Chapter Eight: Sweetener
Quinn has never been inclined to work for free, especially when said work entailed anything that made her break a sweat. So it was a funny thing that she was so willing to help Santana move in with Brittany. And even funnier still, she didn't even have to be asked.
During a walk in the park after a long day at work and stressful day studying for Santana, Santana begins to worrying over what she's going to take with her and what she's going to get rid of, working herself up to the point she begins to text Brittany mid-conversation claiming that she needs to ask Brittany just one more thing despite having bugged her the entire day already.
Gently placing her hand on top of Santana's, Quinn looks into those deep, brown eyes and says, "I'll come around and help you out, okay?"
It only made sense, she was in the city, she was pretty free, and so what if she was feeling a little generous?
"What? No, no. Quinn don't be stupid, I'll be fine I just-"
"Santana, please." Santana stops talking and Quinn fights a smile at the look on the other woman's face. "Let me help. You won't believe how rare this offer is, so please take me up on it."
An unsure expression passes over Santana's face but after a moment she sighs and accepts, smiling at Quinn like she'd hung the moon.
"I've hired a van out for Saturday, I'll have it around twelve-ish if that's good with you." Santana's hand squeezes Quinn's wrist, a sign she's about to leave and probably stress some more but out of the vicinity of the woman who'd tell her to stop.
"Yeah, that's fine. I may even bring you a house warming gift if you're lucky."
"Quinn, really. Helping me is already too much," Quinn resists the urge to roll her eyes, instead she steps closer to the other woman, "you don't have to get me anything-"
Quinn presses a firm kiss to Santana's lips that stops her in her tracks. "Just let me do this. I want to. And anyway, who's to say it'll be a good gift?"
"Hmm," Santana's eye squints, a small smile teasing at the corner of her lips, "I doubt you could give a bad one."
Quinn resists the urge to laugh, instead planting another, softer kiss to those perfect lips that she's come to adore. Humming in neither agreement nor disagreement, simply enjoying the closeness they now share against the elements. A sudden breeze sends leaves skittering down the park's path causing a chill to chase its way down Quinn's back and Santana to pull her even closer.
"I'm gonna go now," Santana says, confirming what Quinn already knew was coming, "but I'll see you soon."
"Okay," Quinn smiles. "I'll see you soon."
When Santana instinctively closes her eyes and leans forward to kiss Quinn once more, Quinn's smile only widens.
"Quinn, stop staring and kiss me goodbye already."
Quinn brings her lips so that they brush against Santana's, her warm breath caressing cold skin. "So bossy."
"You like it." The words spill across Quinn's lips like the hot tongue that formed them, teasing another smile out of her.
"Debatable." She says out loud, but by God, Santana was right. Quinn fell naturally into assertiveness, it was her default setting. In charge. In control. But that didn't mean she didn't enjoy the times Santana would push back on that.
The kiss that follows makes Quinn forget about the chill, in fact, it makes her forget about a lot of things. As did most of their kisses. The world seems to fall away when she kissed Santana.
"Saturday," Santana reiterates as she slowly breaks away with a small nod.
Quinn watches her leave and with lightness in her step, turns in the other direction and heads home.
At twelve on Saturday, Quinn arrives at Santana's dressed in her old art overalls, her hair pinned up and out of the way. Not that it gets in the way as much as it used to. If she were to describe her appearance it would be art teacher.
"Wow. You're really leaning into your newfound identity." Are the first words out of Santana's mouth as she opens her door to Quinn.
"Huh?"
"You look like a lesbian."
"Oh," Quinn puts her hands in her pockets and pulls the overalls out in front of her to look them over. "I thought I'd dress for the occasion." Quinn was starting to feel a little self-conscious.
"Fuck, I wasn't making fun," Santana runs her finger along the opening of the huge pocket on the front, "you look cute."
"Cute?" Quinn scoffs.
"Fine. Hot. That better?"
"A little."
"Are you coming?" Santana asks as she steps backwards, inviting Quinn inside.
"Would you like me to?" Quinn asks innocently enough, but Santana's resulting blush makes her feel a little smug nonetheless.
It's also enough to distract her from the whole purpose for being her here in her… what was Santana to Quinn? What are they? They haven't really discussed it. They haven't even slept together since that first time and even though Quinn had asked to go slow, she has started to want to speed up the process. Especially when Santana gives her that coy look, that coy look that is so, so deceiving. Quinn knows what Santana is capable of and it makes the anticipation all the more delicious.
"Fuck me," Santana pants, wiping the sweat from her brow with her forearm, "that shit was heavy."
Quinn, in the same state, stands with her hands resting on her hips as she admires their efforts. They'd managed to pack the van without too much trouble. The only two-man job was the dresser Santana said she couldn't possibly part with.
"And how were you going to move this if I didn't help?"
The cockiness that suddenly overcomes Santana is impressive, "Have you seen me? I'm sure I would have found somebody willing to help. The building manager has been trying to get in my pants since I moved in, he would have jumped at the chance… but I guess I'm lucky somebody else did, huh?"
"Yeah, pretty lucky."
Quinn pushes the van doors closed and pats it for good measure before joining Santana in the front. Judging by the fidgeting, Santana seems a little nervous to be driving.
"Ever driven one of these before?"
"No, but first time for everything."
"True," Quinn replies calmly in an attempt to hide her sudden apprehension. "Did you say goodbye to your apartment?"
Santana clicks her tongue and leans close to her window to look up at the building, "She knows I love her," brown eyes turn back to her, "and anyway, I'll have to come back to drop off my keys and do some paperwork in the week anyway. Don't want to tease her like that."
"I see. That'd be quite cruel wouldn't it?"
"Exactly," a cheeky smile now graces her lips, "and I'm anything but if I can help it."
"Why don't I believe that?"
"I couldn't tell you, Quinn."
Quinn's lips twitch, then she remembers something. "Oh, I have that gift I promised."
Santana flips the van's mirror back up, looking at Quinn with a faint look of surprise, "You really got me a gift?"
"Duh," Quinn shrugs, reaching into the pocket of her overalls and pulling out a Taylor Swift keyring with the words 'Shake It Off' written on both sides. "To remember our first official date."
Santana's brow scrunches in confusion before she registers why on Earth Quinn would ever think she would want a Taylor Swift keyring and then her cheeks flame with embarrassment. "You asshole," she laughs, really belly laughs. "I'm never going to live that down."
"No. No you're not." Quinn grins, her own laugh bubbling through her words.
"Damn, I knew I should've gotten you to sign a non-disclosure when I had the chance," Santana slaps her thigh in faux-annoyance.
Quinn tuts, "C'mon now Miss Up-And-Coming-Lawyer, got to up your game."
"Suppose you'll have to stick around to keep me on my toes," Santana casually throws out and the insinuation that Santana sees them together long-term makes Quinn's heart beat a little faster.
"I suppose I will."
Hours had passed since Quinn and Santana had unloaded Santana's things, Brittany had been there when they arrived and lent a hand which sped the whole process tenfold. She put Quinn and Santana to shame with the ease and speed she moved the boxes upon boxes of Santana's old apartment into their new one. But she didn't stick around, being the whirlwind she is, she gave them both a cheery goodbye and said she'd be back with a surprise.
Santana had given Quinn a dubious look, but Brittany ignored it in favour of skipping out of the front door.
From then on it had been just the two of them. They've been dating for a few weeks now and all of their dates have resulted in no more than a kiss or two… or three. And almost all of them have involved going out and doing something together, public spaces kept them in check. Well, that was how Quinn reasoned it when she decided to set the pace to glacial.
Being alone with Santana in a private space was a test of her own will and she knew it. Santana didn't even have to try to be sexy, even when tripping over one of the many boxes strewn across the living room she somehow managed to pull it off. And although sexy was good, oh so good, Quinn enjoyed the soft underbelly that was Santana in her element. Record playing, singing along as she pulls out her kitchen utensils, hair down, attention taken by a G-string in the wrong box.
Her puzzled gaze met Quinn's unabashed stare, thong hanging from her finger, confusion soon replaced by something more heated at the look in Quinn's eyes.
The G-string is soon forgotten, dropped back into the wrong box as Santana makes her way over to Quinn, who has been arranging Santana's records by year of release despite Santana telling her she didn't have to do anything at all.
No sooner is she on her knees to be level with Quinn, a sudden uncertainty passing over her features as she rubs sweaty palms down her thighs. Quinn follows the motion with her eyes then swallows, hard.
"Do you need any help?" Santana asks, her voice low and smooth like butter.
Running her finger over the hard edge of the record in her hand, Quinn dips her head to hide the heat in her cheeks.
Clearing her throat she eventually lifts it again to say, "I won't say no to a hand."
Santana's mouth quirks into a smirk as she takes the record from Quinn. The slight brushing of hands sends a small spark through her, definitely not helping the blushing situation.
"Here," Santana says in an almost whisper.
What 'here' means is entirely lost on Quinn. Her eyes not following Santana's hands. No, they follow her eyes, mouth, then teeth as Santana's lips break into another smile.
The sound of cardboard scratching against hardwood joins the crooning from the record player as Quinn pushes the box aside, edging forward on her knees to close the gap between them. With a gentle press of hands on hips, Quinn pulls Santana towards her to capture her in a kiss.
Eyes closed, lips against lips, tongue against tongue. Smoothing her hands around Santana's waist, Quinn hugs the other woman against her, revelling in the pressure of body against body. Santana's hands brush against Quinn's jaw and neck. The light scratch of Santana's nails at her nape make her eyes roll back behind her eyelids. It feels so good.
"Knock, knock!" Brittany announces, startling both Quinn and Santana in equal measure, the sharp pinch of pain that radiates from her lip being another unexpected surprise.
"Ah, fuck," Quinn yelps, pulling back to touch her lip. "You bit me."
"Sorry," Santana hushes, brushing a tentative thumb over Quinn's bottom lip before planting an even lighter kiss there. "Kissed it better," she follows with a wink as she sits back on her haunches.
Quinn shakes her head, mindlessly running the tip of her tongue over the sore spot before returning her attention to Brittany who has just finished kicking off her shoes and putting her bags on the floor.
"Remember that surprise I told you about?" She sings, her voice practically vibrating with excitement.
"Uh-huh," Santana replies, whilst Quinn eyes the suspiciously active bag besides Brittany's feet.
"Well here he is," with swift movements Brittany unzips her bag and pulls out the fattest cat Quinn has ever witnessed. She has to stop her jaw from hitting the floor at his sheer enormity. "A friend for Daphne."
Quinn edges a glance in Santana's direction and sees a mixture of alarm and shock written all over her face, her mouth opening and closing a few times before settling on, "What the fuck is that?"
Brittany's grin spreads cheek to cheek, "Lord Tubbington, of course."
"Of course," Santana mutters in pure disbelief.
Later that evening, with Tubbington settled on her feet, Santana busy in the kitchen, and Brittany sat on the opposite end of the sofa, she watches the closing scenes of Iron Giant with tears brimming her eyes. She is so enraptured she doesn't feel the poke at first, but eventually, Brittany's prodding gets her attention.
With a self-conscious smile, Quinn dabs at her eyes and waits for Brittany to speak.
"So are you and San a thing?"
The question would have been more of a surprise if the answer was no, but Quinn and Santana did have a thing going on. What exactly was to be determined, but it was a thing.
"Yeah, I guess."
"You guess?"
"No," Quinn reaches down to itch between the cat's ears, "I know we're a thing."
It makes her heart beat a little faster to admit it out loud. Not so long ago she couldn't even admit she had an attraction to women, never mind being romantically involved with one and being open about it.
"Sorry about earlier."
"Huh?"
"I didn't mean to interrupt, but I picked Tubbs up pretty early and there was only so long I could carry him around the park," Brittany leans over to cover Tubbington's ears. "He's a bit on the heavy side," she mouths.
"Where'd you even get him?"
"That's a secret," Brittany smiles, a mischievous glint in her eye.
"Oh," Quinn says, unsure.
"Just kidding, I'm looking after him for a few days for a friend of mine." She pecks Tubbington on his head. "But don't tell Santana. I'm going to make her sweat it a little longer thinking she'll have to live with him."
"Don't tell Santana what?" Santana asks as she strolls into the living room.
"Nothing," Brittany preens with a butter wouldn't melt smile.
"Sure," Santana drawls.
Quinn stands, "I think I'll call it a day and head home," she looks to the darkening sky outside.
"You want me to walk you out?" It was a rhetorical question and they both knew it.
"Bye, Brittany." Quinn gives a small wave. "Bye, Tubbs."
"Bye, Quinn." Brittany waves back and takes one of Tubbington's paws to do the same.
They'd said their goodbyes and Quinn was already halfway down the hallway when she was struck with the urge to turn around. When she did, Santana was still leaning around the door to watch her leave.
"Did you forget something?"
Quinn stands there for a second, weighing her options.
"I just," she pauses, "we're a thing, right?"
The laugh she gets in response does little to help her sudden uncertainty.
"I'd hope so."
"Oh, good," she says, sagging in relief as Santana approaches her.
"You surprise me every day, did you know that?" Santana says, her dark eyes shining. Quinn's eyes close as Santana presses her lips to hers, and with a final, "Text me when you get home, okay?" Santana walks back into her new apartment and leaves Quinn with tingling lips and a racing heart.
The following weekend a storm hits New York. Blistering winds, pounding rain, the works.
Turning her phone over in her hand, Quinn glances out of her apartment's window to look at the dreary scene outside. It was overcast and people were running, umbrellas in hand, through dirty puddles and sparse streets. Even though the city was greyer than it normally was, she could understand why people enjoyed the rain. It made being inside cosier and it had a certain beauty to it.
She wonders what Santana is doing when a rumble of thunder cues the devil herself; with a swipe of her screen her question is answered.
"Hey."
"Hey, what's up?"
"Look outside, that's what's up," Quinn trails her eyes along the darkening skyline. "Anyway," she continues and Quinn can almost hear Santana's lips purse over the phone, "Britt's away for the weekend and... I'd appreciate some company."
"Some company?"
"Well, yours specifically actually."
"I think something could be arranged. I'll be there in," Quinn glances to the clock hanging above her bookshelf and to the pouring rain outside, "twenty, give or take."
That twenty became thirty-five due to Quinn's sudden panic over what she should wear to Santana's. Having decided on something casual after some time, her efforts were to be for nothing when her taxi pulled up outside of Santana's building. In the six steps it took her to get to the door and get buzzed in, Quinn was drenched to the bone.
She was cold and wet. It sucked.
"Did you walk here?" Santana gapes when she opens her door to a drowned rat.
Quinn's blank look is enough to have her ushering her in and pulling off Quinn's coat as she kicks off her shoes.
Santana's place is cast in a warm glow, the light from deeper into the apartment bleeds into the small crook where the front door is tucked away with the coats and shoes. Well, some of the shoes. Quinn had seen the true extent of Santana's shoe addiction when she helped her unpack and the measly pile at the door couldn't compare.
"Fuck, you're soaked."
Quinn grimaces, her clothes cling to her skin and her hair drips water into her eyes.
Santana's snort brings Quinn's attention back to the woman in front of her and she sees that she has a hand clamped over her mouth.
"Oh, think it's funny do you?"
"Kinda?"
"Okay," Santana eyes Quinn cautiously as she watches her start to pull her shirt over her head, the remaining laughter dying on her lips and, seemingly, any and all blood rush to her cheeks. Distracted, she doesn't anticipate Quinn shaking her wet hair wildly, flinging drops of water everywhere and more specifically, all over her. "Hey!"
It is Quinn's turn to laugh.
Despite the fact her jeans hug her skin uncomfortably, that her arms and midriff feel the sudden chill of being exposed, and her wet hair pokes her in the eyes, she is content - here with Santana.
A moment of stillness passes over them as they calm, Santana's eyes drift over bare skin only to meet Quinn's again. Her cheeks still flushed, but the shyness no longer there. Quinn bites her lip as Santana's hooded eyes roam her face before landing on her lips.
"We should get you out of the rest of those damp clothes. I don't want you getting sick."
"That'd suck." Quinn nods, moving her hands to undo the button on her jeans only to have Santana step into her personal space to place her hands over cold ones.
"So hard," Santana adds, a small grin forming on her lips.
Quinn sucks in a breath as Santana tugs on her zip, eyes locked with hers as she begins her descent to pull them down. Her newly exposed skin still feels cool to the touch, Santana's warm hands being more than welcome as they skim down her thighs. When her jeans reach her ankles, Santana kneels at her feet, her hands settling on the back of her thighs just under her ass as she waits for her to kick them away. When she does, Santana doesn't move. Her hands trail their way back to where they were and she flashes Quinn a smile. A smile that only sharpens when she runs her thumbs under the band of Quinn's hipster briefs, pulls, and watches Quinn's face closely as it snaps back in place.
The gasp that escapes Quinn spurs Santana further. Warm breath brushes just below Quinn's navel before an even warmer mouth presses against it. Eyes still locked, Santana runs her tongue the short distance between belly-button and band, her thumbs still tucked under, edging it ever further down. Quinn's breath comes harder, lost in every touch and sensation.
Santana manages to kiss and nip at every sensitive spot.
Quinn's eyes close, her right hand stroking through thick, black hair as her left rests against the wall, focusing on supple lips, slick tongue, sharp teeth. Steady, assertive hands slip down and around her thighs, pressing against that spot again but with more force, more purpose. Her eyes open and she sees her hipsters tossed aside, Santana's dark eyes intently up at her, mouth parted, eyebrow arched in question. A question Quinn won't say no to.
From left hand to forearm, Quinn rests more of her weight against the wall as her thigh comes to rest on Santana's shoulder. Nails lightly trail their way up and over her ass to rest at her hip, leaving goose bumps in their wake and almost distracting her from how close Santana's mouth is to where she aches for her.
Quinn tries to control her stuttering breath but relents when Santana presses a light, tormenting kiss just above her clit.
"Don't tease," she whispers, fingers slightly pressing deeper into black hair.
It feels like forever since the last time they did this. Touched each other in this way. Quinn's glad it's happening like this, without pretence, spontaneously, naturally. But now it's different. Now there's an emotional closeness that they didn't have before to match the physical. Call her a sap, but the thought makes her...
"...wet," Santana mumbles, her head dipping to take Quinn into her mouth, fully and hungrily.
"Fu-," Quinn chokes, grip tightening on Santana's hair.
The coldness from earlier is long forgotten, Quinn is heat embodied, her face flushed despite all of the blood in her body rushing south, teeth digging into lip, nipples uncomfortably hard against her bra. God how she's been waiting for Santana to fuck her.
With deft and equilibrium-destroying movements Santana's tongue strokes through her, brushing against her clit and drawing out a long and guttural moan.
Quinn wishes she could rock into Santana, meet her mouth for a quicker release. What makes her all the more desperate is that Santana's pace is torturously slow.
Quinn chances a look back down when she feels Santana tilt her head back, smile sharp and teasing as she looks back up at her. Quinn watches as her head turns to the thigh resting on her shoulder and licks, nips, sucks. Her smile even more dangerous as she pulls back, leaving a mark.
"San," her name tumbles from Quinn's lips. Her other leg begins to ache from the position, but it's so perfect for what she wants, what she needs.
Santana must feel the tremble of tired muscles and swiftly reclaims her position, soft lips, wet touches, shared whimpers. Quinn's leg wobbles and her grip tightens. But much to her frustration, Santana releases her just before the coil tightening inside of can spring loose.
The woman on her knees stands, eyes impossibly dark and lips quirked. With an impossibly soft, "Hey," she kisses her.
Quinn hums at the taste of herself on Santana, but she can't ignore the glaring ache that has her subconsciously leaning into Santana, pushing for some kind of pressure, friction, anything.
Santana pulls back again just when she thinks she's found purchase and it's embarrassing how much she wants to whine about it. The other woman pulling her own shirt over her head puts a halt to any complaints. Instead, Quinn leans back in to kiss Santana again, wrapping an arm around bare waist, the sensation of skin against skin making her hair stand on end.
Santana melts into her like she was always meant to be this way. Her teeth pinch Quinn's lip as her eyes flutter open to take Quinn in once more.
"Come," she whispers, slowly loosening herself from Quinn's hold to slip her hands into hers. Santana pulls Quinn into the living room, her body bathed in the warm golden glow of the lamp next to the couch. The rain still pours outside, the clouds having completely eclipsed any blue left in the sky, and the sound of droplets on the window pane mutes the low murmur of the TV that rumbles on in the background.
Quinn, following Santana, slides up behind her before she turns around, pulling her hair to the side to kiss her neck. Her hands slide down and over hips to play at the hem of Santana's shorts, letting Santana weigh heavily against her as she sends a silent thanks to the big man upstairs that Santana opted for comfort over her usual preference for style as the hem easily lifts and allows her hand to glide under to press against wet panties.
It's Santana's turn to gasp. Her eyes snap to Quinn's reflection in the window only to catch her already looking as she plants soft kisses along her jaw, fingers playing everywhere except where she needs her.
Santana's relief as Quinn pulls panties aside to drag a finger through her is short-lived, as Quinn pulls her hand away without any follow-through.
"Quinn," she whimpers.
"What?" Quinn watches the small frown on Santana's face with a smirk, a smirk that only grows as she sees hungry eyes follow her hand as she brings the finger to her lips with every intention to rile.
Payback is a bitch.
Santana turns in her arms, eyes squinted, with an unexpected pout that makes Quinn bite back a laugh.
"You're so mean." The words may have hurt if they weren't followed by a series of eager kisses. Kisses that make Quinn's stomach flip and body run hotter. "But," Santana runs her tongue along Quinn's bottom lip, "I suppose I deserved that."
Quinn feels a hand run up her back and her bra fall loose, she copies Santana's actions as she rids the other woman of hers and drops it to the ground. Firm hands push her back onto the couch, warm thighs soon either side of her own, Santana having rid herself of the final barriers between a naked her and a naked Quinn as soon as Quinn's ass hit cushion.
Lightly scratching Santana's thighs, Quinn grinds up into Santana, still sensitive from earlier and in want of some release that didn't involve reacquainting herself with her own hand. Something she'd found herself doing more often than usual after weeks of dating Santana with the good intention to go steady - in every sense of the word.
"You're so beautiful," the words come hushed against Santana's lips as she breaks the kiss they so easily fell into when Santana got on top of her.
Quinn was feeling some type of way and her heart had begun to beat faster because of it. It was a feeling she wasn't familiar with and it was an overwhelming feeling whatever it was; overwhelming in the best way possible.
Santana brought her hands up to cup her face, a gentle smile on her lips, "And?" The smile grew.
"Hilarious." Quinn smiles right back, their teeth lightly clicking as they met once more in a kiss that they both laugh in to.
Santana caresses Quinn's jaw until Quinn's hold on her thighs becomes a hold on her waist, and that hold becomes a pull, a pull that jolts Santana into wrapping her arms around her neck to grind down into her.
Quinn can feel the heat of Santana against her abdomen and it sends her mind haywire. She wants all of Santana, she wants to be in Santana. So she manoeuvres her right hand free and edges her hand between them.
It's not only Santana who moans obscenely when two fingers slide into slick heat.
Quinn slowly pumps into her at first, acclimating to the position and the rhythm, but once she hits the sweet spot, once, twice, she picks up the pace. Not happy with the amount of space she has to move her hand, Quinn edges herself forward to open her own legs wider to spread Santana's. With a satisfied smirk, Quinn sends Santana's eyes rolling into the back of her head.
"Oh fuck," Santana husks as she meets Quinn's relentless pace with a bounce.
The mix of moans, pants, and the wet slap of skin works Quinn into a haze of euphoric delirium where the mere thought of Santana coming makes her throb.
Only when Santana manages to come twice in quick succession does Quinn feel the ache in her left arm as it strains against Santana's weight. Santana leans further back to ride out her orgasm, her head tilted back and chest rising and falling with a light sheen of sweat.
"Not to spoil the moment," Quinn cringes, "but uh… I'm going to drop you."
"Huh?" Santana flops forward, not comprehending what's said, but fixing Quinn's problem nonetheless by pushing her deeper into the couch.
A whimper escapes Santana as Quinn slips her slick fingers out of her to rest on her thigh. After a few minutes of lying on top of her, she begins to laugh into Quinn's shoulder.
"What?" Quinn smiles through the question.
"I totally broke the no-sex-on-the-couch rule."
"Oh," she laughs too. "Maybe we should move this somewhere else."
Santana leans back with a devilish smile that makes Quinn squirm. "You're not just a pretty face after all."
Quinn playfully slaps Santana's ass to edge herself forward once more and push herself up, forcing Santana to stand as well.
"I try," Quinn shrugs, biting her lip to contain the dopey smile she's sure is on her face.
"So stupid-sexy-smart," Santana hums, pulling Quinn with her, stopping every couple of steps backwards to peck Quinn's mouth, neck, chest.
That feeling again. It washes over Quinn and makes her breath catch as she looks into those eyes she's come to know so intimately.
It stuck with her long into the night, taking her higher and making her feel lightheaded when Santana peppered her with kisses after making her legs tremor and face flush pink with ecstasy. It stuck with her into the morning, the day after, and the day after that.
Call Quinn crazy, but she's starting to think that the way she looks at Santana is the same way Santana looks at her. And if she has come to understand this feeling, it can only mean one thing.
The realisation hits her in the store whilst picking up a few things for Santana before she heads over to her apartment and her cheeks begin to ache from smiling so hard.
"Good day?" The cashier asks, matching her smile.
"Yeah," she beams, "great, actually."
A/N: Hey hey, pretty people. I've written this story in second-person to experiment with the style (since I'm relatively new to writing), but I've had to switch it up for Quinn's POV. Hopefully it works, but if it doesn't… a lesson learned? Idk. (Also, apologies for any tense mistakes, I switched tense when editing and may have missed a few things. I'll sort them on a reread or something, lol.) And yes, I have been listening to the song 'sweetener' on repeat. And yes, it may have influenced this chapter. I hope you enjoyed. Til next time, buh-bye!