Note: Here, have another scene from "Making the List." I'm pretty sure at one time I was going to make a multi-chapter out of this. Obviously, that didn't happen.
Quinn squinted as she watched the other struggling to open her locker. Usually Santana came across as very capable - on top of things - but today, she seemed a bit off. She watched as, for the third time, the other girl failed to open her locker with her combination and sighed. By the time Quinn crossed the hallway, Santana's forehead was resting on the locker.
"I doubt it can read your mind," she joked. "Even if you press it up against the door like that."
Leaving her forehead on the door, Santana twisted her head and looked at the other girl in confusion.
"Here," Quinn said, pushing Santana's shoulder. "Let me try it. What's your combination?"
"25 - 12 - 40, I think."
"You think? You've had the same locker for over three years." Quinn shook her head and tried the combination. When it didn't work, she tried mixing up the numbers and, eventually, figured out that it was 20, not 25 and 45, not 40.
"You're awesome," Santana said with a soft smile. "If I wasn't so tired, I'd probably kiss you."
Quinn's choked on - well, she wasn't really sure but she thought it might have been the air she was attempting to inhale. "I just opened a locker. No big. And," she said once she'd recovered, "if you weren't so tired, you'd have been able to do it yourself."
"I really am SO tired," the other girl admitted as she shoved her entire book bag into the locker. "At first it was like, I'll just watch a couple of episodes, y'know? See what all the hub bub is about, right? Then you're telling yourself, it's only another fifty-seven minutes - you can watch another. Before you know it, the entire season is over and you're about to be late for school."
She closed her locker and turned to lean on it. "And I think I left my bag at home," she added before mumbling under her breath, "Friggin' Game of Thrones."
Quinn's brows furrowed. "One, it's not the show's fault you didn't get sleep and two," she paused and pointed to Santana's locker, "I'm pretty sure you just put your bag in there."
Santana looked the other girl up and down and then smirked. "Didn't know you were paying such close attention to me," she teased.
"Someone had to save you from a forehead-door meld," Quinn replied. "And I thought you didn't like Game of Thrones."
Santana shook her head. "I didn't say I didn't like it. I just said I didn't know what it was. Had someone told me there would be a bunch of naked girls AND dragons, I woulda been on board much sooner."
"It's more than just naked girls and dragons, Santana."
"Says the girl who role plays as the dragon girl." Santana's brow jumped. She couldn't keep her eyes from skirting down to Quinn's chest.
"Never topless," Quinn informed her.
"No one's perfect, I suppose," Santana said as she pushed off her locker. "You're hotter than the girl on the show, though. I mean, she's cute and all but she looks like she's twelve, y'know? Except I've see her topless, so maybe she's a little older, I don't know how they grow 'em in England."
"Stop talking, please."
"What? Why?" Santana pouted cutely. "We're having a conversation about that show you really like."
"Actually," Quinn corrected her, seemingly unfazed by the way the other girl's lip stuck out adorably. "You're having a conversation with yourself about seeing an actress topless. I just happen to be standing here and the actress just happens to play my favorite character on one of my favorite shows."
"Well, if we're not gonna to talk about it, then why'd I spend all that time watching it?" Santana frowned, her nose crinkling. "I mean, yes, okay, it's a good show. But, damn, I woulda paced myself or something. You do realize that I watched nearly ten hours of that show practically in one sitting."
Quinn tilted her head and let out a sigh. "You don't have to watch a show because I watch it. And you certainly don't have to do it in one day-"
"- but I wanted to. You keep saying that we don't have anything in common, right? That I don't know you or know what you like or whatever. So," Santana shrugged sheepishly. "Never let it be said that I don't try, Q."
