana knows they should just have taken the train. The bus takes 30 more minutes to get to Times Square but Quinn insisted on taking the bus since they're not really in a rush. And Quinn admits on hating the train because of all the noisy people.
A couple of minutes down the bus ride—with Quinn on the window seat and Santana beside her—Quinn starts laughing uncontrollably.
Santana has just shown her the Yeast-I-Stat commercial.
"Oh my God," Quinn manages in between laughs. She's tearing up. "What on Earth is this?"
Santana laughs, too, and lightly punches Quinn on the arm, "Stop mocking me! That commercial aired nationally."
"How come I never heard of this?" Quinn asks, still laughing and still tearing up. She wipes a stray tear at the corner of her eye as she hits the replay button on Santana's phone.
Let's face it. There are good kinds of yeast and bad kinds of yeast.
Quinn bursts laughing.
"Okay, now you're just making fun of me," Santana says laughingly. She tries to get her phone back but Quinn blocks her with her arm.
"Wait! Stop! I'm watching this again," Quinn says, turning her back to Santana so that she can watch the video properly.
She starts laughing again.
The annoying song of the Yeast-I-Stat commercial starts playing and Quinn just laughs all over again.
"Oh my God."
Santana laughs as she shakes her head. "You're only seeing this now?"
"I don't watch TV," Quinn says still laughing a bit as she hands Santana her phone.
Santana snatches her phone back, "I posted this video on Facebook."
"I don't use Facebook that much," Quinn says now calming down from all the laughing.
Santana rolls her eyes, "Whatever."
"Well, at least you get to say you got a commercial."
"HA. HA. Very funny."
"What?" Quinn asks with a shrug. Quinn suppresses another laugh.
Santana groans, "Get over it."
Quinn giggles some more and for some reason, it warms Santana. It's one of the few times she's heard Quinn laugh freely. And if a Yeast-I-Stat commercial does that to Quinn, she will not hesitate to make another one.
What has become of me?
"What did your mom say about this commercial?"
Santana shakes her head as she laughs gently, "She loved it. And my Dad? Do you know what my Dad did?"
Quinn laughs again. They both know exactly how proud Santana's father gets when Santana achieves something.
After they won Nationals, her dad played the performance video on loop via the large TV by the lounge of his clinic. It was there—on repeat—for a month.
"What did your dad do?"
"Q, he showed the video to everyone in the hospital. Everyone."
Quinn laughs again, embarrassed for Santana—Martin Lopez could really get invested about his daughter's achievements.
Santana only rolls her eyes.
"I wonder if Coach Sylvester has seen this."
"She has and she called me to say how ashamed she is."
Quinn rolls her eyes, "Don't mind her. She's so self-righteous."
"Well, this isn't my best work—"
"It's not but it's your work nonetheless," Quinn utters effortlessly, as if it didn't make Santana's heart beat faster.
Here Quinn is, indirectly saying she's proud of Santana for being the face of Yeast-I-Stat.
Quinn looks out the window and gazes at the roadside view. The sun is setting and it gives the sky a different color.
Santana stares at Quinn and takes her in. Again, Quinn is stunning. She's effortlessly graceful even if she's just sitting there, watching as the sun sets before them.
She contemplates.
Everything has changed now. She knows that stopping Quinn from going to Harrisburg with Spencer and admitting that Rachel's pregnancy is a lie change everything between them. There's now an unspoken thing that's going on; something that they'll talk about when—according to Quinn—Santana is ready.
Santana leans back on her seat to get into a more comfortable position and then, without a word, takes Quinn's hand in hers. She doesn't know if this unspoken thing allows her to do this but she takes her chances.
Quinn's hand can't just lay there untaken.
She just had to hold her hand.
Quinn tenses for a fraction of second and Santana almost thought she was going to take her hand back. But Quinn only allows Santana to hold her hand.
Santana's heart is beating fast.
Holy shit. I'm holding her hand.
They stare at the sunset silently for a couple more minutes and when it's finally dark, Quinn shifts on her seat and scoots closer to her. If it's possible, Santana's heart beats faster.
I am going to die early.
Then, Quinn breaks the silence with a chuckle.
Santana looks at Quinn questioningly.
Quinn doesn't return Santana's look and instead closes her eyes as she lays her head back on the headrest. She smiles, "Are you nervous?"
Santana's eyes widen comically, "No."
Uhm…
"Right," Quinn says with a smile.
"I am not nervous."
"Okay," Quinn nods, obviously unconvinced.
Truthfully, Santana is nervous.
Shut up.
Quinn makes her nervous. She's a stuttering, helpless, and hopeless boy with a crush when she's around Quinn. If this was happening to somebody else, she would heartlessly laugh at them. But it is happening to her.
Other people made her nervous—Brittany, Dani—but none of them ever drove her crazy.
And that's it.
Quinn drives her crazy.
She doesn't understand what crazy means but if you ask her what she feels when Quinn is around, she will summarize it in one word: crazy.
Insane.
"Do I make you nervous?"
Yes.
"No," Santana lies now looking at their joined hands.
Quinn's eyes are still closed but she's smiling, teasing Santana because she knows the truth.
Santana adjusts on her seat, careful not let their hands lose contact. Once she has adjusted to a more comfortable position, Quinn starts shifting to a position where she can rest her head on Santana's shoulder.
Santana doesn't tense. She lets go of Quinn's hand and puts it around Quinn's shoulder. She feels Quinn instantly relax—and smile.
It makes Santana smile too because, God, she can do this forever.
I can live with this.
"Can I ask you something?" Quinn asks.
"Yeah."
They're speaking silently, careful not to disturb other passengers. Santana shoots a quick prayer of thanks for booked bus trips—it saves them from a lot of chance passengers who stand there awkwardly by the aisle as you cuddle with your bestfriend.
HA. HA. Right.
"What was Dani like?"
Now, she tenses.
Dani.
They never talked about Dani.
Everybody knew about Dani—the girl who took Santana's heart away in just one glance. Some called it love at first sight. Some cynics called it a phase. Rachel called it true love. But along with Kurt, Santana always knew it wasn't going to last.
Dani loved her—way too much, if she's going to be honest. And she, somehow, loved her, too. Dani was smart and spontaneous. She could engage Santana into a sudden Beatles duet and instantly find their voices matching beautifully. Dani gave her everything she had wanted: less drama and more assurance.
Dani never failed to be there for her.
There was a spark.
But it never lit up a fire.
At the back of Santana's mind, something was missing. And maybe it's true what they say about the heart: it wants what it wants, and perhaps rejects what it doesn't.
Dani knew it, too. That's why she saved both of them from hitting a dead end. She left to pursue her California rockstar dream and though it hurt, Santana couldn't blame her.
Their relationship was okay.
And maybe, that's the reason it didn't work.
But Dani did her one thing—for a while, she forgot about Quinn. Okay, that's not true. Quinn has always been at the back of her mind but Dani provided a good distraction. At least, Dani was into her.
She and Quinn never talked about her. Dani was yet another one of their unspoken truths. Quinn never asked about Dani; and Santana didn't feel the need to bring her up. She and Quinn existed in a different bubble; a bubble outside of the matters of their hearts. Santana knows she'll never know why Quinn never asked about Dani but she has an idea now.
Santana sighs as she relaxes again. This is Quinn. Quinn is safe to open up to so she does, "Dani was okay."
Well, I could have come up with something better than that.
"Okay?"
"She was sweet."
Quinn doesn't say anything so Santana continues, "We liked the same kind of music."
Okay, Santana. That's better.
"Hmm," Quinn hums, nodding gently.
"We liked the same TV shows and we both hated movies."
"Did Rachel and Kurt like her?"
"Yeah, I think. Rachel was pretty much into the Dani-Santana train."
Quinn is silent after that.
Santana could tell there's something on her mind.
"Did you love her?"
Now, this is a question Santana doesn't know how to answer.
She did love Dani—maybe not as much as she was supposed to but she loved her.
That makes a good sentence.
"Yes," Santana says, gazing outside the window, as she traces random patterns on Quinn's shoulder. She continues, "Maybe not as much as I was supposed to but yes."
Quinn nods.
And doesn't say anything after that.
BACK AT THE APARTMENT
Santana is on the phone with Rachel because Quinn volunteered to prepare dinner.
"Wow, Spencer is a bitch."
"Not really," she says, as she walks around slightly cleaning up the mess in her room. "She was kind of abrasive but she's nothing I've never seen before. I think I get what you said about her and Quinn being alike. They are alike."
"See? I was right?"
"I hate to admit that but yes, Berry, you are right."
"So, she's officially gone?"
"Nope. I think the battle has just begun."
"That scares me a little bit."
"Why?"
"Spencer seems to be the person who always gets what she wants."
"I am that person, too, so I guess something's got to give."
The silence on the other line tells Santana that Rachel is smiling. She knows the midget too well now.
"Why are you smiling, Berry?"
"Santana, are you here?" Rachel asks with serious anxiousness in her voice. "How did you know I was smiling?"
Santana chuckles, "Just a hunch. So, you were smiling?"
"Yes, I was because this is so weird."
"What is?"
"You and Quinn. Finally—I mean—"
"Let's not go there."
"Oh, we will go there."
"Well, I'll hang up on you and not talk to you again."
"You live in my apartment, Santana."
"I pay rent, excuse me. And I'll pay extra fee if you'll let me pretend you don't exist."
Rachel laughs, "I don't think you can handle a life without me."
"Wow, Berry!" Santana says in disbelief because Rachel Berry sometimes.
Rachel giggles, "So, how are you after being emotionally vulnerable for like, one second?"
"How can you tease me and sound concerned at the same time?"
"Because I am me. Just answer the question."
Santana picks up and the last of her scattered dirty laundry and puts it in the laundry basket. She doesn't usually clear up her room even if Satan came to collect but Quinn would yell at her if she sees dirty laundry inside the room—even if it isn't her room.
So, maybe, it is safe to assume that Santana is somewhat scared of Quinn.
Or is there another word for that?
"I'm fine, Berry."
"I'm fine? That's all I get?"
"There's really nothing to see here except that she knows the truth—"
"—and we will talk about that later—oh my God!"
Santana laughs at Rachel's panic-y and annoying voice, "Calm your tits, Berry. She's not mad. She probably just wants to ask you a few questions."
"What will I say?"
"It's up to you."
"And you're leaving me here all of a sudden?" Rachel asks dramatically.
"Stop being a drama queen, Berry."
"Why was I pregnant again?"
"I made it up because—"
"—because you got scared to admit that you like her—"
"Wait!" Santana stops on her tracks. "You can't say that!"
"Oh, I will."
"Berry!"
"I'm just kidding," Rachel says. "So, what am I going to say?"
"Tell her I asked you to lie."
"But why?"
"Because—"
Santana is cut off when Quinn's voice comes calling her from the kitchen, "Santana, dinner is ready. I am not gonna serve you your food."
"Wait," Rachel interrupts. "Quinn is cooking?"
"Yes, what's—"
"She's the guest and she's cooking?"
"Berry, she's hardly a guest."
"Oh my God, you really don't know how to do this."
"Thank you, Berry. You are the best friend a girl can ever ask for."
"Are you gonna make her wash the dishes, too?"
"If she insi—"
"No! Santana, you will do the dishes, you will let her sleep on your bed and you will sleep on the couch even if you could sleep on Kurt's or mine's. This is called courtesy, Santana. Cour-te-sy."
Santana rolls her eyes, "That's not how I roll."
"With your friends, no. But you and I—and Quinn—know that this is not a friendly thing anymore. Being yourself is one thing but courtesy and being nice is out of the question."
Santana can really just roll her eyes, "Fine."
Quinn calls her out again, this time, she calls her out louder, "Santana!"
Santana groans, "I'm coming, mom!"
Rachel giggles from the other line, "This is so domestic."
Santana's face warms up at that. She thinks she's blushing. "Shut it, Berry."
"Bye, Santana. Dinner is waiting," Rachel teases.
Ugh.
"Go away, Berry."
"You called me."
"Go away."
Rachel only giggles as she hangs up.
LATER THAT NIGHT
After dinner—and after Santana did the dishes, out of courtesy of course—she and Quinn have decided to have some late night wine while tuning in to what was on TV. Quinn has chosen the marathon of Storage Wars of all things that are on TV at that moment. She says she loves it and it's interesting to find out what people keep in their garage when it all comes down to it.
She watches it, too and somehow finds it enjoyable mainly because Quinn seems to love it so much.
They watch and sip wine in silence until Quinn breaks it.
"How was Brittany's visit?" Quinn asks without tearing up her eyes from the TV screen.
Santana's attention snaps instantly to Quinn, surprised that Quinn knows about the visit and nervous because they are now talking about Brittany. She wanted to ask how she knew about Brittany's visit but Santana knows that's not really the point.
Santana swallows, "It was okay."
Yes, how articulate, Santana.
Quinn doesn't say anything and waits for Santana to continue.
It has somehow become their thing—when Santana screws up on her words, Quinn would just let Santana gather herself.
"She's quitting MIT and she plans on dancing again."
Quinn smiles a bit, "That's nice."
Santana nods as she turns back to the TV and sips on her wine. Brittany is a sensitive topic not just to her but also to Quinn—and especially to whatever is happening between them. One way or another, they're both gonna have to talk about Brittany.
Quinn cared a lot about Brittany. Although Quinn was never known for her ability to hold her temper, she was most patient with Brittany. Alongside her AP classes, Glee, and cheerleading—and other times the Celibacy Club—Quinn did all of Brittany's homework and helped her in whichever way she can.
The Unholy Trinity used to be a balanced friendship. They used to be really good friends. They used to do everything together until they all finally had to grow up. Santana fell in love with Brittany and sneaked away with her during breaks and lunches, leaving Quinn to her Cheerios minions—and the mass of boys she surrounded herself with.
On paper, they were still friends. But when Quinn walked in on Santana and Brittany at the Cheerios locker room one day, they started falling apart. They still hangout but they simply weren't the same anymore. Santana confided more to Brittany and Quinn mostly caged herself from both of them.
Still, on bad days, Santana ran to Quinn and vice-versa. They were still there for each other—the way it's always been before Brittany became relevant to the conversation. They were the Yin to the other's Yang, the Lucy to the other's Ethel, or simply the Tom to the other's Jerry; (or maybe the Tina Fey to the other's Amy Poehler). She could go on and on about the greatest duos of all time but that's not really the point here.
Santana smiles at the thought of how she and Quinn, err Lucy, first met.
It was on a fairly great day at the hospital. She was sitting by the lounge of her dad's clinic when the Fabrays walked in. Santana remembers seeing two well-combed looking human beings with a child that doesn't resemble much to them.
Cradled on the blonde man's arms was a chubby, curly haired little girl who wore braces she could see from afar. She wore beautiful clothes but out of the many annoying physical characteristics the kid had, Santana noticed her eyes first. Her eyes were beautiful.
Santana later learns that the man is Russell Fabray, one of the most influential men in Lima and the woman is his wife Judy.
The kid is named Lucy.
When her mother and father got called up for their annual physical check-up, Lucy sat on the couch silently, reading any magazine she could reach. Santana comes up to her and talks to her. They talk about cartoons and the Christmas lights festival at the town center.
It's the first connection she felt with anyone.
And when Quinn cracked a joke about how she hates kids who Christmas carolled at their house with horrible singing voices, Santana knew she had her first friend ever.
It was easy to be friends with Lucy because she's smart and she understood Santana even if she didn't make sense most of the time. Lucy was also brave. Even if the kids picked on her at the playground, she never backed down. She fought back—with every annoying fat and curly hair she had, Lucy fought back.
Up until this day, Santana still smiles at the memory.
Out of the many changes she had gone through, Lucy never really left. She became Quinn, yes but somehow, the brave in Lucy always resurfaced whenever Quinn needed it.
It shocked Santana, though—the way one's supposed to be shocked when your best friend comes to school one day looking like a different person. It was middle school when Lucy became Quinn. And Santana didn't like it one bit but she always admired Quinn's reasons behind her actions.
She never used that against her, ever, because Lucy was special to Santana. Even Cheerios supremacy cannot change that. Besides, Quinn's status did her more good than bad.
At the end of the day, there are two things Lucy and Quinn had in common: they're both brave.
And their eyes are beautiful.
"How are things with you and Brittany?" Quinn asks, snapping Santana out of reverie.
Santana clears her throat, "Good, I guess."
"She told me she wanted to live here."
"She told you?"
Quinn shrugs, "She just called me one day and told me."
"She wants to audition for the shows here in New York so, she thought it was a nice idea to live here."
"And?"
"And what?"
"What did you say?"
"I told her she can't."
Now, they're talking.
"That's harsh."
Santana nods, "It will make sense to her one day."
Quinn nods calmly but Santana knows better. There's something on Quinn's mind. "Why'd you ask?"
Quinn shrugs as she gives Santana a brief look, "I was just curious."
Come on.
"How did you know she visited me?" Santana pries.
Quinn smirks bitterly, "When it comes down to it—Santana always chooses Brittany."
That stings.
It really does.
Quinn continues, "Besides, Rachel was acting strange that day. She kept talking about New Directions and the conversation somehow always goes back to Brittany. I just figured it out."
"Sherlock Fabray."
Quinn only nods.
"She wanted us to get back together."
There it is.
There was a sudden shift in Quinn's facial expression. It lasted for about a fraction of second but Santana is certain she didn't imagine it. She had been waiting for it—the moment Quinn's resolve breaks.
"What did you say?" Quinn says, perking up on her seat. Santana could tell she's tense and that she's struggling to concentrate on whatever was happening with Storage Wars.
"That we can't."
"Why? That's what you wanted, right?"
Santana nods, "Yeah. Probably."
Quinn takes a deep breath and drinks all of what was left of her wine in one sip.
It's almost funny watching Quinn turn to be a neurotic freak who's trying to calm herself down. If Quinn just wasn't so good at covering up for her emotions, Santana is certain she'd be pacing back and forth by now. It almost makes Santana smile.
"So, why didn't you go for it?"
Santana leans back on her seat with a smile. She knows she is winning this mind game.
"I told her there's someone else."
Quinn softens in an instant and it's amazing for Santana to witness that kind of shift. Somehow, she sees Quinn fight the urge to smile. Quinn's attention is fixed at the TV screen but there's a spark in Quinn's eyes now.
"Is there?" Quinn asks in a low voice.
Santana thinks it's cute.
"Someone else?" Santana clarifies.
"Yeah."
Santana makes a bold move—probably the boldest one to date—to send a message. She takes Quinn's hand and laces their fingers together. She smiles and then says, "I believe so, yes."
Then it happens.
Quinn's façade breaks entirely. She smiles bashfully—almost uncharacteristically. She's blushing and God, Santana feels good knowing the reason behind it. She's never seen Quinn like this—not with Finn, Puck, Sam, or that filthy professor.
Santana mentally taps herself on the back for that.
It's a revelation and Santana thinks she'll never get tired learning new things about Quinn.
Quinn scoots closer to her and then adjusts herself next to Santana. The brunette puts her arm around Quinn and uses the other to hold Quinn's hand. She hopes this is becoming their thing, too.
"How's that going for you?" Quinn asks softly.
"I'm working on it."
It's not much.
But it's progress.
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I want to explore more on their childhood history so, let me know your thoughts about this!
PS: I'm sorry for all the typos. The NGO I'm working for has tasked us to gather help for the victims of typhoon in the Philippines, so things are pretty rough at work. I hope you can help if you can! Thank you all!