Chapter 12
Santana found herself walking down a long, desolate, deserted street. The sky was a bit grey, filled with many clouds. It wasn't raining, but she could feel the humidity in the air and smell the soft scent of the dew that was on the leaves on the trees next to her.
Her modest footsteps kept her company as Santana kept walking down the street. It was nice to breathe some fresh air: maybe this is why some people like to go on morning runs. Because it helps to clear their head, make them feel a bit better. Maybe she should try morning runs sometime, because it looks like something that would be good for her health.
The clouds suddenly parted and Santana found herself being beamed down upon by intense orange light. It was early morning, she realised. Well, if it was early morning, why not just run? The best time to start is now, right?
With that, Santana's legs started to move themselves into a slow jog. It was nice, feeling the soft breeze whip across the side of her face as she ran down the long, silent street.
It was serene, it was tranquil. It was very nice.
It wasn't until two minutes into her run, that Santana realised that she recognised the street that she was running in. Wasn't this the exact same place that Quinn had taken her some time ago, where the night market was? So this was what it looked like when all the stalls were taken down.
Santana knew that she should feel a little frightened at the fact that there were no signs of life at all in this street, but she didn't feel scared at all. All she felt was… relaxed. Relaxed as the lactic acid started to build up in her lower calf, feeling her muscles stretch and tense with the exertion of her jogging.
Time seemed to warp, and Santana was starting to get tired. Running was really tiring! She didn't know how people could run for hours without stopping. She could barely last more than 5 minutes.
Wait. How did she get here in the first place? She was by herself, and since she was a slave she wasn't meant to leave the house at any time unless she was accompanied by her master, or had their consent. Did she ask Quinn? She must have.
She couldn't remember.
Afraid that she would get into trouble, Santana turned back around. Maybe she should start making her way back to the Fabray Estate, Quinn would be worried about her, especially if she just left without a word. It was still early morning, she still had time. She'll be back before she's awake.
She saw an opening at the side of the street, turning off into a narrow road. Not really wanting to go down the barren street any longer, Santana took the exit and when she made it out after a minute or so, she found herself at the gates of the Fabray Estate.
Well, that was quick. She'll make sure to keep that shortcut in mind, so that if she goes to the night market with Quinn again they can use it. She had no idea that it was this close. Well, you learn new things every day.
The gate was unlocked, so Santana walked inside. She may have forgotten to close the gate behind her, but oh well, she'll do it later. The trek through the gravel wasn't that long, it took her about two minutes maximum, and she made it to the front door.
Why was it painted black? That was really strange. The last time Santana saw it, she was pretty sure that it was white. Or was it red? Her memory was a little fuzzy.
Wordlessly, Santana creeked the door open and stepped inside. The air was cold and frigid, and soon Santana's teeth started to chatter. Why was it colder inside than outside? How was that even possible? Santana grabbed a green coat that happened to be on the radiator next to her, and she put it around her shoulders. She didn't recall having ever seen it before, but it fit her snugly, and she was cold, so she wasn't going to complain.
She decided to walk upstairs quietly, not wanting to call attention to herself. If Mr Fabray didn't know that she had been out by herself and found her, she would be in trouble. She didn't want what happened to Brittany to happen to her too.
Wait, she was going the wrong way. Maybe she should go to her room instead, Quinn would probably not appreciate Santana sleeping in her bed.
That in mind, Santana did a 180 turn and walked down the corridor again, where the stairs to the basement were. Her slippers make a clack with every step she took down the quartz stairs, and within no time she is in front of the familiar door to her own room.
When she turned the handle and opened the door, the sight that greeted her was not one that she expected.
"Quinn?" Santana called out, because she saw the mane of long blonde hair. The blonde's back was facing Santana, and she was hunched over Santana's bed.
Quinn did not move at all. Her body was shaking slightly, as if she was crying.
Is she crying? Santana moved forward with another tentative, "Quinn?". Quinn didn't seem to hear her. She kept on sobbing, hunched over something that Santana realised was a body.
"It's no use," a voice to her right startled her. Santana whipped around to see a middle-aged woman with long brown hair, giving her a soft, warm smile.
"M-Mum?" Santana gasped, unable to comprehend what was going on right now. "W-What are you doing here?"
Santana's mother, Maribel, smiled gently. "I am so proud of you, San."
Santana stared wide-eyed at the woman that she had not seen in four years. "G-God, I missed you…" she nearly sobbed as she surged forward to engulf her mother in a hug, but when she finally got there, her mother was gone.
"Santana," this time it was Quinn's voice. Santana turned around to see the blonde at the bed again, but she still had her back turned.
"Yes?" Santana replied, just wishing that Quinn would turn around and meet her eyes.
"Santana," this time the voice was louder, and it seemed to come from all directions. Santana was so confused, what was going on?
"Santana!"
Santana sat up and blinked the sleep out of her eyes. What kind of dream was that? She shook her head slightly to gather her surroundings, and when she finally made sense of where she was, she found that she was in Quinn's room, in Quinn's bed.
The events of the night before suddenly came rushing back to Santana's mind that she blushed profusely. She felt blindly for her own body, and didn't know whether to feel mortified or satisfied when she felt bare skin there. She was naked.
And Quinn was right next to her, propped up on her elbow, staring at her with an expression that if Santana dared to say, read love. She couldn't be sure, however.
Quinn was so pretty. The light reflected off her skin in such a way that it made her glow.
"Bad dream?" Quinn asked, a little worried. "You were twisting and turning a lot, and I just thought that I should wake you up in case you were having a nightmare. It is morning, anyway, so it shouldn't be that bad that I interrupted your beauty sleep, right?"
"No, it's fine," Santana chuckled, leaning back so that her head was on the pillow again. "My dream wasn't bad, in itself. It was just really weird."
"In what way?" Quinn asked, curious.
"Well," Santana drawled, gathering the words she needed to explain herself. "I was in the street of the night market, then I was back home, and I saw you crying, and then I saw my mum. I have no idea what happened."
"You saw your mum?" Quinn seemed to be more interested in that than the reasons behind why she was crying. "Did she say anything?"
"Uh, yeah, actually," Santana scratched her head to try and recall what it was that she had said. "She said that she was proud of me," she said slowly, and then she suddenly came to a horrifying realisation. "What if it was her ghost coming to visit me in my sleep? She just disappeared when I tried to hug her. What if she's dead?"
"It's only a dream," Quinn reassured convincingly. "Plus, I'm really proud of you too."
"Yeah, I guess," Santana sighed. "Thanks."
The two laid there for a few minutes in calm silence, until Quinn suddenly spoke up again.
"Look, about last night –" Quinn started.
Santana immediately jumped to the worst conclusion. "You thought that it was a mistake?" she asked.
"No!" Quinn said quickly, quelling Santana's fears immediately. "I was going to say, um," Quinn blushed slightly. "It was all real, right? You were doing it because you wanted to, not because you had to, right?"
"Yes," Santana whispered, relieved. "It was as real to me as it was to you."
"Good," Quinn smiled. "Well, that's… great! We're still girlfriends, right?"
"Yes," Santana closed her eyes and beamed. How did she get so lucky? "It's an amazing feeling. No one has ever made me feel the way you made me feel before, Quinn."
"Same here, Santana. You are so amazing," Quinn cooed and leaned in to peck the brunette.
Quinn moved back after a second, but Santana chased the blonde's lips and connected their lips again. Soon, they were kissing fervently, and everything disappeared, except for Santana, and Quinn.
It had now been three days since… that night. The night that Santana was sure that she would never forget in her life, the night that made her feel like her head was in the clouds and she was weightless. It had been three days, and Santana could still not find an adjective that did how she felt then justice.
They had done the deed once more these past few days, and that was the night straight after their first night together. Santana moved with more fluidity and confidence than the first time, and she managed to make Quinn scream.
It was truly one of the proudest moments of Santana's life. To know that you are making the one you love to feel that way, it is truly amazing, it is a phenomenal feeling.
Santana knew that she still had not confessed that she loved Quinn yet, but that wa because she didn't want to scare the blonde off, and plus, she had no idea if Quinn's feelings for the brunette were this deep yet. After all, it was still relatively early in their relationship, so there was still time for both of them to develop even stronger feelings for each other. Yet, Santana was pretty sure that she was falling deeper and deeper for the blonde with each passing day, that she was falling in love with her. She just hoped that their relationship lasted long enough for Quinn to say that she loved her back. Her pessimistic side kept telling her that a break up was inevitable, because these sorts of romances are technically frowned upon and forbidden, but she didn't listen to it. She didn't need any negativity in her life; it did no good.
Santana closed her eyes and dreamed of the moment when the words 'I love you, Santana' came out of Quinn's mouth. She could almost hear it in her voice… When that actually happens, if it happens, she will die of happiness, Santana was pretty sure.
She was so lost in that thought that when someone's voice suddenly piped up, she jumped a foot into the air.
"Santana," it was not Quinn's voice. That could only mean one thing.
Fearfully, Santana turned around to face the steel-cold blue eyes that seemed to be penetrating, calculating, and dangerous all at the same time.
"Santana," Mr Fabray said again, clearly waiting for some kind of response.
Santana's mouth went dry. She didn't know what to do. She was alone, just minding her own business, and she was cornered now. Mr Fabray was blocking the way of escape, and Santana had no idea what he had in store for her.
When he gave up trying to get Santana to respond, he said formally, "I believe that you are aware of what happened to Brittany. So, from now on, you are to do all her duties."
He looked like he wanted to say something more, but then Quinn burst into the room. She went straight past Mr Fabray and to Santana's side, standing protectively in front of her.
"What are you doing?" she says, posture poised as if she was about to attack.
"Just talking to your slave here," Mr Fabray shrugged. "Since it is so obvious that you don't want me talking to her, I'll just leave."
Santana held her breath until Mr Fabray disappeared behind the door. But then Mr Fabray popped his head back and added, "No excuses." And then he left for real.
Quinn stood there, alert, for another minute or so, and when she was confident that Mr Fabray was not going to come back, she let her guard down slightly and turned to Santana, expression tender and caring.
"Are you alright?" she said softly, a little worried.
"Yeah," Santana gulped at their close proximity. "He didn't do anything, don't worry."
"You sure? What did he say?" Quinn said, still concerned.
"He just told me to do all of Brittany's chores," Santana sighed. She couldn't really be bothered: the prospect alone made her feel tired. "Guess he is not getting another one from the market, then."
"That's outrageous," Quinn said angrily. "He has no right, you're not his property. Don't do them, you don't have to. If Jake is not happy with that, then he'll have to suck it up, won't he?"
"It's fine," Santana replied. "I don't want to get both of us in trouble. And plus, ever since Brittany got thrown out I've been doing all the cooking and laundry. So, it won't really make much of a difference."
"It's still not fair to you," Quinn pouted. "This shouldn't be your burden."
"It shouldn't have been Brittany's in the first place," Santana shrugged. "Seriously, I've done worse before. I'll be fine."
"Well," Quinn mumbled. "If that is the case, I'm doing it with you."
"No, you don't have to," Santana put up a hand. "Seriously, I'll be fine –"
"I want to!" Quinn raised her voice and Santana flinched a little bit at the unexpected outburst. "Sorry, it's just that, um, I'm kind of looking for excuses to spend more time with you?" Quinn looked up shyly with hope in her eyes.
Santana laughed. "Well, why didn't you tell me that earlier?" she chuckled, slapping the blonde playfully on the arm. "If that is the case, then you are more than welcome to help. I kind of want some company too."
"And… voila. Will you look at that," Santana said light-heartedly as she, along with Quinn, entered the kitchen.
Quinn gaped at the sight in front of her. "What on earth? What happened here?"
"Well," Santana smirked slyly. "I may have neglected to do all the dishes over the past few days, and we may have quite a bit of a job ahead of us."
"Ugh," Quinn groaned. "Seriously? Since when did we have this many plates?"
"You are in one hell of a rich family," Santana replied. "I probably shouldn't have let it all build up like this. Do you smell it?"
"Smell what?" Quinn frowned slightly, but then the scent diffused to where she was standing.
"Yep," Santana smiled as Quinn grimaced and started to gag. "That is the smell of food rotting for three days."
"That is grim," Quinn choked. "So we better wash all this up, shouldn't we? This is not going to be fun."
"No, it isn't," Santana echoed. "You don't have to do it, if you don't want to. You can like, watch me or something. I'm pretty badass when it comes to this kind of stuff."
"That's unfair on you," Quinn said. "I think I need to start taking on some responsibility. I'm nearly an adult now, and I have washed the dishes like twice in my life. I need this."
"Well, if you say so," Santana said as she walked towards the smelly plates, bowls, and cutlery. "I think that we should have some form of a system as we wash. Makes the job more efficient, you know?"
"Like… division of labour?" Quinn asked.
"Bullseye," Santana said. "So, do you want to wash or dry?"
Quinn eyed the plates apprehensively, probably at all the grease that was on it.
"Uh…" she faltered, still unable to come up with a coherent response after a while.
"I'm guessing you don't want to touch it, as it's disgusting? That's okay," Santana said. "I'll wash, you dry, that sound good?"
"Yeah," Quinn agreed, nodding her head. "Anything to not touch… that."
With that, the two girls started to work diligently. At first, they were slightly slow, because Santana was used to working by herself and Quinn had barely done any of this sort of thing before. But as time went on, they started to get into a steady rhythm and soon, the drying rack was starting to build up with plates, fast.
"You see this?" Santana spun a shiny plate up into the air that she had just washed. It came down, and Santana caught it with the tip of her index finger, so that it balanced on top of it and continued to spin, a little bit like a basketball. "Skilled fingers."
"Ooh, I certainly have no doubts about that," Quinn teased. "Let me try," she said, grabbing the plate off the tip of the brunette's finger. "So, um, how do you do it?"
"Twist it as you throw it up so that it spins, and aim for the centre of the plate with your index," Santana explained.
"Okay…" Quinn threw the plate up to about a foot and she tried to catch it with a finger, but then she missed the centre and the plate came tumbling down onto the floor.
Quinn squealed, no doubt waiting for the imminent shatter of the plate, but the crash never came. Santana caught the plate before it could hit the ground, because no offense to Quinn, she kind of saw it coming.
"My fingers are superior," Santana smirked, spinning the plate on her fingertip again.
"No they are not!" Quinn argued.
"Are so," Santana taunted.
"Are not!"
"Are so!"
"Are not!" Quinn shouted, and she reached over to the sink and splashed a handful of water on Santana's face. Santana, clearly caught off guard by this, lost her grip on the plate and it dropped onto the floor. Miraculously, it did not shatter.
Santana bent down and retrieved the plate, putting it on the rack before she broke it for real. Then she turned slowly to meet Quinn's amused blue eyes.
"You did not just did that," Santana said slowly, quiet in warning.
"Maybe I just did," Quinn was trying hard to suppress her smile.
In retaliation, Santana grabbed a handful of water and chucked it towards Quinn's face, who squealed and flinched to get away, but could not keep her face from being splashed.
She wiped the water away from her face and turned to meet Santana's gaze again with a devilish smirk.
"Oh, it's on," she said, switching on the tap this time and collecting two hands' worth of water, and pouring it all the way down Santana's front, inside her shirt.
Santana gasped at the coldness of the water. "How could you?" her voice ended up being a raspy whisper. She lifted her shirt slightly and quite a lot of water leaked out the bottom. "You are going to pay for this!"
With that, Santana grabbed a cup from the rack, filled it with water. But when she turned around, Quinn was already getting out of there.
"Not so fast!" Santana shouted after her, and chasing her. She caught up quickly, before Quinn had even left the kitchen, and poured the cupful of water straight down her neck, down her back, leaving her drenched.
"That is cold!" Quinn squeaked as Santana grinned triumphantly. "Fine. You want to play dirty? I'll give you dirty!" she said, and ducked beneath the brunette's arms to get back. Santana followed, wanting to prevent her from getting too much water to splash, but when she got there, Quinn suddenly turned around without getting any water and smeared Santana's entire face with foam with the sponge.
"Gah!" Santana cried, wiping at her face to get rid of the foam. "You! Come back here!" she hollered when Quinn dashed away, giggling hysterically.
Santana grabbed a saucepan and filled it with water. Hurry up, hurry up, she told the tap. Every second was precious, Quinn was getting away!
When it was about half-full, it was satisfactory for Santana so she turned off the tap and turned to see where Quinn had gone. When she couldn't make out where the blonde was, she moved to go out of the kitchen, fully intent on getting payback, but she suddenly felt something splash her back.
"Surprise!" Quinn yelled giddily, holding a half-empty bag of flour.
Did Quinn really just throw flour on her? Oh, she is going to pay. So. Hard.
Santana emptied the contents of the entire saucepan on the blonde, who was standing a little too close to be safe. Quinn screamed when the cold water drenched her from head to toe.
"Hey! No fair!" she squeaked as she batted at her face and hair, trying to get rid of all the water.
"Is fair!" Santana argued, going back to get more water.
Quinn moved forward to stop her, but before she could she slipped on the wet floor and started to fall.
Santana saw what was going on, and not wanting to see her girlfriend hurt she turned back around and surged forward.
Quinn landed in Santana's arms, but the force of Quinn's weight was enough to send them both tumbling forward and onto the wet ground.
Santana was on top of Quinn, staring right down at her, both of them breathing heavily.
"I think that we just made a mess," Quinn whispered.
"And who's fault is that?" Santana grinned, not moving from her position on top of the blonde.
"Shut up," Quinn said, blushing slightly.
Quinn was soaked from head to toe, so her clothes were hugging tightly to her figure, showing all the curves that Santana liked so much. Santana suddenly felt arousal pooling between her legs again, and she did little to stop what her body is instinctively telling her to do. She dove down and connected her lips with the blonde's in a searing kiss.
"Mm," Quinn moaned when Santana prodded her tongue on the blonde's lower lip.
They were about the same height, so Santana's hips were right on top of the blonde's. Taking advantage of that, she ground down on the blonde forcefully, creating that delicious friction that she loved so much. She just couldn't stop the moan that escaped her mouth when a juicy wave of ecstasy shot through her system.
"Ugh," Quinn's voice was breathy and husky. Santana opened her eyes and continued to grind, and she could see Quinn's eyes turn an almost dark brown shade, darkened with lust and arousal. "San," she panted. "We should take this upstairs."
"Yeah, we probably should," Santana agreed reluctantly, and much to the protest of her body, she got up from the blonde. She was instantly craving more. "Come," she ordered, grabbing one of Quinn's hands and leading her upstairs to the blonde's bedroom. She'll deal with the mess later, that is a problem for another time.
Quinn couldn't stop giggling the whole way up, and when they finally shut the door behind them in Quinn's room, Santana pushed the blonde onto the bed.
"Ooh, assertive, I like it," Quinn winked when Santana slid up her body, back to the position they were in just downstairs in the kitchen.
"That's me," Santana husked seductively before she started to undulate her hips in a rhythm, sending shocks of pleasure through her system every time her hips went down.
Quinn's moans got breathier, louder, and more erratic. She pulled at Santana's shirt.
"Off," she commanded, and Santana complied instantly. Soon Quinn's shirt was off too, and the two girls were back to kissing with ardour.
They were so lost in their pleasure that they did not hear the sound of footsteps up the stairs.
"Quinn, what the hell is that mess downstairs?"
Santana froze as she heard the voice, but before she could do anything about it, the door opened.
"Get your slave to clean it – what the fuck?"