"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to."
"I don't much care where –"
"Then it doesn't matter which way you go."
– Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland –
You pick her up at the train station a week later on Friday and she runs right into your arms. And you get it. You absolutely get it. Feeling her breath of relief against your neck, you finally manage to breathe out as well. It takes you until this very moment – Quinn still in your arms, safe – to acknowledge how shaken you are by the news of guns being fired at your old school.
You notice, all of a sudden, just how fast life can be taken away, even though, in this case, no one was hurt – fortunately. You notice it especially now, with Quinn in your arms, because it is exactly how you felt while sitting at Quinn's hospital bed little more than a year ago, begging her to open her eyes, just for one second. It sheds new light on life and makes most things seem so very irrelevant.
"I missed you," you simply whisper in her hair and it's a sort of vulnerability that doesn't come easily to you. It doesn't to Quinn either and you expect a scoff or joke on how it has only been little over a week since you last saw each other.
She surprises you by giving you neither of those reactions. Offering a heartfelt and short "me too" instead.
She still hasn't let go of you and, even though that realization is really hard to process, you feel like you don't ever want her to.
On your way to the apartment, you tell her that your shift starts at 9 p.m. but the bar doesn't open until 10. She simply shrugs, hooking a hand into the crook of your arm and says her and Rachel would just get there later then. You're pretty sure now, that there is no way to prevent this from happening and you know this will be your toughest night of work so far.
When you're getting ready for your shift, very aware of the eyes following your every move from your bed, you delightedly realize one flaw in the blonde's plan.
"Oh shit, Q, how are you even going to get in? I mean, sure, Emily Stark totally will but how will you get the hobbit in?"
And just as you're desperately trying to suppress the satisfied smile that threatens to fight its way onto your face, said hobbit impolitely and without invitation enters your curtained area (again reminding you how very non-existent privacy is in this loft) and proudly shoves a fake ID into your face. You scowl at the intrusion and look at the ID. You would have bet money that the name on it would either be Liza or Barbra but, surprisingly enough, it spells Jodie Perkins and the Rachel Berry smiling at you from the picture looks a lot less innocent than the one standing in front of you with a thousand mega watt smile, obviously damn proud of both the ID and the reaction she provoked from you.
"I don't think that is going to be a problem, Santana. But thank you for the concern. I'm looking forward to hearing you sing. Quinn said you'll sing Melissa Etheridge. I have to admit that choice is a little surprising but I'm sure you'll do whichever song you choose justice."
You just stare at her and then to the shorts in your hands and back at her. You shake your head before glaring at the blonde on your bed. "I never said I'd sing a Melissa Etheridge song."
"I know you didn't. I did," she said with a smile that tells you that she knows she will win whether you'll actually put up a fight or not. "She'll sing it just for me Rachel, won't you Sanny?"
You debate whether putting up a fight is worth it or not and realize that, sadly enough, it's not. "Sure, whatever."
You are nervous. Really damn nervous and you're about 99% sure that Madison has noticed because she keeps giving you really strange and confused glances and at least three times it seemed like she was about to say something, just to decide against it and turn around to get busy.
The bar is slowly starting to get full when you see Quinn and Rachel enter and you stop breathing for just a second, not sure whether it's the fear of what might happen when Quinn somehow found out about you and Madison (or why the hell you even care) or the fact that Quinn looks hot in a way that you've definitely never seen before. Sure, the blonde is always sort of hot but usually she's hot in a sweet and innocent way. Tonight, however, she looks anything but innocent and the smirk she sends your way upon finding you at the bar isn't either.
They walk towards you and you smile at them wearily. Before they get there, however, Madison lays a hand on your lower back and leans into you. "Are you okay? You could just go home. Mel is here tonight anyway for a few drinks. I'm sure she wouldn't mind working either if you weren't feeling well."
You turn towards her and cringe. "I'm fine. Promise. Two friends of mine just got here, that's all."
Just then, Quinn and Rachel stop in front of the bar, both with big smiles on their faces. "Santana, this bar is so cool, seriously." You knew Rachel would get all hyped on being in a real bar for the first time. You just knew it. You role your eyes at her before turning towards Madison.
"Madison, this is Rachel, my roommate and this is Quinn, my, uhm, my best friend. She's the one I visited in New Haven last week."
"It's nice to meet you," Madison tells both of them with a smile.
Quinn stretches out her hand for Madison to take. When she does the former head cheerleader smiles at her warmly and you think that maybe – just maybe – the other shoe won't drop this time.
"I hear you're the one I have to thank for letting Santana tragically sit at my hospital bed. It was really kind of you to give her a day off on such short notice. Thank you." You're surprised at how genuine the blonde's words are.
"No worries. You're welcome."
And that's when it happens. As she withdraws her hand, you see Madison slowly seizing Quinn up and something in her eyes tells you she knows that Quinn is, at least in some way, not just your best friend. And, of course, someone like Quinn knows exactly what that look means.
This situation is like being stuck in between a rock and a hard place – maybe worse. You feel like, at the very same time, both Rachel and Quinn realize that you've fucked your boss and whereas the brunette just looks away in what you're sure is disappointment, the blonde simply glares at you. She looks angry, sure, but beneath that you know she's simply hurt and, even though there is absolutely no reason for you to, you feel guilty. You feel so very guilty.
You're saved when the bar gets fuller by the second and Madison excuses herself, but not before speaking up once more. "Get your friends something to drink and then get your sexy ass to work. This place is gonna be packed in less than fifteen minutes."
You smile at them awkwardly, tight lipped. "What can I get the two of you? It's on me." This can't get any more uncomfortable, that much is for sure.
"I'll take a Manhattan," Rachel tells you quietly. You know that, by now, she's probably struggling to figure out whose side to choose once this war starts and you're pretty sure you'll lose and you can't even blame her. You'd choose Quinn as well.
"I'll have a whiskey and coke, please." You're surprised and not surprised at the same time. You knew there were exactly two ways this could go. One, Quinn could just go ahead and ignore anything ever happened. Two, Quinn could go completely batshit crazy and shout at you for rejecting her to fuck someone else and not having the balls to tell her. You're still surprised she chose the first, though. And also sad. Not because you want her to yell at you. No, no one in their right mind would want to be yelled at by Quinn Fabray. You're sad because that most definitely means that Quinn thinks you chose someone over her and that will simply feed into the millions of insecurities that are already tattooed all over her body.
You stare after her, not quite sure what this means, what the outcome of this will be, but you're pretty damn sure it won't be pretty, not by far. When they refresh their drinks, you're busy serving some sleazy 40-something guy who can't take no for an answer and in the end you simply give in and end up having two shots with him. You only do it because he's a regular and the tips are amazing but you're pretty sure he thinks of himself as special.
You try not to look towards Quinn and Rachel too often, try not to notice how close they are while dancing and talking to each other.
Rachel, on more than one occasion, has assured you that she and Quinn are only friends but, even if from the brunette's point of view that was true, that doesn't mean that Quinn sees it that way as well.
Quinn's obsession over Berry in high school was ridiculous. You knew she was at least bi when she started with her doodles of Little Barbra and even drew hearts all around them. Also, pornographic pictures in the bathrooms? Really now? Kind of a big fat give away.
When a man approaches the two of them and Rachel gets rid of him by wrapping her arms around the blonde's neck, you lose it.
You down another two shots of vodka with the stupid regular and turn towards Madison: "Let's turn the heat up a little, shall we?" You give Sadie a small wave and she throws you a microphone. As you climb up onto the bar top, you look at the other girls once more: "Charlie, Madison, get your asses up here. I need some hot back-up." And with that you nod towards Sadie with a smirk on your face.
You catch Quinn's eyes right away when the first few notes of the song fill the room.
Tonight I feel so weak
But all in love is fair
I turn the other cheek
And I feel the slap and the sting of the foul night air
And I know you're only human
And I haven't got talking room
But tonight while I'm making excuses
Some other woman is making love to you*
You can't believe you're actually here, singing Mellisa Etheridge…again. You tell yourself that it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Quinn wanted you to and everything with the fact that that song is just absolutely badass…or something.
Somebody bring me some water
Can't you see I'm burning alive?
Can't you see my baby's got another lover?
I don't know how I'm gonna survive
Somebody bring me some water
Can't you see it's out of control?
Baby's got my heart and my baby's got my mind
But tonight the sweet Devil, the sweet Devil's got my soul*
You've always had a soft spot for that song but now, you feel like it was freeing and still, at the same time, it made you feel insecure. Insecure, because you know that Quinn just might think this was about Brittany and Sam and you just – no, it wasn't. If the girl thought she'd be happy with stupid, wanna-be-sweet Trouty Mouth instead of you – not that you actually truly offered her that option – that's her loss.
When will this aching pass?
When will this night be through?
I want to hear the breaking glass
I only feel the steel of the red hot truth
And I'd do anything to get it out of my mind
I need some insanity, that temporary kind
Tell me how will I ever be the same?
When I know that woman is whispering your name*
It pains you to watch Quinn and Rachel this close. You aren't ready to admit why but it does. There's just no way you can compete with what Rachel and Quinn have, with their past. Kind of like people thought no one could compete with what Brittany and you have – had.
Somebody bring me some water can't you see I'm burning alive
can't you see my baby's got another lover
and I don't know how I'm gonna survive
somebody bring me some water can't you see it's out of control
baby's got my heart and my baby's got my mind
but tonight the sweet devil sweet devil's got my soul*
Quinn shoots daggers at you – or maybe Madison – when the girl dances against you and, to be perfectly honest, that angry glare does a lot more to you than having your boss this close does. You can't really figure the blonde out. You just can't. You always thought you had everyone around you figured out but Quinn, Quinn is just so different.
In the end, you come to realize, that the only metaphor (and metaphors are important as Rachel keeps reminding you) that fits someone like Quinn – or only her, because there's no one like her – is fire.
To you, Quinn is like fire and not just because the blonde is very obviously extremely hot. No. Quinn manages to burn and scorch and terrify you one minute. But, next thing you know, you look into her eyes, the colors flickering and wavering somewhere between emerald green, amber and soft brown and you feel a sudden calm and warmth wash over you.
It's like sitting in front of a fire, with comfortable warmth surrounding your whole being, watching the yellows, oranges and reds melting into each other soothing you to the core, knowing all the while that something small could set the fire off and burn down everything around you.
Quinn's small laughs are like the crackles and sizzles of wood slowly burning away in the flames. She's also just as unpredictable as fire. When you least expect it, the calmness turns into an intimidating blaze, flaring up and burning down everything that dares to stand in the way. The triggers are often small and unidentified, but they're there.
Things are tense once you get back to the apartment (you asked Sadie to help Madison cleanup for once in favor of leaving with Rachel and Quinn and because you're absolutely drunk). The blonde doesn't really speak to you if not necessary and she definitely avoids looking at you at any cost. Rachel has noticed and thrown you more than one very uncomfortable glance, begging you to do something about the tension. You would love to, you just don't know how.
As she enters you room, she starts stripping off her clothes and getting some shorts and a Yale shirt out of her suitcase, her back turned towards you. You haven't gotten further than taking off your heels and shirt, too caught up in watching the blonde for any sign that she isn't taking this personally (even though you know she absolutely does).
When she turns around – now dressed for bed – you finally snap, not able to take her ignoring you any longer. You lunge at her and press your lips against hers and – God – does it feel good to finally feel those lips against yours again. If you weren't drunk already, this would be sure to make you feel intoxicated. You've been telling yourself for weeks to not get into this, to not go there with the blonde, not again. But, in the end, your want won the inner battle. You kiss her passionately, almost brutally, pressing against her intimately, holding her as close as possible, not willing to let a single inch separate you from her. It's different from the kisses you shared at the hotel room. Mostly because you felt the need to be careful with her back then even more than you do now. Now your only concern is her physical state but back then, you were almost 100% sure that, at some point, Quinn would realize what was happening, that the gay panic would set in and make her run, leaving you high and dry. But now, all you need is for her to feel exactly how much you've wanted this to happen again ever since Valentine's Day.
Strangely though, she doesn't give back half as much and you feel the desperate need to up your game. You walk her towards your bed, a tight grip on her hips, making sure to never let your bodies lose contact. You are just about to gently lay her down on it and take her, the way you've wanted to for weeks now, maybe even longer than that.
But then – all of a sudden – you feel her hands on your shoulders. She's pushing you back, putting space between you that you don't want to exist.
You look at her, completely confused, because you were quite sure she wanted this and now that you've finally given in, she actually seems offended.
You shake your head slightly when you see her chest rise and fall quickly, the palms of her hands still firmly laying on your shoulders, desperately trying to lift the haze from your brain that kissing Quinn left you in. You try to lean in again, still lost in your drunk world filled with nothing but the blonde, but she simply puts more pressure on your shoulders and all but shoves you out of her personal space.
"Santana, stop!" Now that sobers you up quite a bit.
"What the hell, Q? I thought that's what you wanted all along?"
"Not like this," she sighs out quietly in barely more than a whisper.
"Then what the fuck is it that you want?"
"You're drunk, S. Go to bed. I'll just sleep on the couch tonight."
"The hell you will. The couch is uncomfortable as fuck and bad for your back. Just," you struggle for a second, unsure what to tell her. "I don't know, forget the last few minutes of me humiliating myself and come to bed. Just see it like this: We're even now." You don't want to tell her that having her sleep next to you makes sleep come so much easier to you and makes you feel safer than you ever have and, most importantly, not as alone as you have been feeling ever since graduation. It would make you feel even more on the spot and vulnerable than you already do as it is.
"I will not share a bed with you tonight, Santana. And you must be out of your mind, if you thought that what I wanted was to be all but molested while you're as drunk as a sailor. I'll just ask Rachel to share with me. Good night, Santana."
"NO!" You all but yell at her but you don't care. You also don't care one bit if Rachel or even Kurt can hear you. It's not like you've had any privacy since you've moved in with them anyway. But Quinn sharing a bed with Berry? That is just not an option. "I'll take the couch. You can sleep in my bed." And with that, you walk past her dejectedly, leaving your curtained off area to take your spot on the couch for the night.
You're not sure if you've ever felt quite this alone. Maybe when Brittany was with Wheels and not willing to cheat on him. Then again, you made sure she would very soon. Maybe when you were in Louisville. Then again, you were pretty sure that Brittany and you wouldn't last as soon as she told you she wasn't graduating. You simply didn't want to know. It was easier to try and fool yourself – and Brittany of course, because breaking up with her is heartbreaking, not just because you loved her more than you were able to express – into thinking you and her were forever and a little distance wouldn't be able to harm your relationship in any way. But somewhere inside of you, deep down, you knew and you started rebuilding your walls and prepared yourself for the inevitable heartbreak.
But now? Now you're simply alone and you stupidly left yourself utterly defenseless, unprotected. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. You didn't prepare yourself for it, didn't think it through. You simply let go, gave into your desire without, for a second, stopping to think of the rather huge possibility of her rejecting you. After Brittany had rejected you in the middle of your high school's hallway, you swore that you'd never open yourself up to be so defenseless ever again. And yet, here you are, alone and rejected, again. You wonder if Quinn felt like that when you did the same to her.
"I can't go back to yesterday because I was a different person then."
– Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland –
*Melissa Etheridge - Bring Me Some Water
Update! I'm well aware that this took a while but my computer problem is still very far from solved (had to get the police involved, too) and there have been a lot of hiccups in my private life in the past few weeks. I won't continue apologizing, though. I think every one who writes knows that sometimes, whether we want it or not, life simply gets in the way.
I hope you liked the chapter. I'm very happy to read your comments. Thank you for the continued support on this story. It really does mean a lot to me!