Sorry it's rather long ;) Enjoy!
"Hey hot stuff, mind getting me a refill?"
Santana stood up from restocking glasses under the bar and found herself face to face with a short brunette girl who had a repugnant amount of makeup on, and was clad in a tight red dress. She was grinning slyly at Santana in what could only be assumed as an attempt at seduction.
"Yeah, sure," Santana responded. "What are you drinking?"
"Moscow Mule," the girl told her in a sultry voice. Santana nodded and spun around to collect the necessary alcohol from the counter in the middle of the bar.
As she turned around again and began mixing the drink, Santana could see the brunette girl checking her out and she couldn't completely blame her; Santana's tight black jeans hugged her legs and hips in all of the right places, her white tank top showed just the appropriate amount of cleavage while leaving just a little to the imagination, and her leather jacket topped off the simple sexiness of the outfit. Santana knew she looked good; good enough to make anyone—guy or girl—start drooling as soon as they saw her.
"You're pretty good with your hands," the brunette said as she watched Santana quickly and deftly pour and stir her drink. "It makes me wonder what else you can do with them." Santana glanced up and saw a devilish glint in the girl's heavily mascara-ed eyes. Santana slid the standard copper mug the drink is served in over the bar to her with a smirk.
"Please," Santana scoffed, "you have no idea who you're talking to."
The brunette leaned on the countertop, resting her head in the palms of her hands. "Why don't you show me then?" Santana could smell the alcohol on the girl's breath and was repulsed.
"Why don't you go talk to someone you actually stand a chance with?" Santana suggested to her. She was trying to be civil towards the girl, but her patience was dwindling quickly.
"You're saying I don't have a chance with you?" the brunette asked as she smiled seductively, showing her teeth.
"I'm saying," Santana began sweetly, "your makeup, which looks like it was applied by a blind clown who was experiencing an epileptic episode by the way, and your dress that makes it look like you have an excessive amount of back fat are literally causing me physical pain. I mean, I may have to actually call a psychiatrist in order to come back from just the sight of you."
The girl's jaw dropped in shock and Santana grinned with pleasure.
"Bitch," the brunette muttered. She grabbed her drink and walked off, disappearing among the throngs of people in the bar.
Santana continued to smile as she grabbed a towel and began to wipe down countertop. She was used to people—people of both genders—hitting on her as she worked. It basically came with the territory of being a bartender. People would be drinking all night long and stagger up to her, thinking she was the most beautiful human being on the earth. Lost and lonely souls would sit at the counter of the bar for hours on end, seeking her company even though they didn't even know her. Sometimes, if the person was up to Santana's standards, she would indulge them for a little while, stringing them along until she politely rejected them and turned them down. Most of the time, though, Santana would shut them down before they really got started. She didn't want them getting the wrong idea.
"Did you invite me here just to show me other girls flirt with you?" a soft, calm voice asked from behind Santana. She whipped around at the sound of it.
Quinn stood there with her arms crossed and a look on her face Santana knew all too well; it was the look Quinn Fabray got when she was on a mission—usually one that resulted in vengeance and retribution for those involved. Her eyes were dark, cold, and narrowed in suspicion, and a scowl was etched into her features. A wave of nerves shot through Santana's body. Okay, so maybe not everyone is drooling over my appearance tonight…
It had been just a little over a month since the night on the roof—the night where Santana and Quinn had made things official between them. The two girls had seen each other as much as possible, going to get coffee or walk through Central Park. And, Santana's favorite part about their relationship, they kissed each other whenever and wherever they wanted. School, work, and Quinn's internship had made their get-togethers fleeting and sparse, but they did the best they could whenever they both had free time. Quinn had never seen Santana at work, though, and the flirtatious people were primarily to thank for that. She didn't want her girlfriend—because yes, that's what Quinn finally was—seeing the inebriated, senseless people who hit on her. Santana knew that it more than likely wouldn't end well, and wished to just avoid the whole situation. However, that desire had finally come to an end.
"No," Santana started as she made her way over to Quinn, with only the counter separating the two girls, "I invited you here so you could take me home when I'm done." She smiled her most charming smile and batted her eyelashes. "Home" meant Quinn's apartment; they had yet to really spend time at the loft because Santana was still avoiding a certain conversation with Brittany. The conversation that had the potential to send Santana and Brittany's relationship up in flames, and Santana wasn't ready for that.
But Santana wanted to ease the current tension with Quinn as quickly as she could. "You look nice," she added as her eyes gazed up and down Quinn's body, and she meant it: Quinn was wearing a black pencil skirt, a white blouse, and a long, royal blue sweater. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail, showing off her prominent jawline and cheekbones. Santana guessed she had just come from her job with the district attorney.
Quinn ignored the compliment. "It's Friday night. You never come over on Friday nights. You're usually working and then too tired."
"Quinn," Santana sighed, "I haven't seen you in almost 3 whole days." Santana was whining and she knew it was obvious, but she didn't care. "That's totally and completely unfair. Can you blame me for wanting to see my girlfriend? Especially," Santana continued as she leaned her forearms on the counter of the bar looking imploringly at Quinn, "when my girlfriend is as awesome and hot as you are." The corners of Quinn's mouth twitched as she tried to resist the smile and Santana knew the pleading was working. "I am sorry I can't go a couple of days without actually laying my eyes on you. I am sorry that I'm clearly a very needy, very clingy girlfriend who is just looking for your endearment and attention."
"And I'm sorry you're a kiss-ass," Quinn told her, but she was smiling openly now.
"That, too," Santana agreed with a grin and a nod.
Quinn leaned down and rested her own forearms on top of Santana's so their noses grazed each other. She waited a second longer before she lightly pressed her lips against Santana's, conscious of the fact they were still in the middle of a crowded place. Santana felt her mind instantly cloud over with Quinn's scent and she felt as if she had been shocked a hundred times in a row.
That was the thing about kissing Quinn; she had a way of making every single kiss feel like their first one. She made it exhilarating and mind-altering; kissing Quinn had quickly become Santana's favorite thing in the world and she didn't think she would ever tire of the feeling she got when their lips connected.
"Hi," Quinn breathed as she retreated back to look at Santana, who grinned at the simplicity of it all.
"Hi," Santana replied. She stared into Quinn's eyes and was happy to see the darkness and coldness they held a few minutes previously had vanished; they were deep and sparkling and their impossible shade of hazel again. "My shift is over in 20 minutes," she told her.
Quinn nodded and pulled away to sit herself on a bar stool. Santana stood up straight and made her way over to the other side of the counter to grab the towel she had been using earlier and had dropped when she heard Quinn's voice.
"Can I get you anything to drink?" Santana asked Quinn over her shoulder. "I make a mean Long Island Iced Tea."
But Quinn shook her head in response. "No, thanks. I don't really drink anymore." She said it in an offhandedly manner and Santana turned to her, eyebrows raised.
"That wasn't really the case 3 years ago at Mr. Schue's wedding."
"Yeah, well-"
"Oh my god, Santana Lopez!" A shrill, excited voice interrupted Quinn's answer and both girls turned to look at the newcomer. A girl with long brown hair and dull gray eyes had made her way over to the bar and Santana's heart sank at the sight of her. Shit, she thought to herself. "It has been so long!" the girl said loudly.
Not really, Santana corrected the girl mentally. She cleared her throat and swayed back and forth on her feet uncomfortably, well aware of Quinn's sudden fixed gaze on her. "Elaine," Santana murmured weakly.
Elaine, clearly sufficiently beyond tipsy, seemed exceptionally flattered by Santana's short reply. She clasped the one hand that wasn't clutching a beer bottle to her chest. "Wow, I must be better in bed than I thought I was if the one and only, infamous womanizer Santana Lopez remembers me."
If Santana hadn't been so mortified at Elaine's bluntness she probably would have slapped the girl clear across the face as hard as she could. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides and took deep, steadying breaths. As the chagrin began to melt away, her blood boiled and heat flooded her face and Santana looked everywhere but Quinn. She knew what she would see if she looked into her girlfriend's eyes: shock and horror, pain and sadness. God fucking dammit, we had just gotten past the first chick from earlier.
"You should probably go now," Santana told Elaine in a threatening voice. She had no problem with cutting a bitch in public.
"But I just got here!" In her drunken state of mind Elaine evidently couldn't sense the sudden, resurfaced tension between Santana and Quinn. "And I want to know what happened with us. Why did you suddenly stop calling? I thought we had something special."
"Elaine, seriously just-"
"I loved you, you know that? I mean, I really, really loved you, and then you just stopped calling!" Elaine slurred her words slightly, but they came out articulately enough. Santana's eyes widened in surprise and she glanced over at Quinn. The blonde nodded her head once, as if confirming something that had been going through her mind, got up from the stool and began walking towards the door of the bar without looking at Elaine or Santana once. Santana was on the other side of the counter in a second, not wanting Quinn to get too much of a head start. She figured her coworkers could manage without her until the next person came in for their shift—she was only bailing a couple minutes early, and for good reason. She began pushing through the hordes of people, getting more and more irritated by the second and not caring who she hit or what she stepped on. Santana was only vaguely aware of Elaine shouting her name as loudly as she could as she finally reached the exit and flung the doors open.
"Quinn!" she called, frantically looking every which way. When she looked to her left she caught sight of a blonde ponytail and sprinted after it. "Quinn!" Santana was nearing the girl, but she showed no indication of turning around. "Quinn, just wait! Talk to me. Please." Her hand closed in around Quinn's wrist forcing her to turn around.
"What, Santana?" Quinn's eyes flashed dangerously. "What could you possibly have to say to me?"
"That wasn't what it looked like, Quinn, I swear it wasn't," Santana pleaded. Quinn let out a humorless chuckle.
"Oh, really? Then what was it exactly? Please, enlighten me." Quinn pulled her hand out of Santana's grasp and crossed her arms.
Santana sighed and looked down at her feet. She didn't really know how to explain the situation without setting off Quinn; it all came back to her poor decisions made when she felt heartbroken and damaged.
"You do realize," Quinn began when she saw Santana wasn't going to say anything, "that first girl was practically undressing you with her eyes, right? She would have jumped in between your legs right then and there had you let her." Her voice was hard and flat, so unlike the usual gentleness it held.
"That girl wasn't anything, Quinn, okay? She was nothing. Nothing. I didn't even know her," Santana said desperately. She needed Quinn to understand; and more than that, she needed Quinn to be accepting of her past, with its glaring mistakes and all.
"Fine," Quinn stated shortly, "I believe that. I get that. I kind of even expected the whole 'random people flirting with you' thing what with you being a bartender and looking the way you do." If the atmosphere hadn't been so heavy and strained, Santana would have beamed at Quinn's subtle compliment. "But the second one, Elaine," Quinn said the name with so much venom Santana's blood chilled considerably, "she said she was in love with you, Santana! In love with you for God's sake."
Santana looked up at Quinn with a distressed expression. "She was drunk. She probably had no idea what she was saying. I'm sure she won't even remember it tomorrow." She had meant the words to sound firm, but her voice shook slightly with uncertainty.
"And you believe that?" Quinn raised her eyebrows in disbelief. Santana hesitated before shaking her head silently. "Why did you stop calling?"
Santana inclined her head to the side, not understanding. "What do you mean?"
"She said you just stopped calling her, seemingly without explanation. Why?" Quinn kept her voice controlled, but curiosity burned in the question.
"I saw you," Santana answered easily, automatically. It was the truth; the last time she had even spoken to Elaine was the day before Santana saw Quinn on the train. Since then, Santana's focuses had been centered on nothing but the blonde. "I mean, uhh…the train happened. I saw you. And then we hung out and everything and…obviously we started dating, so I kind of just forgot about her."
Quinn's features seemed to soften somewhat, but only slightly. "She was that easy to forget about?"
"She wasn't anything compared to you, if that's what you mean," Santana told Quinn honestly.
Quinn nodded in acknowledgement but said nothing. She turned on her heel and started walking briskly away from her girlfriend. Santana felt her heart sink, thinking Quinn was going to leave her there on the side of the road. She saw Quinn get into her car—a sleek, midnight blue BMW—and start the engine. When Quinn didn't put the car in drive and pull away, Santana took it as a sign to get into the passenger seat. Relief washed over her as she walked over and opened the door, sliding in quickly, and Quinn peeled out of the spot as soon as Santana shut it.
The drive to Quinn's apartment was completely silent. Santana didn't know if she was out of the clear just yet and didn't want to chance ruining everything by saying something stupid. So she kept her mouth shut for the entire half hour, staring blankly out the window.
When they finally reached Quinn's apartment she shut off the car, but made no move to get out. Santana sat with her hands in her lap waiting for the blonde to say something, anything.
"How many?" Quinn asked abruptly. She had her hands still on the steering wheel and was staring out the front windshield.
"How many what?" Santana responded quietly.
"Women, Santana," Quinn said with a sigh. "How many women have there been since we hooked up 3 years ago?"
Santana knew meant Quinn was talking about overall women—not just legitimate, committed relationships. It didn't really matter, though, because Santana had had a total of zero of those. Random hookups, one night stands…Santana felt the shame creep through every portion of her body. She had no idea what the exact number was. Hell, she couldn't even ballpark it. That's how many women there had been.
"A lot," she whispered. Quinn nodded, still not looking at Santana.
Quinn suddenly threw the car door open and got out of the vehicle in one hasty motion. Santana barely had time to register what was happening before she exited on the passenger side and trailed Quinn up the stairs to the building. They walked through the lobby, not even greeting Gary the doorman, and straight to the elevators. The ride up to Quinn's floor passed by in deafening quietness, and Santana wasn't sure if she had ever heard silence that loud.
The elevator doors finally opened and Quinn stalked down the hallway, Santana right behind her. She followed Quinn into the girl's apartment, and Quinn tossed her keys in the bowl on the table beside the door. Santana looked around at the place that had become so familiar to her. It was wide and open, the kitchen sitting off to your left when you walked in, with a big island in the middle of it. To the right there was a couch, an oversized chair, and a lounge chair, and a big flat screen television rested on the wall above the fireplace. The walls were a pale blue color and everything about the apartment screamed Quinn's name—from the piano situated against one wall of the living room to the enormous bookshelf just opposite of it. It was classy, it was elegant, it was refined, and it was totally and completely Quinn's style.
Santana shut the door behind her and then Quinn was suddenly there kissing her, anything but gentle. Quinn pinned Santana against the wall as she crashed their lips together with tremendous force. Her tongue immediately entered Santana's mouth, and Santana whimpered in delight. Her hands found Quinn's hips as she pulled her closer. Quinn's fingers pulled at the sleeves of Santana's jacket and she coaxed it off of her shoulders, throwing it to the ground haphazardly. Her lips moved to trace Santana's jawline and then down her neck. Quinn sucked gently on the pulse point, making Santana shiver with pleasure.
"What are you doing?" Santana gasped. Quinn dragged her lips across Santana's skin until she reached the notch at the bottom of her neck.
"Giving you what you want," she murmured huskily.
"Whoa, Quinn, wait, wait, wait," Santana started as the words registered in her mind. "Quinn," she said in a firmer voice, and grabbed both of Quinn's wrists, holding them to her sides. Quinn removed her lips from Santana's neck and looked at her; the hazel eyes held an unreadable expression and Santana had no clue what the girl was thinking. "For the past month," Santana told her, "you have wanted to take things slowly when it came to what we do physically. And that's fine, Quinn, okay? I'm fine with that. But it isn't just some coincidence you want to rip my clothes off in the same night you see one girl flirt with me and one girl bring up my relationship with her. So we're not doing anything until you tell me what's going on."
"Sex is clearly one of the only ways to your heart," Quinn answered softly. She turned unexpectedly and stormed off down the hall before Santana could even wrap her mind around her answer. She sighed and ran her hands through her hair before following after Quinn. Santana found her in her bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Do you want to explain what that means?" Santana asked as she leaned against the doorframe staring at her girlfriend.
"I can't do this," Quinn whispered, barely audible. Santana felt her breath catch in her throat, and her heart rate sped up. Quinn turned her head to look at Santana. "Tonight reminded me of your history, and I can't just be another one of Santana Lopez's conquests. I can't just wait around until you get bored with me, or someone better comes along and you walk away without a single glance backwards." She moved her eyes down to her hands in her lap.
The words hit Santana like a ton of bricks, and it pained her to think that's what Quinn thought she was to Santana—just an extensive, elaborate tongue and run.
Santana walked quickly over to the bed and sat down beside Quinn. "Quinn Fabray," she said as she put her finger under Quinn's chin to tilt her head up, forcing her to look Santana in the eyes, "you are the farthest thing from a conquest. You are so much more than that."
"But what about Elaine and all those other girls…Santana, I'm sorry, but I cannot end up being just another person you can check off of your 'People I've Fucked' list."
"You are not Elaine or any of those other girls, Quinn. Don't you get that? I can't stress it enough. Before you came along, every girl I took to bed with me didn't mean a damned thing. I didn't care about them. Any of them. You though? Quinn, I care about you so much. More than you know, probably. I will never get tired of you, and there is most definitely no one in the world better than you. I know I can't change what I've done, but my history with any other girl doesn't matter in the slightest. All I want is my future with you." Santana smiled slightly as she rested her forehead against Quinn's. "I need you to believe me."
"I do believe you," Quinn breathed, and she seemed to release all of her uncertainties and insecurities in a single exhale. She closed her eyes and Santana took the opportunity to place a tender kiss on her lips.
"Thank you."
Quinn slowly opened her eyes and smiled faintly. "I'm sorry I overreacted. I should have trusted you."
"Yes, you should have," Santana agreed. "But at the same time, I can't exactly blame you. I don't have the greatest track record. My history with women speaks for itself, so I do understand where you were coming from. And I'm sorry for not putting your mind at ease earlier."
"You're nicer than I remember you being in high school," Quinn joked, her smile widening.
"You always have to ruin the moment, Fabray, damn," Santana said with a shake of her head.
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Quinn replied and her eyes were sparkling brightly. "What I meant to say was, thank you for being so kind and considerate. I appreciate it."
"Much better," Santana answered, grinning broadly.
"Whatever, Lopez."
Quinn shifted on the bed, closer to Santana, and closed the short distance between their lips, her arms encircling Santana's neck and tangling her hands in the raven-colored hair. It started as a small kiss, but it quickly grew bigger. More intense. Santana poked her tongue out and trailed it along Quinn's lip, producing a moan from her. Quinn then moved her lips down Santana's neck, wishing to finish what she started earlier. But this time around, her intentions were pure and genuine. She no longer wanted to sleep with Santana to prove a point; no, it was much more than that. Quinn wanted to show Santana just how much she means to her. She slid Santana's tank top and bra straps to the side, her fingers lingering over Santana's skin, and kissed her tanned shoulder.
"Quinn, we don't have to-"
"Please shut up and remove your clothes." Quinn lifted her head to look at Santana and her eyes were burning with fire and passion; Santana couldn't remember a time when she was more turned on.
Quinn grabbed the hem of Santana's tank top and yanked it over her head, not breaking eye contact with Santana once. As Quinn sought out Santana's lips again, her hands found their way to Santana's bare back. Quinn lightly dragged her fingers softly across the skin, causing goosebumps to arise. She traced Santana's spine upwards until she reached the clip of Santana's bra. In a single swift motion Quinn expertly unclasped the hook, revealing Santana's breasts, her lips still occupied with Santana's. Before Santana knew it, Quinn had slid her bra down and off of her arms and threw it to the floor.
"That was impressive, Q," Santana huffed in between kisses, amazed at how effortlessly her girlfriend had removed the piece of lingerie.
Quinn didn't acknowledge the compliment. "Shoes," she commanded against Santana's lips. Santana obliged by kicking her heels off, and the blonde mimicked the movement.
In the next second Quinn had Santana lying on her back as she hovered over her, straddling the girl's hips. She stripped herself of her sweater and discarded it unceremoniously. Santana reached up to unbutton Quinn's blouse, and Quinn watched Santana's fingers as they moved lithely and nimbly. Within moments Santana had Quinn's shirt off her and on the ground, and Quinn dove down for another kiss. Their bodies were flush against each other now and Santana finally became aware of the unwarranted throbbing between her legs. She had forgotten just how good Quinn's skin felt against hers.
As Quinn attacked Santana's neck with her lips, Santana stretched behind the girl's back to remove her bra. She wasn't as suave as Quinn had been, but she got the job done relatively quickly and threw the article of clothing to the side. Santana's hands roamed all over Quinn's body touching and caressing everywhere they could reach; her skin was pale and smooth, and it looked to be made of porcelain, but it resonated a satisfying heat against Santana's own skin.
Santana moved down to Quinn's skirt and unzipped it. Quinn arched her hips so that Santana could pull it down to her knees, and she hurriedly kicked it off the rest of the way with her feet. Santana hooked a finger around Quinn's lace panties and tugged them down as well, Quinn imitating the same movement as before. Quinn was fully exposed now, and Santana's memory of 3 years ago didn't do the blonde justice. She was breathtakingly beautiful—and Santana doubted if she even knew it.
Quinn didn't stop to let Santana admire her, though. She began to trace her lips down Santana's abdomen; she trailed them through the valley between Santana's breasts, her tongue sticking slightly out to drag along the skin, and past her belly button. The closer Quinn's mouth got to Santana's center, the harder it pulsated and Santana stifled a groan. Her skin simultaneously tingled and burned with desire. Quinn stopped when she got to the top of Santana's jeans. She unfastened the button and shimmied the pants over Santana's hips, partially elevating herself so Santana could fling them off. Quinn started to retrace the path her lips had just traveled, moving them back up Santana's body as she ran her hands up and down Santana's sides.
When Quinn once again reached Santana's neck she nipped softly at the skin with her teeth, and this time Santana couldn't suppress the small whimper that left her lips. One of Quinn's hands made its way to the waistband of Santana's red thong and jerked it down. Santana's hips bucked up at the closeness of Quinn's hand to her core, and she quickly removed the undergarment. As Quinn continued her assault on Santana's neck with lips and teeth, she dipped two fingers into Santana without warning, eliciting a loud gasp from the girl. She began to thrust in and out in a rhythmic, methodical manner; each time she would enter Santana, Quinn would roll her hips into the girl's under her, applying even more pressure.
"Jesus, Quinn," Santana moaned. She pressed her fingers into Quinn's back, yearning for her to be closer, even though it was physically impossible—Quinn was already directly on top of her. Santana could feel Quinn's breasts brush up against hers and groaned again. She was thoroughly in Quinn's control; Quinn was doing whatever she pleased, wherever she pleased, but Santana didn't mind being the one dominated for once. Quinn was making her feel things she didn't even know was possible to feel.
Somehow Quinn was managing to kiss every inch of Santana's chest while maintaining her momentum with the digits inside Santana. Her free hand pursued one of Santana's breasts, cupping and massaging it. She grasped the nipple in between her fingers and tweaked it around, and her lips grazed over the entirety of Santana's neck. Santana had no idea how Quinn was doing it all; it seemed like she was everywhere on Santana's at once, and with every plunge of Quinn's fingers Santana felt herself reaching climax.
"Fuck, okay, fuck," she panted, digging her fingers deeper into Quinn's skin.
With one final, vigorous thrust, Santana exploded with pleasure. Her hips reared up into Quinn's, and the blonde let her ride the high out on her fingers before she removed them. Santana was breathing heavier than she ever had; Quinn kissed her deeply on the lips before rolling over and pulling Santana into her side, wrapping her arms around the girl. Santana snuggled into Quinn, throwing her arms around Quinn's waist and placing her head directly over Quinn's heart listening to the measured sound.
"You okay there, champ?" Quinn asked with a smile. She hadn't spoken since the intimacy started, and her voice was somewhat hoarse and raspy.
"Give me a second," Santana told her, trying to slow her heartrate, and Quinn chuckled.
"Take your time, my lady," Quinn replied as she kissed Santana's hair.
As Santana's breathing began to even out, fatigue began to set in. Man, having an orgasm really takes a lot out of you…though, I've never had an orgasm like that before…
"Okay, I'm good," Santana said. "What the hell was that anyway?"
"What was what?" Quinn inquired, and she began to run her fingers through Santana's long hair.
"Whatever you just did! I mean…damn, Quinn."
"Always the element of surprise," Quinn murmured, now stroking Santana's arm with the hand not occupied in the girl's hair.
Santana started to run her fingers lightly over the muscles of Quinn's taut abs, and she felt Quinn shiver at the touch. "Thank you," Santana whispered. She placed a kiss on Quinn's bare chest, just above her left breast.
"My pleasure."
The next few minutes passed in comfortable silence. Santana closed her eyes and listened to Quinn's heart and felt soothed by the sound. Quinn kept moving her fingers through Santana's hair, relaxing her even more.
"Have you told Brittany about us yet?" Quinn questioned suddenly.
Santana's eyes snapped open at the question. "We are lying in your bed, naked, after I've just had the most mind-blowing sex ever, and that's what you decide to ask?"
"I'll take that as a 'no.'"
"I'm sorry, Quinn. I just don't really know what to say to her. I don't know how she'll handle it, and…I don't know…" Santana trailed off.
"You don't want to hurt her," Quinn helped out. Santana nodded into her shoulder.
"Yeah," she responded quietly. She knew the conversation needed to be had, and soon; Brittany would find out eventually, and she would be even more pissed if she found out Santana had kept it from her. "I'll tell her tomorrow."
"Santana, I don't want to force you to tell her. I was just curious." Quinn rested her cheek on top of Santana's head.
But Santana shook her head. "No, I need to tell her. She's my best friend, she needs to know. I'm not keeping you a secret, Quinn, not even from Brittany."
"You are one of the most wonderful people ever," Quinn said. Santana felt her heart soar and her face heat up. "I feel like I don't tell you how wonderful you are as much as I should. But you are. Wonderful." Quinn kissed Santana's hair again.
"You're not so bad yourself," Santana told her, and Quinn giggled her heavenly giggle. Santana paused a second before continuing, "Quinn?"
"Santana?"
"Do you ever wonder how we ever ended up here? I mean, all throughout high school we had the whole competitive thing going on between us. We were both power hungry and didn't care what we did to get to the top. Then we hooked up at some failure of a wedding, and here we are 3 years later. Dating. Do you ever think about how it all happened?"
Quinn was quiet for a minute before answering. "Honestly? No, not really. I just don't think it's all that important. We've clearly come a long way since high school, and it's been for the better. Sure, maybe Mr. Schue's wedding was just some random occurrence that no one saw coming, but it happened. Life never does make sense. Maybe it will one day, but we're 22 years old—it's not going to make any right now. I don't think about how we got to where we are, because I don't care about it. The only thing I care about is that we are here. Right now. You and me. We're here. And we can either make things happen, or we can stand by and wonder what the hell happened." There was a confidence in her words; a confidence that made Santana feel like she and Quinn could face anything and overcome it, as long as they were together.
"I want to make things happen. With us, I mean," Santana said.
"Then that is exactly what we will do," Quinn replied. Both girls fell into silence for a minute, until Quinn spoke up again. "Most mind-blowing sex you've ever had, huh?" And Santana could tell she was grinning broadly.
"Don't get too cocky, Q," Santana warned.
"It was just an innocent question."
"Yeah, well I plan on getting you back for it," Santana muttered. "You're not even going to know what hit you."
Quinn pulled Santana closer to her, tightening her hold on the girl and laughed. "You have no idea how much I am looking forward to that."