Helllooooo darlings! Quinntana week is coming so soon! (woot!)

Thank you for all the reviews, my darlings! I've reached just over 200 for just 10 chapters, and to me, that is something really special! Thanks for everyone who's been a darling, encouraging me and letting me know what you think! Thank you for alllll your lovee!

So I think it's fitting that this chapter is longer and a tad bit more romantic. I know I'm taking a little over forever to reach anything smexy, but at least they're starting to fall in love? :)

As usual, do show me a bit more love and review! I hope you all enjoy this!

Chapter 11

Quinn's POV

I want to scream.

I want to find some desolate beach or cliff or mountain or something and scream at the top of my lungs.

But I'm stuck in the study at my home. My doorway is practically blocked because of all the law textbooks and case studies covering the floor. Part of the blocking is subconscious, because I need to trap myself in this hell-hole that I usually treasure until I can get this done.

Sebastian and his fucking client paid a witness to give false testimony. How fucking low can that damn bastard go? I'm one court hearing away from losing the case. I'm one court hearing away from setting another demon free. I'm one court hearing away from endangering god-knows-how-many women out there. I'm five days away from the court hearing.

I need something to prove what Sebastian and dip-shit did. I need something to prove my client's innocence. I need something to prove their guilt.

This study is my life now. I haven't left this room in four days. I've had my meals brought here, I've slept—or rather, napped—here, I've worked here, and I've been living here. My whole house turned into a tiny book-filled apartment. The only place I ever go other than this study is to the bathroom adjoined to this study. So, in reality, I'm still stuck in my study.

I know one lost case won't ruin me. But I know one free culprit will ruin the city.

That's it. I'm losing my mind. I'm gonna scream, outdoor or not.

—

Santana's POV

What the hell was that?

Either a demon just started shrieking in the house and burning it down, or Quinn's watching the horror movie that she watched with me in seventh grade.

But there's no smoke or fire alarm, and Quinn's too busy to watch a movie. So what the hell was that?

Grudgingly, I pick myself up from the comfort of my bed, and hurry down the stairs. The padded slippers mute my hasty steps.

I make my way through the house to Quinn's study. She has to be in there. I've been out of the house only once for 5 hours in the past four days, and I have never seen or heard her come out of that room. Twice, I wanted to go in to make sure she's at least alive, but Mia supplies her with meals on a tray, so I suppose she's still eating.

Meals for myself are getting really lonely, but that isn't important right now.

I knock quickly on the door. There's no reply but another shriek. I hear glass break. Shit.

As much as I want to just barge in, I know I can not and must not. I hear crumpling pages and a few muttered swears here and there. One more time, I raise my hand, and my knuckles come into contact with the door, the knocks crisp and loud.

"Oh for goodness sake, just open the door yourself!"

I pause for a moment, wondering if I really should open the door. Will I be met with a tired and distressed Quinn or with some stranger?

I reach for the doorknob, but the door rips open before I can take another breath.

I'm met with a stranger. She's blonde, and she's more zombie-panda-crossbreed than human. She has an air of elegance surrounding her and, I'd admit, is really beautiful. Oh, wait, this is Quinn Fabray…

"Yes?" She looks as though she can barely keep her eyes open. Her cheeks are red, her eyes redder, her hair is so messed up she has half an afro. But she still manages to smell nice. Does she shower in that study?

Quinn's dressed in her pale pink robe, only it's creased everywhere. And those dark bags under her eyes… I swear she's from another planet.

"I heard a noise, so I got a bit worried?"

"Oh, that'd be me screaming." Her tone is flat, monotonous. She's tapping her fingers impatiently at the door, wishing I'd either go or evaporate in front of her.

I do neither of the two.

"You're under too much stress."

"Mm. Good observations, Santana. Now tell me something I don't know."

"I don't think stress can help you with your case."

"What are you trying to do, Lopez, give me a bloody lecture now?" She glares daggers at me, but those eyes lack ferocity. They lack the basic twinkle they used to have.

"No, I'm merely stating," I murmur softly, knowing she's quickly losing her patience with me.

"I don't need you to tell me what I already know!" Quinn throws her hands up in the air, moving her way back inside. Just before she shuts the door, I grab her by the arm. She struggles free.

"What do you want." Her tone is more pleading than angry. I know she prefers to be left alone, but I know that overworking only slows down your brain. Being irritated won't help her think well either.

"Come up with me. Take a rest tonight. It's almost eleven. Sleep, and work tomorrow."

"I can't. It's a time bomb. Five days. Time's ticking away. It's not gonna wait for me to catch up with my sleep." She crosses her arms in front of her chest, the fabric stretching a little. Oh god, is she not wearing a bra? "Stop gawking at my breasts, I don't care if my nipples are showing, if you have nothing better to say then just leave me alone."

Shit. "Look, please, you're gonna kill yourself like this, please just rest tonight."

"It's not like I don't want to. I can't afford to, and every time I close my eyes I just see Sebastian's devilish smirk."

"I'll help you sleep."

She snorts, "How are you gonna do that, playgirl? Fuck me till I pass out?"

For a moment, her suggestion does seem very tempting. But who am I kidding, of course I can't do that. Well, I can, but I won't. "Wanky," I mutter under my breath before raising my voice, "But I think tonight we'll get you into a hot bath, and then I'll run a massage over you, alright?"

"Save that for one of your sluts, I'll pass." She turns to close the door in my face, but I stick my right foot in the gap just before she closes it.

"Fuck!" Thank god she's not slamming it with half her full strength, or I would have a broken foot. Still, I cringe in pain, the blood draining from my face. That damn door is heavy.

"Oh shit! Santana! What the hell do you think you're doing?" The door opens wide again, and her tired eyes are so wide open they look almost like dinner plates.

I hop back on my unhurt foot, biting my lip so the remnants of my own scream don't spill out. Evidently, from the awkward and apologetic smile she has on her face, my own face is distorted with pain.

Quinn sighs, looking a little defeated, much to my relief, "Alright, Santana, you've outdone yourself. Just tonight. But starting tomorrow you're gonna let me lock myself up until the court hearing."

I nod, exhaling as I put my throbbing foot on the cold tile floor. The numbing heat in my foot begins to inch away. I know the maximum I can get from this is a bruise, so I should be okay.

"Come on, you dope. You can lean on me to get you up those stairs." Quinn steps out of her study, closing the door tight behind her. She comes around on my right side, draping my arm over her own shoulders and putting her arm on my back and under my left arm. "Can you walk?"

I grin despite the pain, because I know I've won this battle, "If I say no, will you carry me?"

She looks at me with a raised brow, before shaking her head with a breathy smile, "Alright, idiot, walk it." Quinn takes a step forward slowly and I limp-hop beside her. I know if she absolutely forces me to walk on my own, I'll make it, but I do enjoy how she's keeping me so close to her, and how she's offering herself for support.

I lean on her a little bit, balancing myself out as we make it down the hallway and up the stairs. The whole process takes about a billion years, and when we reach the top, we're both as old as fossils.

Okay, no, the whole process doesn't take half that long, but it feels like it. We're both a little bit breathless when we finally reach her room. She has a small smile on her face though. It's cute.

"Why are you smiling at me like a dope?"

The smile on my face is wiped out by her words, "Uh… Nothing…"

"You like staring at me, admit it."

"Quinn—"

She plants a kiss on my cheek, and that's sufficient to shut me up. She doesn't look at me when she opens the door to her own room. Immediately she helps me to the foot bed so I can sit down properly. I bring my hurting foot up and rub it. I wince at the pain. There's definitely gonna be a bruise.

Quinn hurries to the bathroom, and within seconds, I hear water running into the tub. She's really following my orders, isn't she?

A soft scent of green apple floats through the air. I find it soothing for me, even though I'm really not stressed, so it really must work miracles for Quinn. I hear her sigh softly inside.

As I massage my own foot, I hear the tap turn off. I hear a very faint rustling of cloth as it hits the floor, and then I hear the soft splash of Quinn entering the bathtub.

Suddenly, I'm all too aware of how vulnerable she is, and how easy it would be for me to just take her in the bathtub. Damn, that would be hot.

I could go in, kiss her until she's weak (I've been told my passionate kisses are more than capable of that), and then start touching her till she's begging me for more. Then I can thrust a finger into her— woah, Santana! Watch your damn imagination!

It's really too late, because I can already feel a little wetness gathering in my panties. Damn it.

I'm really attracted to Quinn, ain't I? I swear it's only physical, though. She's hot, who wouldn't want to fuck her?

I place my foot back onto the ground, smiling to myself that I can now walk properly again. Sort of. Standing up, I take a stretch. Then I let my feet lead me to… Quinn's bathroom?

She's left the door slightly ajar, and peeking in, I can see her pale skin against a plethora of bubbles. The scent of green apple is stronger here, more soothing.

Quinn has her hair pinned up into a messy bun, a lose strand of her golden bangs dangling. The water and bubbles cover her up to just above her breasts. I can make out her flawless collar bones, see her beautiful neck and one of her arms, which is just above the water. She lets out a contented sigh.

Gingerly, I knock at the door.

"Come in," she sings, sinking herself a little lower into the water. It's lapping at her collar bones now. She looks really beautiful.

I open the door a little more and slip in, smiling at her, "Is Quinnie feeling a little better?"

She smiles when I call her 'Quinnie', and nods at my question, "Thanks for sacrificing your foot and dragging me out of there."

I walk a little closer, deciding to sit on the edge of her bathtub. I dip one hand into the hot water, trailing just the surface. I want to join her in this bath. Surely, the bathtub is big enough! I'm really getting ahead of myself.

"Admit I'm right about you needing a break this time, Q."

"Never!" She lets out musical laughter, tired as she is, and I find fingertips brushing against my own. I pretend not to notice, though, and just let my hand sit still in the water. I feel her fingers hold onto mine, and I sort of hold her's used to do this when we were still in primary school. All sleepovers began like this, with us sometimes together in the bathtub.

It feels a little uncomfortable sitting on the cold white marble while my core is burning up in passion thanks to how hot Quinn looks in the bath. I squirm a little, but Quinn doesn't seem to notice.

Just like that, we sit a while in silence. Suddenly, there's so much I want to say to her, but I know I can't.

Some things are just better off never said.

I wonder if she's ever regretted pushing me away after I kissed her for the first time ever…

"Hey, S, can you get me a fresh robe from my second drawer on the right outside?"

I snap out of my long mental list of questions and smile at her, "Yeah. How many robes do you have?"

She smiles back, letting go of me as I rise, taking my hand out of the water. It feels surprisingly cold as the air hits it. Must be the temperature difference. Not the lack of Quinn's touch.

I step out of the bathroom, following her directions and finding her a white one. I feel the soft fabric in my hands and make my way back into the bathroom.

Evidently, Quinn doesn't think I'll be back so soon, because as I enter, I find her stretching, her breasts above the water, in full view. God, she's gorgeous.

She notices me and sinks back under the water, a shy smile and a soft pink tinting her cheeks.

"I'll leave it here by your towel? Do you have any lotion I can use for the massage?"

She points to the pile of bottles beside her sink, "Actually, I have body oil somewhere there."

I nod and pick up a clear bottle, "Mango?"

She shrugs, "I'll be smelling like a weird fruit punch at the end of all this."

"Nah. The apple smell should be covered with this one," I smile as I head out the door, reaching out to close it, "I'll be outside, yeah?"

—

Quinn's POV

Santana's definitely right about needing a break. I really am tired.

As I rise from the comfort of the water, I reach out for the towel on a nearby shelf. I wrap it around my body as I step out of the tub, landing my feet on a soft carpet. I dry my body slowly.

Oh damn, forgot about my panties. Whatever.

I slip the robe on, literally butt-naked underneath it, and move to the large mirror that sits behind my sink. I look horrifying. No wonder Santana was staring at me like I was crazy when I first opened the door of my study.

Pulling the pin out of my hair and watching it fall to my shoulders, I reach for a comb to smooth out the tangles. It hurts as I yank the comb roughly through locks of tangled gold. This reminds me to bring a comb down to the study next time I plan on camping in there. I've washed my hair in the sink downstairs, but failed to comb it out.

When at last, my hair cascades down my back in the way that I find acceptable, I put the comb down and turn for the door.

I open the door, expecting a bright room. But no, no bright room greets me. Instead the room is dark, but smells really soothing. I look around, noticing that only a few candles are serving as light source. The light flickers as the flame itself flickers, but my eyes only notice one person. Santana's sitting at the edge of my bed. I take a step towards her, towards my bed. All of a sudden, my heart is pounding.

Stop pounding, heart. It's a command!

But since when has my heart started listening to my commands?

"I don't bite?" Santana smiles at me curiously as I take small steps towards her. I bite my lip in response, unsure of what to answer. "Unless you prefer that…" she adds with a sly whisper.

I hear soft music in the background. Like… bird songs? I'm not sure what they are or where Santana's playing them from, but at the moment, I don't want to care.

Is it just me or is this atmosphere really romantic?

I realize that Santana has stored my blanket away… somewhere, and placed a huge soft towel on my bed. She's also put a smaller towel on my pillow. I decide this is so the body oil doesn't stain anything.

I move to sit on the bed, readying myself to lie down. She looks at me questioningly, and I find myself staring back.

"When's the last time you've been to a massage parlour?"

"Um… how about never?" I squeak, staring into her eyes. Is it the dark, my tiredness, or is Santana really beautiful tonight?

She lets out a small laugh, "I think I need to tell you that usually you go naked for a massage. Well, with underwear only."

"Oh…" She seems to sense my blush even though it's too dark to see.

"I mean, we don't have to, but it'll feel better if you do?"

"I'm not wearing panties, and I don't intend to get oil on any of my underwear… Is that… okay?" What the hell am I saying? I can't be uncovered in front of Santana! Not fully uncovered anyway.

"Um…" she looks at me funny, but she nods anyways, "Sure. Why don't you take off your robe and lie down on the bed? Closer to the edge? I'll turn around and you tell me when you're ready?"

I nod as she turns. With a quick moment, I pull the ribbon holding my robe together and lie down on the bed. I'm thankful that it's so dark in here—had there been a glimmer more of light, my blush would have been super obvious.

Why am I feeling so shy around her tonight? I must just be really tired.

I lie down on my back, staring at the ceiling for a moment. Do I trust Santana?

"You're ready?"

"Yea." I look away as she turns back around. There's no other hint of movement though, so I turn my head to look at her. She's standing still. She's staring at me. Her eyes are feasting on my naked body. Strangely, I don't feel the need to cover myself up.

"When I said lie down, I meant on your stomach…" her voice is a bare whisper, and it's clear she's a little embarrassed too, "But I suppose we can start the massage from the front."

"You never said anything about which side," I retort, as I watch her move towards me. My lower back tingles and I shiver slightly.

"It's okay," she smiles as she takes the bottle on my nightstand and the liquid drips all over her fingers. In the dim candlelight, her fingers shimmer. I wonder how they'd feel like in—nope, not happening.

I suddenly realize why my heart is beating so fast. It's Santana. I… want her? No. Fucking. Way.

"Close your eyes and relax. Trust me."

Strangely, I do all three of the things she tells me to. Or try to anyway.

I hear Santana exhale and then I feel her hands on my collar bones. They move over me with ease thanks to the oil. I obviously tense up at her touch, but she smoothes out my anxiety with a few quick movements.

I wonder if she's staring at me. My lips? My breasts maybe? Or something else?

"Stop frowning like you don't like it."

I sigh as I feel her hands move down to my arm. Her rubbing isn't too soft, but it isn't too hard either. It's just perfect. I let out a small groan as she works her way down to my wrist and fingers. She pulls at them gently till a 'pop' sounds. She then rubs them again. They're so tired from writing and typing. Whatever she's doing, she's doing a good job.

I let her fingers work their way back up to my shoulders, pushing against my skin just above my breast to reach my shoulders. Then she moves to the other side of the bed, climbing on this time, and does the same with my other arm.

When she's done, she softly tells me to roll over so she can do my back. I suddenly realize she could have done my arms even with my lying face down.

Does she like my body?

I do as told, and almost immediately, I feel her freshly-oiled hands slide across my back, along my spine. As her fingers slide over the small of my back, I let out a small moan. Shit.

For a moment, her fingers stop their movement. I'm almost afraid she'll spit out an insult or some comment that would utterly embarrass me. She doesn't though, but continues to run her hands along my back. Every time she reaches the small of my back, I let out a sound. A pretty sexual sound, really, but I'm a little too tired and enjoying this little too much to care.

Her fingers run all the way to my tailbone, and I flinch, but she goes no further, so I let myself relax again. When Santana's hands come up to my shoulder she begins to rub her thumbs just along my muscle. I let out another moan as I feel the pent-up stress released, and I hear her bite back a small laugh.

"You're tight." She pauses as we both weigh out the comment she just made, "Your shoulders, I mean."

"I know," I murmur, "It's okay."

"Does it feel good?"

"Hell yeah. Don't stop."

"You like it right here?" She runs her fingers along that muscle again, pushing it upwards.

I break into a half-groan-half-whimper, "Keep doing that spot."

With every single push, I feel a little bit of my stress slipping away. With every single touch, I feel my worries relieved.

She's not wrong about having magical fingers.

I groan as she takes her fingers off me to reapply some more oil. This atmosphere, the dim lights, the scent, her fingers—they all make me feel more relaxed than I've ever been.

Santana trails her fingers down the back of my thighs and calves, all the way down to my feet. She massages my sole of my feet, and I bite back a giggle. But it gets a little too much with her gentler touches, and I actually burst out in a fit of laughter as I try to withdraw my foot. "You're tickling me!"

Santana is obviously very much amused at my response. "No, you're just super ticklish!"

"It feels funny!"

"Do you want me to continue or not?"

I turn mute and bury my face in the pillow, deciding to let her continue as I try to muffle my giggles. I'm glad her hands don't linger long on my feet, as good as it feels.

In about another minute on this foot, she moves to the second, and then to my calves. As she presses, it hurts, but it hurts good. My mind barely registers that her touch is moving upwards until she's working her magic on the insides of my thigh, going dangerously close to my—"Santana!" My eyes shoot open as I turn to look at her.

Instantly, she pulls her hands away. She looks confused though, not guilty. "Sorry, does it hurt a lot?"

"No… just…"

"Too close for comfort?"

"A little…"

"I don't have to go so high if you don't want, alright?" she smiles apologetically, making me believe she didn't do it on purpose, "Sorry."

"No… it's okay… Just.. surprised."

She nods and smiles, motioning for me to lie back down. I do so, closing my eyes. She moves her touch an inch lower, and in another few minutes, she does the same to my other leg.

I wish I could enslave her somehow so she'd always be around to do this for me.

Suddenly, her hands run up the length of my leg, over my bare ass, and onto my back, resting on my shoulder-blades. I'm almost certain this isn't necessary, but I decide to keep quiet. I suppose if she'll be giving me a full body massage, I'll at least let her touch my ass a little.

What kind of logic is that?

I feel her hands on the back of my neck, working their way onto my shoulders once more. I let out another sigh and a couple of moans as she once more relaxes every part of me.

If this is how good her fingers feel outside of my body, I wonder what she'd do inside…

No, that's impossible, and I won't allow it to happen. I hope. I'm not having sex with Santana any time soon. I don't want it.

Who am I kidding, of course I want it. She's hot and she's probably the goddess of fingering as much as she is the goddess of massage.

But I don't want to get attached to her. I can't. This is all temporary.

She'll only break me if I fall in love her anyways. And she won't fall in love with me for sure. She can't. If she's capable, then please don't…

Suddenly, Santana presses hard on the back of my neck, and I let out another groan. As she pulls me out of my trouble thoughts, I find myself feeling a little like I'm floating. Her fingers feel wondrous. I love it.

I don't really remember where else she goes after that. Maybe my arm again. Or my back. Or maybe she repeated the whole process one more time. I don't know.

When I woke up, the room was dark. The candles were snuffed out, but the scent of mango and of… Santana lingers. I'm under the covers, snuggled up against my pillows. I reach out, trying to see if Santana's sleeping beside me.

But I'm alone.

It saddens me a little to know that she's left me, but I suppose I ought to be glad.

I feel loosened up all over.

I'm thankful that she's in my life. I'm thankful I have her. I'm thankful she didn't take advantage of me. I'm glad that maybe she does hate me a little less than I thought she did, and that she cares for me a little more than she needs to.

I close my eyes, and snuggle closer into the covers. I feel it directly on me, so I must still be naked. I can't be bothered about it though.

It doesn't take long for me to fall asleep again, with Santana smiling in my head.