Thank you to the lovely follower Dunphy for pointing out a flaw in my story ;) I truly want to be as consistent and accurate as possible so I'm seriously extremely grateful! I think I've managed to dig my way out of that hole... Also, thank you for all the comments and reviews!
P.S. I ship Quinn and Santana harder than any 2 characters ever, but come on...BRITTANA WEDDING :)))))))
The alarm clock sounded like a gunshot as it began to go off, blaring around the room. Santana lashed out at it angrily with her hand as she swatted it off her nightstand, sending it crashing to the ground. It fell with a loud thud and Santana was only happy her act of aggression had shut the thing up. She groaned and buried deeper into her blankets. She had been up for no more than 30 seconds and Santana already knew it was going to be a long day. Her head was still pounding rapidly from the aftermath of the alcohol she consumed yesterday, and her body felt like it was one fire, her bones aching.
"Morning," a cheerful voice said from the other side of the bed, and the shock of it sent Santana jumping and rolling off of the bed as she dragged the covers down with her. She stood up slowly, irritably, and blew a few strands of hair from her face.
"Jesus, Britt," Santana said and clutched at her chest trying to slow her heart rate down, "at least give me some warning when you're there. Damn. I thought you had to work today."
Brittany giggled and sprawled out on the now vacant bed. "Sorry. The studio's closed for repairs, so I'm free all day. And you're just really cute when you sleep. You don't seem as…mean. Or angry." She looked at Santana with her big, blue eyes.
Even though she was in a real, devoted relationship with Sam, Brittany had a tendency to say and do things that made Santana a bit uncomfortable. Watching Santana sleep was only one of them. Brittany would unexpectedly come up behind Santana and hug her from the back as she nuzzled her face in Santana's neck. She would randomly tuck lose pieces of hair behind Santana's ear, or help zip up Santana's dress, her fingers ghosting across Santana's bare back sending shivers down her spine. And maybe Santana was merely overreacting; maybe Brittany was coming at these things as a best friend—she always had been a touchy/feely kind of person—but Santana didn't necessarily like being that close to the girl she had once called the love of her life.
As she sat back down on the edge of the bed Santana sighed and tried to fix her disheveled hair by running her hands through it. "Yeah well, that's because I'm not completely surrounded by idiots when I'm sleeping like I am when I'm awake."
Brittany rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "You should stop focusing on the bad things in life and start looking for the rainbows and unicorns. It's a lot better like that." Santana smiled and nodded her head acting like she understood exactly what Brittany meant by that.
"I'll try, Britt," Santana replied. "Is there a particular reason you were waiting for me to wake up?"
"Oh yeah. Sam had an early magazine shoot today, so I was going to suggest we go get breakfast or something. I know how hungry you get after a night of partying." She said it with a knowing smile and Santana was reminded of one of the many reasons why she loved Brittany: she truly was one of the sweetest, most thoughtful, genuine people to ever grace the earth with their presence.
What's up with everyone wanting to get breakfast with me all of a sudden? Damn, Santana thought, remembering Rachel's original intentions from the day before. Must be my irresistible charm, obviously.
Santana reached down between the bed and nightstand to retrieve the alarm clock she had attacked minutes ago and put it back in place, thankful it wasn't broken. She saw the time and felt a wave of panic when she realized she was already running a little late for her dat—get together, she reprimanded herself, with Quinn. Santana looked at Brittany guiltily.
"I'm sorry, Britt. I'd love to, but I kind of already…have plans."
A puzzled expression made its way onto Brittany's face. "But it's 8:30 in the morning, San. How do you already have plans?"
Santana began playing with her hands in her lap—this was exactly the conversation she wanted to avoid. She wasn't ready to talk about Quinn with Brittany. "I'm going to get coffee with a friend."
"What, like a date?" Brittany asked, and Santana could tell she was having trouble understanding.
"No, Brittany, not a date," she hastened to set the girl straight. "I ran into Quinn a couple of days ago and we didn't have a lot of time to catch up, so we decided to get coffee." It wasn't a complete lie; Santana and Quinn weren't able to thoroughly and completely catch up, and it most definitely was not a date.
Brittany cocked her head sideways in confusion. "Quinn? That midget, blonde Cheerio with a really round head who tried to take over everything after all of you guys graduated?"
"No, Brittany," Santana said as she ground her teeth together, trying to suppress the impending anger. Brittany may be one of the sweetest people to ever exist, but her ditzy-ness was sometimes enough to drive a person crazy. "Quinn. Quinn Fabray. The last 1/3 of the Unholy Trinity?"
Santana saw the lightbulb go off in Brittany's head and sighed in relief.
"Oh! Quinn who fell into the ashtray during senior year Quinn. Got it." Brittany nodded and grinned widely, clearly pleased with her deduction skills.
Santana got up from the bed and made her way to the closet. "Yeah, and I'm already running late. I'm supposed to meet her in," she glanced at the clock quickly, "like, 30 minutes. Crap."
"Speaking of crap, you look like you went swimming in alcohol last night, San. You look awful. No offense." Brittany sat up on the bed and watched as Santana searched through her clothes.
"Okay, well, I got a total of 3 hours of sleep last night. Cut me some slack." She took a pair of white skinny jeans off the hanger and a black V-neck to go with them and walked into the bathroom.
"So," Brittany began loudly so Santana could hear her from the other room, "you went out and partied last night, probably got your sweet lady kisses on with some girl, and now you're going on a date with Quinn?" She was truly perplexed by the situation—not that that was a surpise.
Santana came back into the bedroom fully clothed. Fuck. For being so erratic and whimsical Brittany sure didn't miss a thing sometimes.
"It's not a date, Britt, I already told you," Santana said in the firmest voice she could muster. "But," she added in a lighter tone as she sat on the end of the bed and began to lace up her Converse, "it was actually two girls." She threw a wink at Brittany and grinned. The blonde girl knit her eyebrows together in confusion but didn't say anything.
Santana stood up and looked at herself in the mirror: Brittany was right, she did look like she had a rough night. Though her makeup had, for the most part, remained intact, there were slight bags under her eyes and her skin looked a little paler than usual. There had been worse nights, though, so Santana was relatively pleased with what she saw. She didn't look entirely hung-over. Just slightly. Besides, this wasn't a date and she didn't have anyone to impress.
"Alright, Britt, I really have to go now. I'll see you later. And don't forget, if you make tea, you have to turn the burner on the stove off after you're done." Santana looked at Brittany's reflection through the mirror and was surprised to see a look of hurt on her face. No matter what happened, the last thing Santana ever wanted to do was hurt Brittany. She still loved the girl—maybe not in the same way she once did, but she would still do anything to make Brittany happy.
Santana walked over to her and kissed her on the forehead. "I'll be home after a while. Call Berry or Kurt, maybe they'll come over and watch Disney movies with you." Brittany brightened up at the idea and Santana smiled.
"Tell Quinn I said hi," Brittany said.
"I will, Britt. See you later." Santana walked out of the room, leaving Brittany on the bed playing with her phone.
One blonde down, one to go.
"You look terrible."
Santana slid into the booth where Quinn was waiting for her with a roll of her eyes. When she had arrived at the coffee shop—a little place in lower Manhattan you wouldn't know even existed unless you had a psychic, Mexican third eye that could detect the world's best cup of coffee—and Quinn had already been there. She had quickly ordered her usual and made her way over to the girl.
"And I still look better than you, Fabray," Santana said with a smirk. Not even close to being true, Santana thought to herself as she gave Quinn a once-over glance. Her hair was straight today and she was wearing one of her customary sundresses; it was a gentle blue color that contrasted with her striking eyes magnificently. It was 9:30 in the morning and the blonde already looked like a goddess from your wildest dreams.
Quinn ignored Santana's wisecrack. "Rough night?" she asked with a slight, meaningful smile.
Santana was about to answer with a quick "no" but a chair on the other side of the room scraped against the floor and the sound reverberated through her skull making her wince in pain. Quinn chuckled.
"Awe poor baby," she said with mock sympathy, looking at Santana with wide eyes.
"Hmm," Santana hummed in response as she picked up her coffee to take a sip. Her eyes landed on Quinn's bag lying next to her on the bench; it looked to be filled to the point where it was almost ripping at the seams, and Santana could tell it was heavy. "What's in the bag?"
Quinn shrugged her shoulders. "Textbooks. I have to go to the library once we're done here."
Santana furrowed her brow. "The library? They make you work at the library when you're a lawyer?"
"No," Quinn replied simply, "I have a test tomorrow."
"They give you tests when you're a lawyer?" Santana felt like she had completely missed something.
Quinn smiled. "It's not for work, Santana, it's for school."
"School?" Santana asked blankly. She had definitely missed something. "I thought you said you graduated?"
"I did," Quinn nodded in agreement, "From Yale."
"Well what the hell does that mean?"
"A person doesn't become a lawyer in just 4 years, Santana. Even I can't do that," Quinn answered in a haughty voice, and even though she was smiling warmly, Santana caught a momentary glimpse of the old Quinn—the Quinn she would have slapped in a heartbeat, even if they were in a public place.
"Okay, so if you're not at Yale, but you're still in school, you currently attend…?" Santana trailed off, prompting Quinn to help her out.
"Columbia," Quinn said simply as if it was the most obvious thing ever.
Santana gawked at her. "Jeeze, Q, are you just making your rounds with the Ivy League schools? What's next? Princeton? Harvard?" Santana was only half joking. Quinn blinked a few times in surprise, taken aback by Santana's casual use of her old nickname.
She shook her head trying to straighten out her thoughts. "No, no, definitely not. I'm done after Columbia, don't worry."
"How many years do you have left?"
Quinn picked up her coffee and took a drink. She held up three long, slender fingers in reply and Santana nodded in acknowledgement before going quiet.
Santana suddenly narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "I thought you had a job?" she inquired.
"I do. Well, technically."
"Could you be more vague, Blondie?"
Quinn giggled, sending a familiar wave of tingles crashing over Santana's skin. "I guess you can't really consider it a 'job' job. It's more of an internship. One of my professors is one of the most popular DA's around the city and she picked 4 students to basically shadow her all year long. We get to go to court with her and be there when she questions the witnesses, but she also asks for a lot of input from us. I can't even count the times we've had to stay up all night rifling through every one of the books in the library trying to come up with a plausible defense for our client." Her voice was soft and casual, but Santana couldn't wrap her head around what Quinn was saying—it was all too impressive.
"Quinn, I just…I don't even know what to say to you. That's awesome." Santana smiled a genuine smile and Quinn gave her one in return.
"Thank you," she said.
"Are you just saying and doing all of these things to try and impress me?" Santana joked.
"No," Quinn answered with a shake of her head. "If I wanted to impress you I would do something much different," she said smoothly in her voice that was so sexy in itself it should be illegal—or so Santana would say. Quinn was biting her bottom lip, a sly twinkle in her eyes. Santana's own eyes widened in shock as she felt her heartrate increase exponentially.
"Right," she responded quietly, not knowing what else to say. Santana avoided looking Quinn in the eyes, fully aware that she would be totally lost if she did. Her thoughts were now filled with nothing but the lone night with Quinn 3 years ago. Santana didn't understand how one, single night could change your whole perspective of a person—especially when that person was Quinn Fabray. She had always thought Quinn was attractive, she wasn't proud enough to deny that. But Santana had never thought of her in an actual, romantic manner until Mr. Schue's crap wedding. And now that was the only way she could see Quinn. Being able to kiss her whenever she wanted, being able to reach over and grab her hand…Santana couldn't think of anything she wanted more at the moment. It felt like she couldn't control her thoughts or her feelings towards Quinn. And Santana Lopez hated feeling out of control.
"I have a question," Quinn stated abruptly as she pulled Santana out of her thoughts.
"What's that?" Santana asked, taking another sip of her coffee.
"Well," Quinn began while she clasped her hands together on the table, "I was thinking about what you said the other day on the train." Santana's heart launched itself into overdrive again and she racked her brains thinking about every little thing she had said. "I know you said you found the bookstore a while ago, but I was kind of just wondering how you found it? I mean, Yale's not exactly in your backyard. So you were obviously in New Haven for a reason, and I was curious as to what that reason was?"
Santana thought she was about to enter into cardiac arrest as she tried to control her breathing. Crap, crap, crap, she said to herself. She had been hoping she would never have to face this question. But of course Quinn picked up on Santana being in New Haven for undisclosed reasons. Of fucking course.
"Uhh…umm…ahh…yeah about that," Santana spluttered, unable to form a coherent sentence. Quinn raised her eyebrows.
"You know, for liking girls so much you sort of suck at talking to them," Quinn teased gently with a smile. Santana shot her a half grin in return, not trusting her voice just yet. Quinn waited patiently until Santana sifted through her thoughts. Santana finally decided there was no way to avoid the question at hand and sighed resignedly.
Santana could hear her heartbeat pounding loudly in her ears and vaguely wondered if Quinn could actually see her heart hammering through her chest. She cleared her throat before starting. "Umm, well, you know how people always say you only need 30 seconds of insane courage to make something incredible happen?" Quinn nodded but said nothing so Santana continued, "Okay, well, my 30 seconds of insane courage came 2 weeks after we saw each other at Mr. Schue's wedding. Uhh, I'm not completely sure why, but I couldn't really stop thinking about what happened between us. Maybe I was still trying to get over Brittany, I don't know. But I kind of felt the need to…see you again. And talk to you. I didn't really have a plan, but one day after class I just hopped on a train to New Haven. My 30 seconds of courage, however, ran out when I stepped off onto the platform in Connecticut. I didn't know what I would do when I saw you or what I would say. I didn't even know if you would want to see me, so I just ditched the whole idea. I started walking around town to try and clear my mind and everything, and that's how I stumbled upon the bookstore."
Santana averted Quinn's eyes her entire speech, but now she chanced a glance at them. They were gentle and kind, and Santana felt overwhelmed with emotion. She moved her eyes back to her fiddling hands in her lap. She had nervous energy and started to regret admitting the truth.
"You could have called me, you know," Quinn eventually said quietly. Santana looked up and there was a smile playing on the edges of Quinn's lips. "I would have loved to see you."
"Really?" Santana asked, trying not to let desperation weigh down her voice.
"Really," Quinn affirmed with a nod and Santana felt her heart soar.
"I just…you know…didn't know if you regretted what happened or anything…" Santana told her.
Quinn scrunched up her face in confusion. "Is that what you thought? That I regretted it?"
Santana chewed on her bottom lip as she thought about the best way to respond. "I honestly didn't know. I mean you…you're Quinn and I'm me and…I don't know. I don't think anyone ever expected it to happen."
"I didn't. Regret it, I mean. Not for a single second." Quinn's voice firm, but it didn't lose its natural softness. Santana nodded as she began to think about what everything meant—but a weight definitely seemed to be lifted off her chest upon hearing Quinn admit she had no regrets. "Did you?" Quinn asked and Santana thought she could sense hesitancy behind the question. Or fear.
"What? No!" she said loudly. Santana needed Quinn to know she wasn't merely a rebound hookup that night—even if that's technically what she started out as. "No, Quinn," Santana said as she lowered her voice, "I promise you. I didn't regret it. I don't."
Quinn smiled slightly and looked away. Santana's heart was still racing and her skin was layered in goose bumps as it so often was in Quinn's presence, but she was pleased with how the situation was going.
"What do you think you would have said to me had you seen me in New Haven?" Quinn inquired, her eyes returning to Santana's. "I know you said you didn't have a plan, but if you had to venture a guess, what do you think you would have said?"
Santana tilted her head in thought. "I probably would have asked you if you wanted to make it a three time thing," she replied honestly with a sheepish smile. "I'm not super good with words or emotions—unless it's an insult—as I have proven to you today, so I would've kept it simple. Short and sweet."
"Yes, because that is incredibly sweet," Quinn joked.
"Whatever, I'm just trying to be honest with you."
"Santana Lopez being honest. I like it," she said, her hazel eyes sparkling and Santana felt her skin heat up.
"Can I ask you something?" Santana said in a quiet voice.
"Of course."
"Why didn't you call afterwards? Or text me? Or tell me you moved to New York City, for that matter. I spent all that time wondering if you hated me for what happened…" Santana trailed off.
Quinn suddenly reached across the table and grabbed Santana's hand. The gesture sent a shock through Santana's body and her breath hitched in her throat.
"Hey," Quinn said gently, and Santana locked eyes with her, "Santana, I could never hate you for what happened. It's not like you forced me into bed with you. I got in willingly. Incredibly willingly, to be honest. I didn't call you after it happened because I was scared. I mean, I shouldn't be having any kind of feelings towards Santana Lopez of all people. I figured what happened that night didn't mean anything to you. Not because you're a terrible person or because I hated you, but because it was me. You said it yourself; it was you and it was me. It was us. And no, I didn't regret it. I still don't, but I just assumed you did."
"You're an ass," Santana stated, but she was smiling. "Of course it meant something to me, Quinn. Maybe I should have told you the morning after, but it meant more to me than you will ever know."
"So I wasn't just a rebound?" Quinn asked in a small voice, and Santana felt a twinge of guilt.
She stared at their clasped hands as she answered. "I'd be lying if I said it didn't start out that way. Brittany was there with Sam, and it was so soon after we broke up and everything. I was pissed and lonely and hurt. But I swear, Quinn," Santana said in a firm voice as she gripped Quinn's hand tighter, "it didn't end up like that. Somewhere along the way I realized I wasn't going to regret sleeping with you. At first I figured it was just the alcohol talking, but eventually I discovered it was more than that. So much more. And then we walked away from each other."
Quinn nodded absentmindedly. "And then we walked away from each other," she repeated in a distant voice. "Maybe we shouldn't have done that." She looked at Santana and smiled.
"We definitely should not have done that," Santana agreed.
"We're here now, though. In the same city and everything," Quinn pointed out.
"And what does that mean exactly?"
Quinn cocked her head to the side looking thoughtful. "Whatever we want it to mean."
Santana scoffed. "Helpful, Quinn, real helpful."
Quinn rolled her eyes and grinned. "Fine. It means that, if we are both willing, we could give this thing a shot. I'm not saying it's going to work, Santana, because as we've already established, it's us. And we have quite the history. But I do know that for the past 3 years, I haven't been able to go on a single date without wondering what you were doing at that very moment."
All of the hesitancy and resistance Santana had built up regarding her feelings for Quinn melted away in an instant. Her heart swelled at Quinn's last words.
"And if I'm being honest, my one night stands have all been driven by my need to get you the hell out of my mind." She wasn't as eloquent as Quinn, but she knew the girl would get the gist of it.
"Good to know," Quinn responded. "So, we're agreed then? We'll see where this whole thing takes us?"
Santana nodded. "Absolutely. But, just so you know," she added with a broad smile, "I am willing to do whatever it takes to make this work between us. I want you to know I'm in this for real, Quinn. I don't usually do relationships, but I think I can make an exception for you."
"So freaking charming," Quinn said, her grin widening. "We'll take things slowly…"
"Or we could just jump right into things?" Santana suggested with a smirk.
"We will take things slowly," Quinn repeated in a stronger, firmer voice.
Santana laughed at the expression on Quinn's face. She's so damn cute when she's trying to be responsible and sensible. And when she's doing everything else. Ugh.
"Okay," Santana conceded. "We will take things slowly."
"Thank you," Quinn said with a smile. "But, unfortunately, I have to be go now; my study group is meeting in a little while." She threw her bag over her shoulder and looked at Santana, who was now pouting.
"Don't go," she whined, sticking her bottom lip out for effect.
"You're cute when you're moping," Quinn told her. Santana felt her breath catch in her throat—it was the first time either of the girls had said words like that out loud to each other.
But she rolled her eyes. "I am not cute."
"Oh, but you are. So very cute." Quinn wiggled her eyebrows, daring Santana to challenge her.
"Whatever," Santana huffed. She removed her hand from Quinn's grasp and crossed her arms. Her reaction elicited a laugh from Quinn as she stood up from the booth.
"This has been lovely, Santana, and I'm sorry I have to go so quickly. But," she said as she turned to leave, "I will talk to you later. That's a promise." Quinn grinned at her one last time before heading towards the door.
"Hey, Fabray!" Santana called. Quinn turned around, eyebrows raised in question. "It's your turn to call me this time." Santana winked at her.
"Your wish is my command," Quinn answered, and Santana could see her eyes sparkle from 15 yards away. With that, she turned on her heel and strode out of the coffee shop, leaving a very satisfied Santana behind.