Disclaimer: The usual; not mine.

AN: Wow, I never thought anyone would even notice this, besides the peeps I linked it to, so thanks to everyone that reviewed and favorite and stuff! SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING TILL NOW! D: And sorry if I'm not very consistent with said updates. :/ Writer's block is a biiitch. Anyways, hope this is as up to par as the other two! Also, my friend Panda came up with most of this, so we'll just say that all credit goes to her on this one :P

Now fully clothed and walking down the street in a comfortable silence were Quinn and Santana, that former flat out refusing to think about her sexuality (opting instead to plot), and the latter arguing with her conscience on the whole ordeal at hand.

You are incorrigible! Oh shut the fuck up, you're the one who wants me to go all gay for Fabray! Well it's pretty fucking obvious you're already gay for her, moron. ¡Cállate, and you're the one being an imbecile. You're the one who won't fess up! You're the one who's screaming at me and pressuring me! I'm your conscience! What the fuck is that supposed to mean? It means I am you, so you just insulted yourself. Shut up.

"Tana, you okay?" She heard the blonde's soft, gentle voice piercing her thoughts. Her head snapped up.

"Yeah, fine. Just thinking." She really needed to work on the half-truths thing.

"You sure?" Quinn meekly stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. She felt Santana's muscles instantly relax under her touch before tensing again as she shrugged.

"Fine, Barbie." Santana's defenses slammed down, but not with a resounded, Idiot! from her conscience. Quinn looked hurt.

Why is she suddenly all snappy, did I do something? Q, it's Santana; you should've expected it. It was a one night stand, that's all; get over it. What if I don't want to get over it? It…felt good, and she was much gentler than Pucke—Because it's Santana, a chick, who knows that it was only your second time. So you're saying she actually cares? I'm saying you should keep an eye out for the little things; like now, she's looking at you like she kicked your puppy and felt guilty about it, and Santana never feels guilty. I get it, so I take note of the little subtle hints she drops, intentional or not, and then look at them up later? Exactly, Fabray.

"Hey. Q. I'm sorry…" Santana trailed off. The words tasted odd in her mouth, sort of bad but sort of good, too. She slipped her hand into the blonde's, justifying it with friends hold hands all the time! And her conscience's response: You are impossible. Shaking her head to clear it, she squeezed Quinn's hand before tugging her along in the direction of Breadstix.

Once they arrived, Santana snagged them a table by glaring at the hostess. It was already around four, so they decided to just have dessert because they were due at Santana's house in a few hours. Both girls sat, perusing the menu and sneaking glances at one another. Their eyes met once, and they both blushed and snapped them back to the menu. A waiter came by and took their orders, and the boy seemed quite eager to escape them; Santana was a regular there, after all.

Quinn was lost in thought. She was trying to avoid putting two and two together about this…whatever it was, between her and Santana. They may have been out in public, but to Quinn, they were still in this little bubble of post-sex happiness. She was content to just be sitting there with Santana.

The Latina, on the other hand, was freaking out. She didn't know what she was going to do about this. Yes, she had fully intended to sleep with Quinn last night, because it was so obvious that the blonde needed to loosen up, but attraction to her was becoming more than attraction really fast. Too fast. She didn't think she could handle it. And then when you add in her mind and heart (both of which she's ignoring), she's filled to the brim with panic. She wants to, she does. But it's like with Brittany; she can't, she's not ready. She'd rather lie and be miserable than deal with the stares and the words and the judgment. Lima, Ohio isn't the best place to be gay, she mused. She was shaken out of her thoughts as the waiter returned with her Stix and Quinn's frozen yogurt. She immediately began munching on one, ignoring Quinn's barely suppressed giggle.

She's funny, Quinn noted. It was amusing, Santana's antics. She was nervous or anxious about something and she was taking it out on the poor breadstick. It's so cute, how she's freaking out right now; I wonder why. I mean, it's not like this is a date or anything… Suddenly, it struck Quinn; That's what her mom tacked on after she took her off speaker. She had been wondering what Mrs. Lopez told Santana in Spanish. Quinn made a mental note to work harder in Mr. Schue's class so she could understand more. She looked over at Santana, who had started on another breadstick.

"San, calm down. What's the matter?" Quinn knew what was the matter, she just wanted to hear it for herself. Santana paused mid-bite and looked at Quinn.

"Why would something be the matter? I'm fine, there's nothing wrong," she said, a little too quickly. She winced internally. Nice going, way to be obvious.

Quinn shook her head. "Come on, San, tell me what's going on in that head of yours. I can practically see the gears spinning," she joked.

"I like you," Santana blurted before she could stop herself. I win! Shut it.

Quinn's eyes widened in surprise. She was not expecting the dark haired girl to be so…open with her. Told you so. Oh, hush. Say no more, I'm gone; adios! No, wait, come back! What, you need me now? …Yes… Okay! Wait, that easy? Yep, I'll get you later. …Okay… Alright, so here's what you want to d—

"Q, say something." She was broken out of her thoughts by Santana's voice, and the insecurity in it. Her eyes snapped to Santana's and she saw just how torn up she was about this. Quinn didn't know what to say. She was about to come up with a plan and then Santana spoke and everything just sort of drifted out. She shook her head and held up her index finger, telling Santana to wait a minute. She shut her eyes and waited for her conscience to take the reins.

Alright, Q, listen up; do you like her? I..think so… Alright, so you need to say something! But…I'm not sure; I mean, the sex was really good, obviously, and she's being really nice, taking me out and stuff, but it's Santana, and she's not exactly the most faithful person and she doesn't do commitment, which is what I need, and now that we're off the Cheerios, our popularity is down in the basement and—What about her? What do you mean? Well, her popularity is down in the basement, she obviously actually likes you because she's putting the effort in, she must want to have a relationship with you if she hasn't ditched you on the side of the road yet, and you forget, she just went through a lot of shit with Brittany and Puck ditching her for other people. Wow, I never actually thought about it that way. That's why I do the thinking, Blondie. You ruined the moment. My pleasure.

"I…um…well…" Quinn started off, unsure of where to go.

Santana's eyes scanned the blonde's face as she seemed to internally struggle with herself. Her eyebrows raised at Quinn's words. "You, um, what?" she prompted, trying to ignore the way her heart went bang-bang-bang against her ribcage.

"I... I... We..." For once in her life, Quinn was lost for words. She knew very well that the Latina was expectantly awaiting her answer, and she finally blurted out, "What are we right now, Santana?" The moment the words left her lips, she wanted to take them all back instantly. She bit her lip as Santana frowned.

"Well, we just had a very interesting time involving lack of clothing and naked bodies rubbing up against each other," Santana said rather dryly, "And I just told you I like you, which I am now beginning to half-regret seeing as apparently you don't feel the same way-"

"But I do feel the same way," Quinn argued, her hand clapping over her mouth the moment she said it. What? Did she really feel the same way?

... Yes, yes, she did, and she hadn't wanted to admit it but she HAD to correct Santana and—

"You do?"

The look on Santana's face wasn't something she let anyone saw. And Quinn knew now that she had the power to make or break her friend with a simple word. Santana had never looked so... vulnerable.

Quinn cleared her throat. "Look, I... We... did... all of that and... I mean at first I thought it was just you being better at sex than Puck-"

"I AM better at sex than Puck-" Santana interrupted.

"Let me finish! ... Let me finish. And I mean I... I just... if we're going to do... whatever this is, we should do it right. I.. you know me and my penchant for traditionalism."

"Like getting knocked up as a teen and then having lesbian sex with your friend?"

"... Precisely."

Both girls shared a look before promptly bursting into laughter, attracting stares from the various people scattered about the restaurant. Once their giggles died down they locked eyes.

"I don't do relationships…" Santana started, trailing off as she thought of what to say next. Quinn, apparently, got the wrong idea.

"Oh. Well, I guess I'll, uh, just go then. Thanks." She stood up, feeling her chest tighten. Why am I feeling like this? It can't possibly be because of actual feelings. I mean, I knew this was going to happen! Fuck!

Santana leapt up and grabbed the blonde's hand. "Stop! Quinn, let me finish, would ya? Jeez, so quick to jump to conclusions." She paused and took a breath. "I don't do relationships…But I…I'll try this…whatever, with you…" She squeezed Quinn's hand, guiding her back into the booth. Way to go, Lopez, break the girl's heart by mistake. Jodido idiota.

Quinn's smile could've lit up the world. Santana couldn't help but grin in response. "So….we're an 'us' now, right?" The Latina questioned, just to be sure. Quinn nodded. Santana let out a nervous chuckle and squeezed Quinn's hand again. "Cool."

Spanish/English:

Jodido Idiota: Fucking Idiot

¡Cállate : Shut up!

Adios: Goodbye