Note: This is an additional scene (there are a few) for the Quinntana Week 2013 submission I wrote called "Making the List." Geek!Quinn and Popular!Santana - and Game of Thrones ridiculousness.
"Hey!" Santana called, hurrying to catch up with Quinn.
Turning in surprise, Quinn's brow furrowed when she saw the other girl rushing up to meet her. "Uh, hey," she said in confusion. "Did you need something?"
"Do I have to need something in order to talk to you? If so," Santana teased, "I suppose I can come up with something."
Quinn pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at the other girl. She was pretty sure that their encounter the other day had been swept under the rug - bygones or something. She didn't actually think Santana was serious about the whole date and prom and prom date thing.
She spent a lot of time thinking. That's just who Quinn was. If she wasn't thinking about something she'd read, then she was thinking about something she'd seen. Or thinking about crossing-over something she'd read with something she'd seen. It didn't matter. Her mind was always turning things over. So much so that sometimes it kept her up.
Only the night following their talk, Quinn wasn't kept from sleep because her mind was preoccupied with getting Toothless into Daenerys's dragon court. And it wasn't the task of choosing her favorite Doctor, either. (That had kept her up many nights and, on more than one occasion, she found herself reviewing her tumblr and tallying up the number of reblogs each Doctor had).
Quinn kept rolling their conversation around in her mind and looking for loopholes - for anything that would give away some hint that it had never happened. Because things like Santana Lopez asking out Quinn Fabray just didn't happen. For hours she mulled it over - what was it that Santana believed she saw in her behind her floppy, short hair and glasses?
"So, maybe we should hang out or something sometime," Santana suggested conversationally.
"Why would we do that?" Quinn asked suspiciously.
"I know you're not familiar with our strange earth customs, but it's what people do." Santana smirked and raised her brows. "I'm not sure what folks do on your planet or whatever, but here - civilized people talk and hang out and, like, get to know each other."
"Allow me to rephrase," Quinn replied. "Why would we want to do that?"
"C'mon, Q," Santana urged. "I thought we were past this whole thing with you thinking I didn't really ask you to prom."
"You didn't."
Santana sighed. "It was implied. So stop running Quinnterference for a second and just, like, relax and let this happen."
"Quinnter-what?"
"It's a thing you do," Santana started to explain before she felt an arm rest around her shoulders.
"Hello ladies," Blaine said before giving Quinn his full attention. "So, the true Baratheon is prepping for dragons ..."
"Prep all you want, you have nothing in your armory that can defeat Targaryen dragons," Quinn replied. "One word and your army will be annihilated." She stepped closer, her eyes boring dangerously into Blaine's. "And you know it."
Santana inhaled deeply at the fire she saw in Quinn's eyes. She couldn't deny that there was a part of her that wanted to make Blaine continue to say whatever geek-speak he was going on about. There was something about that spark in Quinn's eye that stuck a fire in her belly.
"And what about Melisandre?"
"She'll burn, too." Quinn raised her her hand. "And you know the rules, Blaine. Anything said in the halls doesn't count. The field is where we make our demands and where," she raised her brows, "some will fall for failing to remember their shortcomings."
Santana smirked. "Please tell me I'm allowed to interrupt Nerd News Tonight for a few well-timed short jokes."
Blaine huffed in disappointment. "Sometimes it sucks having your best friend double as a mod."
"First of all," Quinn began, "I didn't ask to be the mod - just happened to be that way. And it we're going to have rules, then we need to stick by them. Can you imagine if Karofsky came barreling at you in the hallway every time he wanted to challenge you?"
Frowning, Blaine muttered, "Stupid Hound."
"So, uh," Santana started as she wrinkled her nose. She pushed her friend's hand from her shoulder. "Is mod like, Mother of Dragons or something?" she asked.
Blaine chuckled under his breath as Quinn stepped back in disguise. "No," he corrected her. "Mod is moderator. Though, I guess I can see how you got the other."
Quinn tilted her head and studied Santana, asking curiously. "And what do you know about the mother of dragons?"
"Not much," Santana admitted. "Saw her topless once. That was pretty awesome."
