Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and all of the typos/grammatical errors. The views and opinions expressed in this story are not personal.

Warning: Explicit sexual scene within the chapter.


Chapter 12: We're Really Doing This

"Quinn?"

"Santana, hey," the blonde said, dropping the piece of bacon she'd just taken a small bite of. She wiped her hands on the napkin in front of her as she stood up. Before Santana could even process it, Quinn had her wrapped in a warm hug. She slowly brought her arms up to the hold the blonde.

Quinn pulled back a little, giving Santana a smirk before turning her head to look at Rachel.

"She looks surprised. Why is she surprised?"

"I might've kept your plans to visit to myself after we got home last night," Rachel said with a shrug.

Santana spared a playful glare at Rachel as she pulled Quinn back against her body in a tight hug.

"Did you miss me?" the news anchor asked, sounding unsure despite how desperately her friend was holding her.

Santana didn't answer, but merely held the woman, still processing the fact that she was here. Her body was warm and familiar. The smell of her shampoo lingering in her hair made Santana's chest feel tight. Relief was stirring in her chest.

"Honestly, I didn't think I'd see you again," she admitted, loosening her arms to let Quinn step away.

The blonde seemed to think on that for a moment, her expression growing sad. But then she just shrugged, her hazel eyes holding her own.

"Fair," she said, reaching out to let her fingers glide down Santana's arm so she could then hold her hand. "I did think about it. Just… cutting things off. But… I figured it was better to just work things out with Rachel. I just need a little more time."

Santana squeezed Quinn's fingers gently, her heart suddenly pounding in her ears.

"I'm glad you didn't just cut me out of your life," Santana admitted and Quinn blushed at her honesty.

"Wow," Rachel suddenly drawled. "As much as I love to view this sappy reunion that I acted as architect for, I really can't focus on reviewing this contract with the sound of you two whispering sweet nothings to each other increasing in intensity as background noise. Quinn, may we return to the task at hand?"

"Contract?" Santana tensed, stepping back out of Quinn's space and pulling her hand away. "Are you fucking serious, Q? A contract? Another NDA?"

"Santana," Quinn started, but the brunette just shook her head, a wry smile of disbelief twisting her features.

"Jesus fucking Christ," she said, stalking over to where Rachel sat, offering her hand palm up to her as if to demand the phone. Rachel merely ignored her, continuing to scroll through the text on the screen.

"Don't use the Lord's name in vain, Santana," Quinn griped, rolling her eyes at her irritation.

"Don't tell me what language I can and cannot use in my own god-damned house!"

Quinn flinched at the outburst and Rachel looked up at Santana, eyes wide with surprise.

"Santana…" her best friend trailed off, shocked. "It's ok. I don't want to be a barrier to your… friendship."

Santana looked at the two of them in rapid succession and then left the kitchen, heading upstairs and away from her friends. She retreated to her room and spent 15 minutes desperately trying to calm herself down. She didn't know why she was so angry. Perhaps it was the idea of saddling Rachel with a secret of this magnitude—of dragging her into yet another position where she'd have to worry about something that she'd be better off not assuming responsibility of.

It wasn't for another half hour before anyone came to seek her out. A timid knock on her bedroom door pulled her out of her quiet contemplation.

"Come in," she called out, expecting Rachel. However, it was Quinn who pushed through the door.

The blonde didn't hesitate moving forward, leaving the door ajar. She pulled off her shirt, and then her pants, dropping them by the door.

Why was she undressing?

"What are you doing?" Santana asked, her pulse suddenly racing in her ears at the sight of Quinn in her casual, cotton underwear and bra. Very different from the lingerie she'd seen the previous times she'd seen Quinn in a state of undress. Even so, the sight of the woman's soft skin and gentle curves made Santana's mouth feel dry. She pulled herself into a better sitting position, to give the blonde all of her attention. She swallowed hard.

Perhaps all the moisture in her body was attempting to concentrate itself elsewhere.

Quinn just smiled at her before making a beeline for the closet. A few moments later she exited holding a t-shirt and one of Santana's sleep pants.

"I'm not bringing my travel clothes into your bed. I know you're a borderline germaphobe," she replied lightly as she pulled the shirt over her head and down her body, covering up her beautiful breasts and smooth, slim stomach.

"Oh," Santana breathed, still sitting ramrod straight in bed, watching her get dressed. "Thanks," she muttered as Quinn finally covered up her long, creamy legs.

"What? No complaints about me teasing you?"

"No," Santana mumbled, finally allowing herself to relax. She wasn't trying to get herself emotionally riled up or agitated again. It had taken too long to calm down, so she didn't feel like engaging in banter.

Quinn gave her an odd look but merely sighed and climbed atop the bed to sit next to Santana.

The brunette turned and looked at her, staring unabashedly. Really, Quinn looked the same to her. Achingly beautiful and downright stoic. She let herself look at Quinn's lips—pink and soft—inviting. She let her eyes trace her smooth jawline, then dip down her neck to her collarbones. Then back up to her lips. Then finally her eyes, one of which was now beneath an upward tilting eyebrow. Quinn dropped her eyebrow, her lips pulling into a smile.

"You done checking me out, Lopez?"

"Never," Santana responded almost immediately, causing a blush to rise prominently on Quinn's cheeks. Santana gave her a smug smile and Quinn just rolled her eyes.

"Can we talk?"

Santana nodded, looking a little tense again and Quinn's expression grew sad in reaction. She reached forward and held Santana's hand in hopes of offering support.

She knew Santana was going through some changes in her life—transitioning to a new job. Trying to find a new rhythm with her parents away. Working hard to maintain a friendship with a woman who'd rejected her affections not too long ago. Quinn would always feel guilty about that. And while it was somewhat easier to pretend that everything was ok between them when they were communicating via phone calls and texts, she couldn't help but see how sad Santana seemed now.

"Why is it, when you get mad, you just shut down on me?"

Santana was… surprised. She was not expecting that question. She pulled her hand away from Quinn's, opting instead to gently grab a section of the bedspread.

"No questions about Rachel? Or my surgery? Just… that?"

"I want to talk about that other stuff, I do! I just… I've noticed you do this thing where, you'll push back a little. But then, when you start getting really upset you just shut down. You don't respond. You pull away. It's like you flip an emergency shut-down switch… I asked Rachel about it, and she said that I should just talk to you. So here I am. Talking to you."

Santana didn't respond, but instead mentally went over all of the times she'd argued with Quinn. Which… was a lot. Most recently just several minutes ago. But previously on the phone, during which she just hung up. Or the last time they'd seen each other… when she asked Quinn to go.

Part of her wanted to say it was because she felt defeated—sad after they argued. But she knew that wasn't the truth. Her therapist knew that wasn't the truth. Rachel knew that wasn't the truth.

And the truth, well… she didn't want to discuss that right now. She knew she had to, soon. But it was Holly she had planned to talk to, not Quinn.

"It doesn't matter," Santana finally decided to respond.

"Ok, but it does," Quinn retorted. "One of my favorite things about you is that you challenge me. You challenge me to be better—to do better. And when we argue you… you are so passionate, and intelligent. It never fails to turn me on."

At this admission she could not only sense, but see Santana tensing up. The brunette turned to look at her, a hint of irritation between her eyebrows and around her eyes.

"I think it's highly inappropriate for you to be sitting in my bed, talking about getting turned on, when you have a boyfriend at home. I cannot believe we are having this conversation again. Do you have fucking brain damage? What is your problem?!"

Quinn laughed. She couldn't help it. The distress on Santana's face… in her posture. In her voice.

"San, relax. Sam and I aren't dating anymore."

Her smile merely widened as Santana's face grew slack, confusion settling in.

"Wait what?"

"Sam and I aren't together anymore."

"Wha—? I mean, what happened? He was answering your phone, like, yesterday."

"Well, yeah. We're still friends." A fact that Quinn was beyond relieved was true.

"I'm really confused."

"Clearly," Quinn smirked. "But, can we both agree that it is not 'highly inappropriate' for me to be sitting in your bed, talking about getting turned on?"

Santana merely cleared her throat, turning a little to face Quinn.

"What happened? Did he do something?"

Quinn shook her head. "No, he didn't do anything. And I think we both know that when that relationship was going to implode, it was going to be because of me. I was the one destined to do something."

"You're selling yourself short," Santana mumbled, still clearly mystified by this information.

"I'm not, but I appreciate your support."

"You're avoiding the question."

"I am."

"Do you not want to talk about it? Did you cheat on him or something?"

"Or something…"

Santana just stared at Quinn, waiting. "You're not going to tell me anything?" she finally asked.

"Ok, well, I can at least tell you when we broke up."

"That would be nice."

"Do you remember when I went to LA, to reconnect with my old friend?"

"Yeah."

Quinn looked down at her nails, pretending to inspect them just to see if she could rile Santana up.

"Quinn," Santana pressed, growing impatient with Quinn's stalling.

"Fine, it was the day after that. When I got back to New York."

"What? Did you fuck someone in LA? What the hell happened?"

"Why do you sound so disappointed?"

"I mean, you were happy, right? With Sam. He's a good guy. I liked him well enough."

"He is," Quinn agreed, surprised by Santana's response. It was almost as if she didn't want Quinn to be single and available to her. "I thought you'd be happy."

"I don't know what I am right now."

Well, that response made Quinn uncomfortable.

"I didn't cheat on him," she finally said with a frown, staring hard at Santana, disappointed. "I… well, I thought maybe you'd be happy I was single again. So we could…"

"So we could, what, Quinn?"

"We could try being together."

Santana frowned. Frowned. And Quinn felt her heart breaking a little. She was not expecting this response. But maybe something had changed for the brunette. Maybe she'd moved on—maybe there was someone new. She hadn't considered that. And Santana never talked about dating, but perhaps she was dating someone now.

"Why tell me now? It's been a couple months since you went to LA. This whole time I thought you were still with Sam. Hell, I thought y'all had gotten pregnant, remember?"

Quinn bit back her gut reaction of smiling at Santana's very southern "y'all" and focused on figuring out what was going wrong.

"Well, I couldn't think of the right time to bring it up. But I knew I wanted to do so in person. And I'm here now, so why not? Plus, it's not like you were asking questions either. You hardly ever ask about Sam and me."

Santana squinted her dark brown eyes at her, searching for something. Quinn wasn't sure what.

"You want to try being together, but you also want my best friend to sign an NDA?"

Quinn let loose an exasperated sigh. "And we're back to the NDA."

"Yeah, we're back to it. Because I've been lying to my best friend for over a year. And now, without even discussing it with me, you've given her an NDA to sign."

"I didn't give her an NDA to sign. I gave her a digital draft to review. So we could have a blueprint of the level of privacy I'd appreciate if you and I were to be in a relationship."

"Mighty bold of you to assume I want a relationship with you, Quinn," Santana hissed, leaning forward to emphasize her words. "You think I've been sitting here, waiting around for you? That's fucked up."

"I'm not assuming anything, Santana. I'm hoping. I'm ready now. For us. And I hope you still have a little corner of your heart that's saved for me."

Santana didn't reply, but just stared at Quinn. Her expression was guarded. Quinn realized, suddenly, that when she left Santana behind in this very house just a few months ago, that she had seriously hurt her. Had likely broken her heart. They hadn't talked about it, and they probably should have. Santana had apologized and Quinn had merely accepted it, told her it was no big deal and promised their friendship would remain. But it had been a big deal.

"I'm sorry I wasn't ready earlier, Santana," Quinn admitted, scooting closer to the skeptical woman.

Santana merely continued to look at Quinn. When Quinn leaned forward, pressing into her space, Santana's breath audibly hitched in her throat but she didn't move away. It was as if she were challenging her to take what she wanted. To make the first move. To put herself out there. The blonde leaned all the way forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Santana's cheek, pulling back just enough so that she could place her hand on Santana's neck and drag her thumb against her jaw. Santana initially flinched at the contact, likely due to the cool temperature of Quinn's fingers—but soon enough, she was leaning into her hand, eyes closed, lips slightly parted.

When Quinn pushed forward again, her lips touched Santana's.

Quinn was suddenly overcome with emotion. She'd been denying herself for too long. She'd been denying what she really wanted, and now… well, she had it. She could have it. She could have Santana.

Her mouth was warm and soft, and the kiss was gentle. Not rushed at all. Santana kissed her languidly, and when her tongue dipped into Quinn's mouth the blonde felt heat rush to the space between her legs. Santana's hands had found her waist, one was rubbing up and down her ribs, warmly. Quinn felt emboldened to place her hand on Santana's chest, running her free hand against her breast, cupping it and thanking God that Santana was not wearing a bra. She felt a hard nipple through the fabric of her shirt.

"Mmm, wait, wait," Santana pulled away, breathless. "You left the door open."

"I did," Quinn nodded, trailing kisses along Santana's jaw, pressing her down against the pillows. She expertly swept her long blonde hair over her shoulder to keep it out of their faces.

"Ok, and Rachel is here," Santana mumbled, mind running blank as Quinn kissed and suckled at her neck. Quinn paused for a moment, but then she continued.

"I'll be quick," she said confidently, sliding beside Santana's body. "Lie on your side."

The brunette complied without hesitation, allowing Quinn to push on her hip and turn her to face the door. Quinn pulled herself against Santana's back, kissing her shoulder and slipping her hand down the front of Santana's sleep shorts.

"Oh God," Santana groaned as Quinn's cold hand slipped into her hot underwear. "Why are your hands so cold?"

"You refused to hold them earlier. Next time don't make the same mistake," she whispered against the skin of her neck.

Santana looked like she was going to respond, but her eyelids fluttered shut and the words died in her throat as Quinn's fingers made contact with her clit, sweeping past it to slide into the hot heat waiting for her. The blonde couldn't believe how wet Santana was for her, and she suddenly couldn't ignore her own arousal. She flung a leg over Santana's and pressed her hips forward, hoping to use Santana's ass to create as much friction against her clit as possible. Soon she was moaning filthily, directly into Santana's ear.

And while the brunette was keeping silent throughout the engagement, her breathing was ragged and heavy, and the sound of the bed rocking due to Quinn's thrusting was erotic all on its own. Soon, Quinn felt Santana grow stiff, her fingers trapped and encircled in a clenching hot heat between powerful thighs clamped tightly together. Quinn jerked her own hips a few more times, tumbling into an orgasm as well, moaning loudly in euphoria.

Minutes later, after harvesting a few more quivers from her own sex against Santana's taught ass, Quinn felt the brunette finally relax her thighs, allowing her to remove her hand.

"I have no self-control around you," Santana finally breathed, her voice gravelly and low.

Quinn kissed her shoulder and pulled her hand out of Santana's pants.

"Me neither," the blonde admitted as Santana rolled onto her back, sighing in content. She watched with hooded brown eyes as Quinn licked her fingers, cleaning Santana's essence from them.

"You taste different."

"Don't be vulgar," Santana rolled her eyes.

"You do! Like… salty. What have you been eating?"

"0.9% saline, straight into my veins."

"Shit… are you supposed to be having sex so soon after surgery?"

"Now you're concerned about that?!"

"I don't want to hurt you, Santana! Are you ok?"

"I'm fine. I like, barely moved. You had me in a vice grip," she laughed.

Quinn rolled her eyes, watching as the brunette reached forward and threaded her left hand into her hair. She pulled Quinn forward, guiding their lips together. And when she pulled back, her nose scrunched up just a little.

"You're right. That is salty. I need some water."

"Let's get you some food too," Quinn said before kissing her again, gently. She then made to get up and out of bed but Santana caught her hand.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah," she breathed in response, looking down at the beautiful woman she'd been thinking of, nonstop, for months now. Her cheeks were still flushed, lips somewhat swollen, her hair just a bit mussed. Gorgeous; so gorgeous. And, God, her eyes. She dark and brown. So vulnerable.

"We're really doing this?"

"Yeah," she smiled, finding Santana's caution endearing. "We're really doing this."

"Ok."

After cleaning up in the bathroom, the two went downstairs. Rachel was on the phone in the living room. She spared them a knowing glance but didn't follow them into the kitchen, opting to continue her conversation in privacy. Santana got herself a glass of water while Quinn stood and tried to sift through the food in the fridge.

"What's this?" she asked, pulling out a tupperware container filled with what looked like brown rice, veggies, and meat.

"Arroz con gandules," Santana responded after she finished her glass of water. She began refilling her cup and Quinn opened up the container, smelling what was inside.

"Whoa, this smells good," she nodded, before turning to look at Santana. "Can I have some?"

"Go for it," she said.

"Are you going to have some?"

"Nah, I'm taking it easy for now. I'll just make some oatmeal or something equally bland."

Quinn warmed the rice in the microwave while Santana went for the stovetop. Soon Quinn was settling down at the kitchen table while Santana sliced some bananas atop her oatmeal.

"Sooo…." Santana said, mixing her food a little.

"Hmm?" Quinn asked, taking a dainty mouthful of rice from her spoon.

"How is this going to work?"

"What? Us dating?" Quinn questioned after making sure her mouth was no longer full.

"Yeah."

"We could take turns visiting each other. Go on dates. Talk on the phone in between visits."

"You'd go on a date with me? In public?"

"Well…" Quinn seemed to flounder and Santana rolled her eyes.

"You haven't thought this through at all, have you?"

"I have! I just… maybe not as thoroughly as necessary."

"Quinn…"

"Look. There are a lot of factors here, ok? And it's going to be confusing. But I know I want to be with you, Santana. Everything else will fall into place."

"Well, I'm sure Santana appreciates the optimism, but optimism alone does not a relationship make. And I, for one, am absolutely tired of watching you string her along with empty promises because you are completely lacking in foresight and the ability to produce a contingency plan."

Quinn bristled immediately, turning to glare at Rachel who'd only just announced her presence by butting into their conversation. She stood across from Santana, an indignant look firm on her face.

"Rach, come on, chill," Santana pleaded, completely shocked by Rachel's behavior this morning.

"No, I will not chill," she ranted, point at Santana with her cell phone. "I'm irritated. I've just spent the past fifteen minutes pretending I couldn't hear you two fingering each other upstairs. You didn't even have the decency to close the door. This is not freshman year, Santana. You can't just force me to listen to you engage in sexual congress with women when I'm visiting you. And I can't imagine Dr. Liu wanted you to put that kind of strain on your surgical wounds a day after your procedure. Furthermore, I was listening in on Lucy—I mean, Quinn. Quinn Fabray, well-known right-wing news anchor and political commentator, say she's going to take you, a woman and known lesbian, out on dates. Even I know that is a lie. So, I'm going to say this one time, and one time only. Quinn, you need to discuss this relationship with your agent, or your PR people, or whoever. Because sitting here in Santana's kitchen, with your mind in the clouds after being thoroughly fucked beyond your wildest dreams, is not, at all, how to develop a reasonable plan of action. I will not allow you to continue to use my friend as some dark room, back alley, shadowy secret paramour. She is a woman that you claim to care for. You will treat her as such."

By the end of Rachel's rant, Santana's face was in her hands and Quinn staring at the woman with a stunned expression. There was a hint of a smile on her lips, but just barely.

"What makes you think I was the one being fucked, Ms. Berry?" Quinn asked, a grin growing on her face.

"Oh my God, Quinn. Stop. Both of you, stop," Santana finally intervened looking up at them both.

Rachel's face was completely red, her eyes wide as she stared at Quinn, scandalized.

"Look, Rachel, we don't have everything figured out. We literally just started talking about it before you dropped your 2 cents. This is not going to be figured out today. It's not going to take one conversation.

"And I'm sorry, about earlier. I should've been more considerate to you. We should've shut the door. Clearly we weren't thinking. It won't happen again."

"Well, thank you. I suppose I can handle having yet another woman's moans burned into the auditory memories. I can appreciate the fact she didn't try to dirty talk like Brittany was oft to do."

"Can we not talk about the sexual habits of my ex, please?" Santana rolled her eyes. "Look, whatever happens next, I'm ok with moving at a pace that Quinn is comfortable with. Dating a woman, publically, means coming out. And that's a huge step for someone who hasn't always known they were attracted to women. I can't rush her, and it's ok if we spend some time not being as public as we could be. I need to figure out how to break it to my parents, anyway."

"Thank you, Santana," Quinn said sincerely. "There are things I need to do—career-wise. I know the network will not take kindly to the revelation. There's a morality clause in my contract. I will likely be out of a job, and I need to figure out if I can line something else up ahead of time."

"Of course," Santana said, finally eating some of her oatmeal.

"So, what's the deal, Quinn Fabray?" Rachel asked. "Are you gay? Bi? Straight with just a hint of lust for Santana?"

"Oh," Quinn paused, looking intently at the rice in her bowl. "I haven't really thought about it. I mean, Sam and I talked about it for a bit. I think I'm bisexual, but I'm not completely sure."

"Wait, really?" Santana asked, her spoon stilling in her hand.

"Yeah. I've never been attracted to a woman before I met you. And even then, I've never been attracted to anyone the way I am to you. It's all very confusing."

"Santana has that effect on people," Rachel grumbled, taking a seat at the table. Quinn quirked an eyebrow up, looking sharply at Rachel who didn't seem to be paying her any attention.

"Excuse me?" Quinn ask accusingly, quickly turning to look at Santana.

"It's ok if you don't have it figured out, Quinn," Santana said, rolling her eyes at Rachel's dramatism and Quinn falling for the bait.

"I do have it figured out. I'm very attracted to you and I care about you, a lot. That's what matters right? I don't have to really slap a label on myself."

"You don't—of course not—but you'll need to spend some time thinking about the language you'll use when asked about our relationship. The impact you'll make on various people will eventually hinge on how you describe yourself, in the context of our relationship."

"I see," Quinn responded, scooping up the last of the rice onto her spoon. "I don't like the idea of labeling myself, but I suppose you're suggesting that I do for the sake of… being a role model for someone else?"

"You don't have to be anyone's role model. Given your public persona, I'd honestly hope that you aren't," Santana teased.

"Asshole," Quinn muttered, finishing off her food.

"I, for one, think there is an excellent story here. Star-crossed lovers, persisting against all odds. One changing for the better," Rachel sighed, dreamily.

"I'm assuming I'm the one changing," Quinn gave Rachel a dry look.

"Well, if Santana improved any more than she already has, it wouldn't be very fair to the rest of us, would it? I'm fairly certain this lapse in judgement in selecting a partner is the flaw that prevents her from ascending into a goddess-like state. Alas, what she lacks in judgement of bedmates, she makes up for in judgement of friends."

Quinn gave Santana a look as if to ask, 'Is she always like this?' and Santana merely rolled her eyes, as if fondly tired of Rachel's backhanded compliments.

"Rach, play nice."

The brunette harrumphed, and Quinn frowned. She'd been failing, all morning, to win Rachel over to her side.

"Rachel, what can I say to convince you I'm not here to ruin Santana?"

"Nothing, at this exact moment. But I'm hoping your actions will eventually win me over. Santana seems to be invested in you and the relationship you share. I'll have to trust her judgement for now. But don't think, for a minute, that the moment you mess up that I won't come after you. I live in New York too, you know. I'll find you."

"Ok, ladies," Santana intervened. The last thing she wanted was for Quinn to unleash the mean girl response she knew had been aching to break free. Verbally, Quinn could eviscerate Rachel, and while she'd been showing a monumental level of restraint, she really didn't need to let Rachel goad her into letting loose.

"Also, I'm not signing your ridiculous NDA. I know better than to subject my best friend to the momentous backlash of outing you and this relationship. As an ally to the LGBTQ community, I wouldn't even think of outing anyone, regardless of how… untrustworthy the party. My fathers raised me better than that."

"Thanks?"

"Not a favor to you, Ms. Fabray. But you're welcome."

"Rachel, seriously, stop," Santana sighed.

"I'm done," the brunette said, throwing her hands up in defense.

Quinn opened her mouth to respond, but her phone ringing in the purse she'd left hanging from one of the kitchen chairs earlier this morning interrupted her. She stood to retrieve the phone, looking at the caller ID for a moment before excusing herself from the table.

"I have to take this," she said, walking away from the kitchen.

Rachel immediately turned to Santana.

"Are you sure she's the one you want to be with?"

"Rachel, calm down. You're acting like I'm getting married."

"I'm just saying, this has disaster written all over it. The circumstances of her being closeted… and her being, well, Quinn Fabray. I'm worried about you. This can get nasty, in the press, very quickly. I know you're no longer relying on public opinion to carry your now forsaken political career, but it's bad optics, regardless. She tried to explain things to me this morning—about how it's all been an act for her. But it's been going on for so long. How could anyone deceive an entire country for years without there being unforeseen consequences? How do you know she hasn't internalized the things she's been saying and supporting? It doesn't add up, Santana. I'm concerned."

"I appreciate the concern, Rachel."

"But?"

"No 'but'. I appreciate the concern. I've had months to think about the very reservations you've expressed. I know you don't trust her, and Quinn is… I know her heart. There are some things that, clearly, she does believe in that I don't completely agree with. That said, I don't think there is a fundamental difference in what we think is right and wrong. And if I do discover something like that, I won't force myself to stick around. Regardless, I want to see where this can go. I really enjoy my time with her—the level of intimacy we achieve is… it's new, for me."

Rachel made a face that betrayed her discomfort.

"Not just physical intimacy, Rach. Emotional intimacy. I haven't felt like this since before Brittany walked away. It has to mean something. I can't just ignore how I'm feeling."

"Ok, ok," she laughed. "Fine. I'll give her a chance. But I will be keeping a close eye on her from now on."

"Ok."

"Last question; don't you think it's odd she's still hanging around her ex-boyfriend?"

Santana didn't think it was odd at all. Sam was a really great guy, and he wouldn't hesitate to stick around to support his ex through a tough time. Yes, there was this little fear in Santana's mind that his presence would overwhelm Quinn's desire to be with Santana who she did not have access to every day, but the brunette would just have to trust Quinn. And, hell, Quinn managed to deny the powerful, earthshattering attraction they shared while she was with Sam. If she could stay loyal through that, then it wasn't likely she'd cheat on her.

"He offered to act as my beard," Quinn said, stepping back into the kitchen.

"What is it about my kitchen that makes people think they can just jump in and out of conversations they weren't initially involved in?" Santana asked, exasperated.

"I think it's the open concept floor design," Quinn offered with a sassy smirk. "Anyway, I have to go. That was the studio… Apparently I'm going to be on Good Morning America later this week. And I need to answer for walking off set a couple days ago. And leaving town… And not showing up for my show last night."

"Oh, ok."

"Don't look so sad, San," she said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "I'm going to go get changed. Apparently I'm expected on a flight back in the next 2 hours, so I need to head back to the airport."

Quinn disappeared upstairs and quickly returned wearing her jeans and the shirt she'd carelessly tossed onto Santana's bedroom floor earlier. She grabbed Santana's hand, pulling her up from her seat and leading her toward the front door.

"I'll let you know when I get back to New York. And we'll talk about what to do next."

"Ok," Santana nodded, placing a hand on Quinn's hip before sliding her arm around her back and pulling her close. She pressed her lips against Quinn's, suddenly feeling like they were running out of time. This time, her kiss was a little more aggressive, and her hands fumbled to find purchase on Quinn's body.

She felt herself whimper when Quinn's hands slid down her back and found her butt, squeezing and pulling her tight against her body.

"Newfound fixation?" Santana breathed heavily, a laugh falling from her lips. Quinn squeezed again, smiling before pressing one final peck against Santana's mouth.

"You've always had a great ass, Santana. Today, it's just really driving me wild."

The brunette immediately thought back to Quinn riding her ass, grinding her way into an orgasm.

"Get out of here," Santana chuckled, licking her lips as she pulled away. If she didn't send Quinn away immediately, she'd drag her back up to her bedroom.

"Rachel, I'll see you later!" Quinn called before turning toward the door.

"Bye!" she heard a response yelled through the house.

Just as Quinn pulled the door open, Santana stopped her.

"I need to just say this while you're here," Santana said quickly.

Quinn looked at her curiously, failing to hold back the smile on her lips.

Santana smiled at her too, before saying, "I know Rachel texted you and said this—but I want you to hear it from me. I'm so proud of you. I know talking about your pregnancy was difficult, but you were incredibly brave for sharing that. Even if your hand was forced. You were the picture of grace and poise. So, yeah, just wanted you to know that I'm proud of you, Quinn. I hope that I get more opportunities to tell you that I'm in awe of your bravery, and I promise I will be there to support you through your next difficult moment. You know… unless my spleen gets fucked up or something."

Quinn chuckled at the comment about splenic issues. She grinned at Santana, her lips settling into a soft, closed lipped smile after a while. She took a second to gaze at Santana, her expression softening rapidly.

It was that moment that something shifted into place for Quinn, locking her in. She desperately wanted to tell Santana that she'd go to the moon and back just to be brave for her.

Instead she said, "Thank you, Santana. I'll add your spleen to my weekly prayer list."

Quinn left with a quick wink and Santana stood in the foyer for a few moments to process their interaction. She couldn't keep the smile from her lips. For the first time in a long while, her heart felt light.


A/N: A big thank you to everyone reading and reviewing. I wasn't completely satisfied with how this chapter turned out, but I forced myself to stop editing and just post it. I think I just struggle with writing happiness because I just #CantRelate lol. ANYWAY, drop a review if you feel like it. I read them all. They remind me to write when I have the time.