A long time passed while Quinn lay snuggled up against Santana, both of them silent and content with just enjoying the stillness of the afternoon after the noisy and chaotic events of the day. Santana traced circles on Quinn's stomach absentmindedly, leaning comfortably against the edge of the sofa. "Should we get up and go for training?" She asked softly, well aware that they were already thirty minutes late.
"No," Quinn said. "If you're going to touch me, at least do it properly," she murmured, smirking slightly as Santana's hand paused over her belly button, as though aware for the first time that it was in direct contact with smooth skin.
"Sorry," Santana laughed, taking her hand away.
"Don't play dumb, Lopez," Quinn grinned. "You know what I mean."
"I don't," Santana purred. "What do you mean?"
Quinn leaned in and whispered something into the other woman's ear. Santana guffawed, feeling the familiar sensation of blood pooling between her legs. They were both aroused, but comfortably so, as though both knew that they had all afternoon – and perhaps many more afternoons after this one – in each other's arms. Santana smiled lovingly at this wondrous woman in front of her and marveled, not for the first time in her life, how she had gotten so damn lucky.
...
The next day, they were greeted by a crowd of photographers and journalists at the entrance of the training premises. "Jesus Christ, people," Santana said, scowling. "Don't you have better things to do? Something about gentrification or janitor unions or Obama's new healthcare reforms?"
This got everyone shouting at once. A small, wiry reporter who fancied himself rather witty yelled, "Or maybe same-sex marriage!" He shoved a microphone at Santana. "So! Tell us about your relationship!" The other reporters, not to be outcompeted, clamored to stick their own microphones at the two of them, rattling off a list of other equally obnoxious questions. "What made you switch to women? When did you know you were in love? What do your parents think about-"
"Piss off," Santana growled. She stepped forward protectively to shield Quinn from the glare of many cameras going off at once, shoving a microphone away as she did so. Quinn smiled and took a step forward as well, casually slipping her hand into Santana's. They barged through the line of people together, unapologetically elbowing reporters aside on their way in.
"Goddamn it," Santana cursed, as they finally reached the relative safety of the pitch. "I hope your dad makes himself useful and murders them for us." Quinn laughs.
"Eh, here come the lovebirds," Vivian says, jogging over from the sidelines with Laurie. She punches Quinn on the forearm. "You're alive," She says. "Anyone give you any trouble?"
Quinn shakes her head, grinning. "Bloody reporters nearly stampeded us outside. You'd think they never heard of teammates dating before, the way they carry on like this."
Vivian nudged Santana. "Dating."
Santana nudged her back, grinning. "Dating," She agreed.
Laurie rolls her eyes. "To think y'all started off hating each other," She scoffs. The rest of the team spots them there and runs over, thumping Santana and Quinn on their backs heartily. Yolanda leaps on top of Quinn to muffled cries of, "Oi, get off her, that's Santana's job!"
Coach Johnson bustles over and sends the rest of the team packing with a brusque, "warm ups" before turning her attention to the two of them. "I don't care what the hell is going on between you two – unless you're in labor or dying, I expect you to be here on the pitch at three on the dot." She glared at the both of them sternly. Despite their best efforts, neither Santana nor Quinn succeeded in summoning an appropriate level of remorse for the occasion, which probably had something to do with the memory of what they'd done on the couch instead of going to training. Coach must've guessed what was going through their minds, because she wrinkles her nose and snaps, "Ugh, spare me the gory details."
"We didn't say anything," Santana protested.
"You're thinking too loudly," Coach Johnson says grumpily, although her lips twitch involuntarily as though she's trying and failing to keep the smile off her face. "Don't you dare try anything funny, you hear me? I never want a repeat of those few months – everything between you stays off the pitch." She paused, then changed her mind. "Actually, the good chemistry thing can stay. But nothing else!"
Quinn and Santana nod obediently.
"And stop being so fucking cute," Coach Johnson snapped. "I look at the two of you and bile comes up my throat."
Quinn and Santana exchanged glances, then burst out laughing. "You're just jealous," Santana said brazenly.
"You're getting far too cocky for my liking, Lopez," Coach Johnson flicked her gaze to Quinn, a smile playing on her lips. "For goodness sake, Fabray – keep her in check or I will."
Quinn shoots Santana a mischievous look. "No problem, coach," She says sweetly.
Santana tingles. Tonight was going to be...interesting. And tomorrow night, and all the nights after. Thinking about the future ahead, with Quinn, Santana can't help but feel a shiver of excitement go down her spine. She grins and raises an eyebrow at her girlfriend. "I wouldn't be so sure about that, Fabray."
...
A/N: So that's the end of this story, and it's been an absolutely amazing journey for me - thank you guys so much for reading it and leaving comments and following etc. because every single alert really means the world to me and I couldn't have gotten through this without your support :) I'm toying with the idea of writing a sequel or maybe some one-shots; if you have anything you want me to write about, any ideas or prompts etc. please share them with me, they'll be really helpful :) I have a very newly created tumblr account so if you wanna follow me there, my username is allieebobo. I'd also love to have overall comments for the story, what you thought about it, what you liked or wish I'd done better and stuff like that :) Thanks again for reading :)))