Title: TFLN ficlets
Author: timorous-scribe
Length: varies
Rating: mostly PG to T-ish
Summary: Various little ficlets using Texts From Last Night posts as prompts.
(714) we hung out 5 times and only had sex 3 of those times. I'd call that friendship
"I just, I-" Quinn sighed, pressing her fingertips to her forehead and closing her eyes. "What are we, Santana?"
There was a lot more build up to the question when Quinn imagined it in her head, but her exasperation with the whole conversation had it falling out with hardly any preamble. She couldn't deny how she felt when they were together, and they weren't kids anymore. There was a lot more at stake now.
It had only been a little over a year since Santana and Brittany had split, and only half that time since Santana had moved out to L.A. Quinn could handle being the support, the constant for Santana to lean on while she put herself back together in the wake of a nearly ten year long relationship. But she couldn't handle the thought of being just a rebound, not to Santana.
Santana didn't respond right away and the silence stretched on long enough for Quinn to peek an eye open, peering over at the other woman uncertainly. She was staring at Quinn with that unsettling intensity, unreadable in her quiet. Quinn felt like screaming.
She'd tried to ignore it for months, the fire between them, the attraction. It's too fresh, she needs a *friend* right now, stop checking her out! But it kept growing between them like it always had, until Quinn just didn't have the strength to resist. She wanted Santana, more than ever now to see her grown into the strong and beautiful woman watching Quinn from her own sofa with steady clarity.
"We're friends, Quinn." Santana watched carefully for the effect of her words, full lips turning in the hint of a smile at Quinn's huff. "Best friends."
"Is that all we are?" Quinn hated how small her voice sounded, how tremulous and, and weak. She knew that Santana was her best friend, however humorous the fates found themselves when they stitched that arrangement, it was there and was the truth. She just couldn't stop herself from wanting so much more, wanting everything. She twisted her fingers together and squeezed, watching the skin turn from red to white with the pressure.
Santana reached across the stretch of sofa cushion between them, covering Quinn's fingers with her own. She waited until Quinn looked up at her again before responding.
"We hung out five times in the last week and only had sex three of those times." She smirked and Quinn could see the near-black of her eyes twinkling, countering the fake seriousness of her tone. "I'd call that friendship, yeah."
Quinn laughed desire herself and shook her head, letting her body fall forward until her forehead was pressed against Santana's thigh.
"You know what I mean. Jerk." It was muffled into the fabric of Santana's yoga pants, and Quinn sighed as Santana dragged nimble fingers through her hair, enjoying the soothing sensation for a few moments in the quiet.
"I'm just scared, Quinn." The whisper was so soft Quinn could almost think she imagined it, if not for the tightening of the grip in her hair. She pressed a kiss into the cotton against her lips and sat up, chasing Santana's gaze this time, instead of the other way around.
"Chinese and Agent Carter?" Quinn asked, grabbing Santana's hand again with a soft smile. She understood the fear, shared it, even, and decided that if Santana was afraid, that had to mean something, at least.
Santana's eyes traced over her features searching for something, a genuine smile dawning when she was satisfied with what she'd found. She rolled her eyes and squeezed the fingers against her own.
"You and that show, I swear to god. You just like her tits."