Santana didn't think Finn could cook or bake at all. Which is why, when she woke up on Sunday morning and smelled Lemon and poppy-seed muffins baking, she assumed that Quinn, Sam and Ash had come home early from their weekend at the beach. Santana pulled herself out of bed and ran a hand through her sloppy - yet beautiful- hair while dragging herself down the stairs. She yawned and sat at the counter top. Finn handed her a glass of orange juice and her normal coffee. Santana looked around.

"Um, where's Quinn? It smells like the muffins are almost done," Santana asked him. Finn chuckled and turned back to the stove top, cracking an egg in a pan. Wait, what? Santana squinted. Was this really happening?

"She's still at the beach with her husband and bouncing bundle of joy. I'm making muffins and omelets," Finn smirked. Santana shook her head and smiled.

"That's not possible, Finn Hudson doesn't cook," Santana teased him. He raised an eyebrow and gestured towards his pan of omelet mixture- which smelled godly.

"Oh he doesn't?" Finn smirked. He set a plate in front of Santana. She eyed it warily. It looked like a harmless lemon and poppy-seed muffin next to a cheddar, mushroom and spinach omelet, but she really couldn't be sure. She took a tentative bite of the omelet. She chewed thoughtfully and she had to admit...it was amazing.

"Oh my god, this is like...heavenly," Santana said, cramming more onto her fork. Finn's eyes twinkled impishly and he leaned forward with a mocking smile on his face.

"See the saying is supposed to be that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, not that the way to Santana's heart is through her stomach," Finn smirked. Santana rolled her eyes and poked him with her fork.

"Shut up," she said before taking another bite. Finn watched her as he ate his own food. Santana was now breaking off pieces of her muffin and chewing slowly. She looked up at Finn through her eyelashes. Damn, he had a lot of tricks up his sleeve. Santana cleared her plate and stole a piece of gum from Finn's coat pocket. It was probably her only consistent early morning habit. Gum after breakfast. She liked to chew, and she really hated the innuendos and jokes that she'd had from Chad about it.

Santana felt Finn's eyes on her as she slid back into her seat. He smiled and moistened his lips absently before clearing his own plate. Santana watched him intently, memorizing every mannerism, his flow and motion. He caught her staring and turned to face her.

"You like what you see?" Finn asked. Santana's heart caught in her throat.

"No," she lied. Finn pushed a strand of her hair back. Santana's heart raced. He was so close. Santana looked up at him and let out a breathy sigh.

"You look...nice," Finn said. Santana licked her lips nervously. The tension was almost unbearable.

"You weren't drunk that night," Finn murmured. Santana bit her lip.

"Yeah I was," she insisted softly. Finn rested a hand on her cheek. She leaned into his touch. She was a sucker.

"Well, then I think there is a memory from that night that we are both missing," Finn reminded her. He started to say something else, but Santana was having none of that. She pressed her lips to his fiercely, successfully shutting him up. Finn walked around the counter and returned that first kiss eagerly and urgently. He pushed Santana against the wall bringing his free hand up to her neck. It was like a dance between their lips, and yet the same time it was like a heated battle. They ended up with Santana's waist pressed to the back of the couch and Finn pressed little too hard. They rolled onto the couch. Santana wrapped her legs around his waist and he carried them as far as he could before he lost his grip and settle her for pressing her back against the bathroom door. Santana gripped his collar and ran one hand through his hair. Oh god, she felt the adoration and euphoria swimming through her veins. Somewhere, Santana realized that she wouldn't be able to cite being drunk to get out of the aftermath of the kiss. But at the moment, she really didn't care. Not when Finn was pressing her against a wall and refusing to break this kiss and being such a fucking good kisser.

"You're a really good kisser," Santana murmured before crashing her lips against his. Finn made a small hum of gratitude. A click of a lock opening separated their lips. Quinn and Sam walked through the door. Their eyes widened when they saw Finn pressing Santana against the bathroom door with his hands cradling her face and Santana with one hand on Finn neck and the other pulling at his shirt.

"Uh, welcome home?" Finn stammered.