A/N: I don't own the song Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis. Also, finally got back on track with where I'm going with this story. Looking forward to the next chapter, too.

What would her parents be thinking of her now? Santana asked the ceiling of Brittany's room. What would they say if they knew where she was at that moment? Who she was with? Whose breast she had laid her head on, whose legs she had tangled with hers? Whose arms were wrapped tightly around her shoulders, whose stomach was rising slow and steady against her chest and arm, whose breath was warm and soft against her forehead?

Unwilling to move to brush a bang from the edge of her eye, Santana blinked furiously, trying to tell herself it was because of that and not the tears trailing down her cheeks. Rachel's stomach gurgled, and another sob welled up in Santana's chest.

Fuck.

She hurt.

A soft sigh blew cold against her tears, and Santana bit down on her lower lip so she didn't shiver, feeling her left hand spasm anyway.

She wanted to be mad at Rachel for falling asleep. Wanted to be mad at her for not knowing Santana was crying, for not pulling her even closer and lying to her, not telling her they weren't doomed.

Rachel's body felt solid under her, warm and frightening, something needed to be clutched to Santana's chest to be never let go. How could Santana bear her leaving again? If not for forever, she shuddered, more tears spilling out of her eyes, but for when the bubble burst and someone came to pull her back out of the room and back home.

Santana didn't want her cousin to go. Fuck no, she didn't. It felt like if she did Santana wouldn't stop bleeding.

You cut me open and I keep bleeding… Keep, keep bleeding love…

That had been their song.

But I don't care what they say; I'm in love with you. They try to pull me away, but they don't know the truth.

Starting to mouth the words she'd sung millions of times, Santana turned her head to press her lips against her cousin's arm; even though she knew it was ridiculous to think she'd feel it, it somehow made Santana feel better.

Maybe she just needed the extra contact. Maybe it would make the pain flowing through her body disappear for one single damn fucking moment.

And what the hell kind of pain was it? Physical, because of her hand finally yelling at her for fucking it up with the cold and the exertion of using it far more than she should have? Mental, because of the total mind fuck she'd been in for not even a fucking week? Emotional? Because of being so completely in love it rendered her powerless in the face of not being in love?

Not being in love… What did that even feel like? Had she ever felt that? Had she never been in love with Rachel?

No.

There'd been her cousin for so long that she didn't think she could even say she'd never loved her.

No matter how many times or how hard she had told herself she didn't love her anymore.

Love… What had decided she and Rachel would have to go through this?

Someone's sick idea of a joke? God's sick idea of a joke?

Santana had believed in God, back when she was little and knew nothing more than being her parents' daughter and siblings' sister and uncles' niece and Rachel's Santana. But after everything that had happened…

She didn't know what to think anymore.

A soft rap on the door made her tense, heart beating loud in her chest. When it came again, she swallowed to try to get saliva back into her mouth, taking a deep breath. Craning her head up, she husked, "Yeah?"

"It's me," Quinn's soft voice came through the door, "Can I come in?"

"Just a minute, Q." Sighing, Santana put her head back down onto Rachel's chest; she hadn't woken up, and Santana was still caught in her embrace. Though she felt like she could be mad at Quinn for interrupting them, she wasn't. Not really. At least she'd distract her mind.

Pulling her casted hand up to wipe her eyes with her bicep as best as she could, Santana snuffled, then dropped her head to kiss Rachel's chin. "Hey, Rache," she whispered, sliding her palm along her arm, "I need to get up."

Rachel mumbled something, her arms tightening around Santana's shoulders.

Santana's heart squeezed. "Rache," she smiled, "C'mon. I gots to get up."

"Mmm… I told you to stop talking like that," Rachel mumbled again, gasping when Santana swooped down to kiss her. Cuz', you know, she could. And maybe she needed it. The contact, the reaffirmation.

The pure pleasure of Rachel's mouth under hers.

She may have been feeling a little better after her emotional breakdown, but that didn't mean she didn't still want something good. And with Quinn coming in soon, busting their bubble, she'd take all the good she could.

Rachel's lips were so soft. Opening and moving under hers, her hands sliding up and down Santana's back as she pushed up into her, pulling Santana down onto her. "You're still here," she whispered, a hand tugging at Santana's hair.

Heat and pure sensation spiraled straight to Santana's middle, bursting out to run along her skin. "Right, right," she promised, pressing herself closer, "I'm here."

She was, and she didn't want to leave. Ever leave.

…But Quinn was at the door, wasn't she?

Slowly pulling herself back, feeling swollen lips still searching for hers, feeling the heat of her cousin's body still being so intoxicating, and having to fight off the fear that once this embrace ended, everything would end, Santana smiled down at Rachel, brushing her fingers along her cheek. She sighed, willing her body to unwind as she began to try and ease the panic and energy to flow from her body. "It's just Q," she dipped her head, "You all good?"

Sitting up as well, Rachel straightened her shirt, then reached out and straightened Santana's.

Watching her, Santana swallowed. This… Was so normal.

"If we must," Rachel gave her a small smile, pushing herself up to her feet. Pausing, and bending down to press a slow, loving kiss to Santana's cheek, she took a seat on the end of the bed behind her. The compressing of the bed springs under her flared the awareness in Santana's body, and she had to curl her good hand into a fist to stop herself from doing something incredibly, incredibly, fucking incredibly stupid.

No. Now was not the time.

They needed to rebuild their relationship first anyway.

…Right?

…Right.

And now was certainly not the time to be having those thoughts. No. Now was Quinn Fabray time.

Standing up, Santana stretched, shaking her hair out. Her muscles weren't very happy, but fuck, she'd do everything over again, pain be damned. She'd gotten to hold Rachel. She'd been held by Rachel. She'd had Rachel. After almost three years, that was all that mattered. All that she was going to make matter.

So, yup. As long as Quinn wasn't too nosey, she'd be okay. Her heartbeat would slow down, the heat simmering in her body would go away, and Santana could deal.

Taking Brittany's desk chair for her own seat, Santana affixed her token noncommittal expression and raised her voice, "Kay, Q, go for it."

The door swung open, "About time," and the look of relief on Quinn's face as she slipped inside was surprising. "Good, you're both in here," she offered, giving Rachel a small smile before closing the door and walking over to take a seat on the bed, being nice to choose the side of Santana Rachel was already on so she wouldn't have to split her attention back and forth, "B was freaking out that the yetis had gotten you or something." Her expression clearly indicated what she thought about that.

Rachel shyly smiled, using one hand to push hair behind her ear. "No, no yetis. We just had some… Things… To talk about."

"In the middle of a snowstorm? S, are you trying to freeze to death?"

Santana shrugged. "I survived din't I?"

"Yeah, like that's a response." Sighing, Quinn absently put a hand to her stomach. That seemed to spark something in her memory, and she looked up. "Oh, B also wanted to make sure you guys had gotten enough to eat. She's getting tired guarding pizza and your whiskey," she said pointedly at Santana, "Because the guys brought DDR and she really wants to play."

Ignoring the poke at her alcohol intake, Santana raised her eyebrows. "They're still here? Damn, what time is it?"

"A little after twelve, apparently," Rachel answered, looking at the clock on the bedside table. "Good thing I told my dads I had been invited to a glee initiation sleepover, huh?" She gave both Santana and Quinn a fleeting smile.

Oh great. Remind Santana of her quitting glee. Again, great. Fucking great. No, wait, remind Quinn of Santana quitting glee. Santana sent her a glare before she could bring it up, and Quinn rolled her eyes. "Rachel," she started, turning her head to look at her, smiling slightly, "Seeing as you never got to have an audition, why don't you come downstairs and take a turn on the karaoke machine Kurt brought?" When Rachel hesitated, eyes flicking towards Santana, Quinn shook her head, "Don't worry, everyone else's too drunk to care about what happened earlier."

So Rachel hadn't auditioned yet? And, oh god, what would Rachel's voice sound like now? After more years of study? Maturing of her voice?

"Oh. Okay. No, that sounds great, actually." Looking a bit more confidant, Rachel smiled. "'Tana?" she turned her smile onto Santana, looking eager and excited and so so so damn adorable, "Want to join the others now?"

That meant Santana would be able to hear Rachel singing for the first time in almost three years at the same time the gleeks heard her for the first time. If she didn't get a private show first, at least she could share the glory. She could handle that. Yes. "Well," Santana shrugged, giving a what she couldn't stop from being a somewhat sad, affectionately teasing smile to her cousin, "If you don't mind that I don't have any sugar stars for you."