Sorry, forgot to mention that this story won't include Beth, least not in the context from canon.
If there are mistakes, charge it to my head not my heart.
-TM
Quinn sat on the edge of the dresser, watching Rachel get comfortable on the bed while Santana got comfortable on the floor, and she decided to start with the fourth day of Santana's five-day suspension, which just so happened to be the day things somewhat fell apart while falling into place.
"San? You in here?"
Breaking glass told Quinn all she needed to know, and she dropped the bags of groceries on the counter and followed the noise to the back room where she would more than likely find her best friend. The last few days had been stressful on everyone, but on none more so than Santana. She'd not only gotten suspended, but her father had to pay off Finn's medical bills and signed a contract that would ensure that if any other future medical problems were stemming from the incident, he would have to pay those too. Kurt refused to tell anyone about Finn's state, but he made sure to paint Santana as the bad guy. Sure, she shouldn't have reacted the way that she did, but considering Finn was still breathing and had full use of all his limbs, Quinn figured the tall idiot got lucky.
She opened the door to the room hesitantly, afraid of getting hit by stray shards of glass or splinters of broken wood, but she surprisingly found Santana standing in the middle of the room, hands on her hips and eyes closed. Quinn took in the state of the former bedroom turned rage space, and was happy that most of the furniture remained intact. She was tired of driving around Lima in hopes of finding couches or chairs on the side of the road, and she damn sure wasn't going to keep going to the junkyard to find stuff either.
"You were gone longer than normal," Santana said, breaking the silence of the room.
"Some dickhead ran into a powerline by the store and knocked the streetlights out. I had to go a long way."
"I called my Dad. He said he won't be home for another couple days, so if you want to stay-
"You don't have to ask," Quinn interrupted. "I was already planning on sticking around."
Santana twisted her head slightly to the side, eyeing Quinn with dark eyes, and nodded. "I figured, which is why I ordered pizza like ten minutes ago. He should be here soon."
"He?"
"Puck," she murmured. "The pizza boy doesn't feel safe delivering to our house anymore so I give the money to Puck and he goes to pick it up for me."
"When did you scare off the pizza delivery guy?"
"I didn't. His younger brother goes to McKinley, on the football team, and after I did what I did to Finn, I got a note taped to the door from several delivery drivers who said they won't come here anymore out of fear for their lives."
Quinn rubbed her chest at the weird feeling spreading through her body and said, "I'm sorry San."
"It's fine. I knew there would be consequences for my actions. Speaking of which…" she trailed off and turned around entirely. "I know she called you again."
"She did. I didn't answer."
"I know. Did she leave a voicemail?"
"Why do you care?"
"The last voicemail she left was of her masturbating and moaning my name," Santana deadpanned. "I was only curious if she did the same for you or if you got a different type of greeting."
"She- wow. Really?" Quinn made a face. "That's a little-
"Weird? Creepy? Depraved?"
"Yes to all of the above."
Santana hummed and tip-toed her way through the trash and chaos, coming to stand directly in front of Quinn. In the seconds of silence that followed, that weird feeling spread through Quinn's chest again, and she felt her face heating up the longer they stood there without saying anything. Santana seemed to pick up on her discomfort and smiled.
"Sorry. I was just curious about why you aren't wearing your uniform."
"Ah. Coach temporarily suspended me to make sure that I kept an eye on you and kept you from getting deported or arrested. Her words, not mine."
"I'm a legal citizen. Why do I have to keep telling her that?" Santana huffed.
"Because she knows it gets under your skin," Quinn said.
"Yeah, well, whatever. Did you get everything you needed from the store?"
"Unhuh. You mean did I get your Sour Patch Kids?" Quinn guessed.
Santana shifted and folded her arms, looking away for a moment before she said, "Well, if you didn't, that's fine, but if you did, that's fine too."
"I got your damn candy, Santana. You sent me seven text messages today reminding me."
"I sent you ten the last time, and you still forgot the muffins," Santana pointed out.
Quinn rolled her eyes and walked out of the room into the hallway. "I had a lot on my mind," she said.
And by a lot on her mind, Quinn meant that she was held up by Mr. Schue who begged her to convince Santana to come back to the Glee Club while simultaneously excusing Finn and Brittany's behavior. On top of that, Kurt and Mercedes tried blackmailing Quinn into doing the same thing and were severely disappointed when all Quinn did was walk away. It was a long afternoon, and Quinn hadn't bothered telling Santana about it. Especially since Brittany and Finn were actively trying to pretend like they didn't know each other throughout the school day. It was headache-inducing, and she barely remembered to get dinner for the two of them, let alone a pack of chocolate chip muffins.
"Earth to Quinn!"
She jumped and blinked at Santana's proximity, trying to ignore the brown eyes boring into her own. Pouted lips curled downward, and Quinn had a shocking revelation go through her mind that she never wanted to see that look again.
"H-huh?" she stammered, shaking off whatever was happening to her.
"I asked if you wanted a beer."
"What kind?" she asked automatically, knowing Santana drank the worst kind of beer.
"I have some Modelo in the fridge. I asked my Dad to get some because I know how much you hate my Sapporo."
"Still weird your Dad buys alcohol for you."
"He said he would rather I drink here and be safe rather than go out, drink, and get hurt," Santana said, shrugging.
"I guess that's one way of looking at it."
Santana smiled and grabbed Quinn's hand, tugging her in the direction of the kitchen. "Just come on. I want to cuddle and watch Cold Case," she said.
Quinn glanced down at the intertwined fingers and cataloged the way their hands molded together, but she would be lying to herself if she didn't feel as if something was missing. It was like they were half-right, but not wholly right. Sighing, she tightened her grip and willingly let Santana drag her down the hall to the kitchen, smiling as her friend rambled about her day.
By the time her fourth beer became her fifth, Puck had dropped off the food and was gone again, claiming he had some homework to do, and they were sprawled out on the floor. Stuffed with pepperoni and mushroom pizza, the two former Cheerios were high from the weed Puck brought just in case, the beer, and the divine goodness that was pizza.
"Do you want to know why I'm so mad at Brittany?" Santana suddenly asked.
Quinn blinked and rolled over on her side, facing the slightly glazed over eyes of her friend and said, "I would like to know, yes."
"Because I told her in advance that it took a lot for me to trust and love someone the way that I loved her, and she threw it back in my face while throwing it back for Finn."
"Ew."
"What? I'm just saying. You were there, you saw it."
"Been trying to forget it, honestly," Quinn muttered.
"Me too, but I can't. I keep seeing it in my head late at night and sometimes during the day. I keep watching him thrust into her over and over again, sometimes I'm just standing there, and I don't do anything. I feel frozen to the spot watching the same thing over and over again."
Quinn frowned at the pain in her words and reached over, putting her hand on Santana's shoulder. "Sweetheart, you can't keep doing that to yourself. You'll never move on if you keep thinking about it," she whispered.
"What's there to move on too? Brittany was supposed to be the end of it for me, my perfect match, or whatever she used to say to me. Now," Santana sighed and sat up straight, "now, I don't know."
Quinn sat up too and scooted closer, mindful of the leftover pizza between them. She wrapped an arm around Santana's shoulder and said, "She isn't the only lesbian in the world, you know."
"Yeah, but she's the only one here, and I don't want to be lonely for the next three years."
"Who said she's the only one here?" Quinn asked quietly, staring hard at the wall opposite where they were sitting.
"What did you just say?"
Quinn sighed and dropped her arm, wrapping it around her knees. "I said, what makes you think Brittany is the only lesbian in Lima?" she repeated.
Santana stared at her profile, questioning without really saying anything, and Quinn told her the truth.
"I'm gay, Santana. I have been for a while now. I'm just really good at hiding it."
"What?! What about Puck and Finn and-
"I used Puck as a beard to make my Dad mad. Puck pretended to be my boyfriend, but behind closed doors, we just played video games and watched shitty horror movies. Finn was a mistake, one I regret every day."
Santana's mouth dropped open, and she started laughing, running a hand through her hair. "Holy shit, you're a carpet muncher," she exclaimed.
"Must you be so crude?"
"Hell the fuck yes! Especially after that bomb you just dropped on me."
"Look, I was going to tell you, but-
"No, I get it. I didn't tell you until I absolutely had too, so no biggie," Santana cut in, waving her off. "I'm just shocked is all that little, holier-than-thou is actually down for a little bump and grind of the feminine kind."
Quinn blinked and said, "Where the hell do you come up with this stuff?"
Santana shrugged. "I'm talented."
Quinn rolled her eyes and was about to call her out on her bullshit when Santana lunged forward and kissed her square on the lips. It was short, soft, and over before Quinn could catch her footing.
"I- what- why?" she sputtered.
"I dunno. Waiting for the inevitable freak-out."
"You- wait, you thought I was lying to you?!" Quinn shouted. "SERIOUSLY?!"
Santana winced and said, "I just wanted to make sure you weren't trying to make me feel better or anything."
"I don't love you that much," Quinn huffed, getting off the floor. She wavered for a bit before she stumbled into the kitchen for a bottle of water. "I swear if you weren't hot, I'd punch you dead in your face right now."
Santana came up behind her and stopped, a weird look on her face. She cocked her head and said, "Did you just call me hot?"
Quinn choked on the water she'd just opened and held up her finger, clearing her airways so that she could breathe. "I, uh, no?" she lied.
"You so did!"
"Okay, fine, I did. So what?"
"I dunno. I've always been called hot, but when you say it, it feels different."
"How?"
"Probably because it's you and you're the sexiest girl I've ever met and slept with, including Brittany."
Quinn knew she was redder than the marina sauce staining Santana's collarbone and said, "Please don't say that. You make it sound like we had sex."
Santana stepped closer and reached out, pulling Quinn close by the drawstrings of her pajamas. There was a brief pause by both of them, each one testing to see who would back down first, but neither one did. Quinn put down her water bottle and swallowed the nerves roaring in her throat. Santana leaned forward, and as did Quinn.
That same night, one would blame it on the alcohol while the other would blame the situation with Brittany. They would argue, confess things they weren't even ready to admit to themselves, and curse each other with promises and threats of never seeing the other again. They would cry themselves to sleep, but would reach for the body they'd become accustomed to sleeping next too. They would feel their lips warm with random thoughts of the other and would stand under the spray of the shower water with nimble fingers hoping to relieve the growing tension between their thighs.
But it wouldn't work.
They would miss each other for weeks, and it wouldn't be until a Fourth of July party for them to recognize that whatever happened with them that night nearly two months ago wasn't going away or diminishing from separation.
It was growing, and it grew into a relationship no one but only a few predicted. Long nights of confessions and admittances and secrets turned their best friendship into a relationship that was only two-thirds of the way complete.
Another realization they didn't have until months later.
Quinn blinked away the memories and turned back to face Rachel, belatedly realizing Santana had moved to stand beside her. She swiped at the tears streaming down her face and smiled tightly at a clearly upset Rachel.
"And that's really the summary of what happened between us," she finished, folding her arms against her chest.
Rachel shook her head and cleared her throat, playing the edge of her cover. "But…what does that have to do with the Glee club or me?" she asked softly.
"What Quinn neglected to expound on was that she and I may have been in a relationship, but we both were hiding a very dangerous secret from one another that could have blown up in our faces had we not talked it out."
"Dangerous?" Rachel repeated.
"She's making it sound much more ominous than it needs to be," Quinn grumbled. "It wasn't dangerous, just extremely sensitive."
"The same thing," Santana said breezily.
"Does this secret have to remain a secret, or are you going to tell me?" Rachel said, a little annoyed.
"Ah, right. That is why we came up here, isn't it?" Santana sighed. "There is no easy way to say this, though," she added right after.
"It's harder than any cheer routine we've done."
"Harder than any exercise, Coach put us through."
"Harder than any family bible study, I had to sit through."
"Will you just tell me!" Rachel exclaimed, exasperated with their stalling.
Santana looked at Quinn, who shrugged and gestured towards Rachel, and Santana snorted at the action.
"You would make me confess it. Again."
"You're so good at it."
"How in the world am I supposed to just blurt out, again, that I'm in love with Rachel?" Santana asked, pretending not to hear the shocked gasp that left Rachel's lips.
"Well, the same could be said for me. How do you expect me to admit the same thing?" Quinn huffed, her lips curling a little at the ploy pulled off by Santana.
The two pretended to be caught off guard when Rachel's voice strayed into the high-pitched territory as she screeched, "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!"