QUINN

I can't believe I'm sitting in Santana's bathroom, watching her study my face while she presses a cool washcloth to it. Her gaze is clearly affectionate, if not somewhat wanting, and my heart is pounding in my chest. I don't dare to imagine that she might still care about me as much as I care for her, even if she's invited me to stay with her instead of kicking me out of her house.

Santana notices me watching her and abruptly stops her movements. She looks absolutely mortified, and it's so endearing I want to jump up and wrap her in arms. Instead I just stop her from moving away from me, and take the washcloth from her hand. She's been crying, too, and I want to show her the same care she's just shown me.

I try to be casual as I smile at her curious expression, but I feel a sudden shyness. I don't want to overstep when we're just barely being civil to each other, yet at the same time it feels like it is totally natural to take care of one another. I decide to go for it.

"Your turn," I say as lightly as I can, and slide off of the counter.

I turn and wait for Santana to take my former spot, watching as she hesitates for just a second and then places her palms on the counter and lifts herself up to sit. Her body language indicates clearly that she is apprehensive.

I run the washcloth under cool water and ring it out thoroughly before stepping in front of the effortless Latina beauty that is Santana Lopez. I bring the washcloth beneath her left eye and carefully press it to the puffy, red skin. My mouth has gone dry, and I'm enraptured by her eyes on mine. I feel my left hand come up and cup her face as I move my other hand to gently press the wet cloth to the outside of her eye. She closes her eyes briefly at my skin touching hers, and when they reopen I am overwhelmed by the sudden fire I can see blazing in them.

Kiss her.

I give her a slight smile and drop my hands, switching the washcloth over to my left and taking the opportunity to look away from her magnetic eyes. I didn't come here thinking I'd be able to mend our broken friendship, and I certainly didn't come to make a move on her. I'd come because even now I loved Santana and my guilt was destroying me.

Coming here was an act of desperation, and I'd teetered wildly from terrified to determined from the moment I decided to knock on her front door. Thank God Mrs. Lopez had answered the door. She'd given me a gentle hug and kissed my forehead before telling me how great it was to see me again and how pretty I looked. I had wanted to cry at the tenderness of the gesture and her kind words, but instead I'd just thanked her politely and asked if Santana was home. I was actually really relieved when she told me that San was still at Cheerios practice, but that I could wait upstairs in her room.

Waiting was much more difficult than I'd expected though. I know Santana's room like I know my own, and it felt comforting to be there, but also extremely painful. I'd walked around, looking for things that had changed, looking for things that hadn't. My heart had ached when I realized a picture I'd given her right before freshman year wasn't where it had been displayed before. That had stopped my wandering, and I'd plopped myself on her bed and turned on the TV to distract myself. It hadn't really helped, and I felt like I was chewing through my lip, I was so nervous.

Nothing could have prepared me for seeing Santana come through her door. Just that afternoon she had been in my face about hanging out with Puck, and there I was, about to confess to my former best friend that I'd slept with her boyfriend. But the minute I saw her face, all I could think about was how beautiful she was. At least until I heard her laugh at me. It had stung throughout my entire body, and that flash of hurt had come out as anger from my tongue. I don't know why everything with Santana affects me so deeply, but just as her laugh had cut through my body, the unexpected hurt I heard in her voice had pulled me up short. I had no right to expect her to care about me.

When I'd finally been able to say what I'd come to say, she didn't even flinch. She'd looked concerned, not angry. It had crumbled everything inside of me in an instant, and having her arms around me was almost more than I could take. I was less prepared for her kindness than I had been for anger, but I was so grateful and relieved.

Now here I am, thinking about kissing this girl whose empathy I don't deserve. I'm an idiot, and I'm going to ruin the tentative bridge that has finally closed the gap between us that I caused in the first place.

"Santana! Quinn! It's almost time for dinner!"

I've never been more relieved to hear Mrs. L's voice in my life. She might be the only thing that kept me from doing something irreversibly stupid.

I step back from Santana and put the washcloth on the rack. She hops down from the counter and holds out her hand.

"Come on," she says quietly.

I slip my hand into hers and feel a light squeeze before she leads me to the door.

SANTANA

Once we're downstairs helping to set the table for dinner, my mother catches my eye and smiles broadly. I take the obvious opportunity to ask if Quinn can stay over, and even though it's a school night Mom immediately agrees. When Quinn tries to say thank you, Mom enthusiastically assures her she's welcome any time. Somehow I feel like she's actually holding back from saying more, and I find myself briefly puzzling over what it is my mother really wants to say before my attention is pulled back to my apparently on-again friend.

Quinn looks more like herself than she has in a long time. I am saddened to realize I can't even remember the last time I saw her seem so at ease. She laughs and chats easily with my parents; she's charming without the manipulative undertones I've seen her use on so many other adults. I do my best to split my attention equally, trying hard to avoid letting my eyes linger on my blonde friend. When our plates are empty, I get up to start clearing the table, but mom gives me a reprieve from clean up so that Quinn and I can hang out.

My second wind is petering out quickly, and my legs feel heavy as I drag myself upstairs with Quinn in tow. As tired as my body is, my thoughts are racing. I'm not sure how to act when I'm alone with the girl of my dreams, but I quickly decide to be as nonchalant as possible. Just because we've gone from frenemies to actual friends, doesn't mean I should act any differently.

When I hear the door to my room close behind us, I begin pulling off my Cheerios sweats in favor of something lighter to sleep in. I catch sight of Quinn awkwardly standing by the bed, concentrating her eyes carefully away from me, and my movements slow to a stop. I am in underwear and a sports bra, and Quinn is acting like I'm naked mere inches away from her. This is nothing she hasn't seen before, and her reaction brings such a burning curiosity to my mind that I don't even think before I call her out.

"What's the matter?" Somehow I doubt I'll get an honest response from her, but I'm so mesmerized by the blush rising from her neck to her cheeks that I hardly care.

"You're beautiful," she says in a tone that conveys defiance, wistfulness, and appreciation. Her eyes snap up to mine, and I can see her battling to appear both confident and nonchalant.

I smile shyly back at her and murmur "thank you," trying to keep my breathing steady even though I can literally hear my heart beating in my ears. I know I'm an attractive girl. I am stared at on a daily basis, and I've heard it so many times that it barely even registers with me as a compliment anymore. But something about hearing those words from Quinn's lips has me feeling somehow more confident and inexplicably nervous.

I quickly grab us both baggy t-shirts, tossing one to her before pulling off my sports bra and yanking the t-shirt over my head. When I turn back to Quinn she's clearly uncomfortable, and it suddenly strikes me that she is really pregnant. There is a real baby growing inside of her tiny stomach, pushing her small waist out at this point. No wonder she was so affected by my body before. I suddenly feel like a jerk for looking so good, and then I feel stupid for such a ridiculous thought. Like it's my fault she's pregnant.

"Do you want me to leave?" Somehow I know that's not really the answer, but I can't think of anything else appropriate to say. There is too much for one person to process going on today, so I can't be blamed for my slow thinking.

She huffs and rolls her eyes, then confirms that my question is completely off base.

"You think I'm uncomfortable changing in front of you because you're all skinny and sexy?" She sounds annoyed, but also somehow amused.

She thinks I'm sexy?!

"I mean, I don't know. I just…assumed…look, I'm really tired and I just…I'm trying here, Quinn."

My frustrated sigh seems to soften her bunched up features. I see a slight smile and subtle head shake from her and then she's pulling off layers as if she never hesitated at all. I pull my eyes off of her and busy myself getting my things together for the next day. In no time, Quinn has her shirt on and is climbing onto my bed. She settles easily into the spot that was hers before the Ice Age began between us, now the spot is most typically filled by Brittany.

Brittany. Suddenly my brilliant best friends' words are ringing in my ears.

"Quinn is the only answer for you."

"So, um…did you want to talk?" I sit down on the edge of the bed and nervously regard Quinn. I'm so very tired, but I will deal with anything to make Quinn feel better.

"Honestly, I don't know if I can talk about all of this without getting crazy emotional and crying my eyes out…again," Quinn lets out a soft laugh when she says "again" and gives me small smile. "I don't want to put you through all of that, but…I was kind of wondering about something. How did you know Puck is the father?"

Shit. If I tell her the truth, she's going to flip. But I can't lie to her right off the bat.

"Puck told Mercedes, and she told me." I say it slowly, with my eyes on her face. I'm waiting for the meltdown.

"I figured as much," She says with a little shake of her head. "Can I ask you one more thing?"

"Of course." I'm so relieved that Quinn isn't upset that I'd tell her anything.

"Why aren't you mad at me for sleeping with Puck? You seemed pretty mad today about the babysitting thing even though you guys broke up, but you're not upset that I slept with him when you were still dating? Don't get me wrong, I'm so thankful…I'm just surprised I guess." She looks like she's regretting this question now that it's come out of her mouth, as if by reminding me of the chain of events she is going to make me realize how angry I should be.

She's asked two questions and my first instinct is to lie in response to both of them. Damn it, Quinn. Telling the truth on this one is completely out of the question, that's a surefire way to end the progress we've made so far. Half-truth it is then.

"I don't love Puck," I say with a small shrug. I love YOU.

"Okay, but then why were you so mad today?" Quinn is pressing for a truth I don't think I should tell her.

I sigh heavily and look down at the comforter, trying to figure out how much I can tell her without sounding crazy or ruining everything.

"Santana?"

"Britt and I figured out what you were up to…with Puck…and we thought it was a terrible idea," I pause and look at her to gauge her reaction before continuing, "So we came up with a plan to show you how irresponsible and selfish he really is." Now that I've said it out loud, it sounds kind of bad. In fact, it sounds really bad. I shouldn't have admitted this.

"Wait, what?" Quinn looks more confused than angry.

"I know it sounds bad, and I'm sorry for interfering in your business. It's just that, I love you," Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, "l mean, Britt and I, we both love you. We love you and we didn't want you to end up stuck here with a complete deadbeat trying to raise a kid!" I'm on my feet turned slightly away from her now. My heart is pounding, I can't believe I slipped like that and I'm also pretty sure Quinn is going to flip out at me for messing up things with Puck. Great job, asshole.

"Thank you." Her voice pulls me up short and I turn to look at her. "You guys were right. Being with Puck would have been a disaster. I don't think anyone has ever done anything that sweet for me before. So thank you."

I'm dumbstruck for a second. She's not flipping out at me. She knows we were right. She thinks it was sweet.

"And, I love you too," Quinn looks at me purposefully, "You and Britt. I've missed you."

I know she means that she's missed me. Before Britt ever showed up, Quinn and I were inseparable for a year before everything just imploded. Now we hover in a quasi-friendship state, connected (until recently) by Cheerios, and Brittany's insistence that I stay in Quinn's life.

I give her a half smile, "We've missed you too."

I let out a long yawn, which causes Quinn to yawn as well. She pulls back the blankets on my bed and climbs under, then pats the spot next to her. My spot.

I can't wait to tell Britt tomorrow that Quinn and I finally got started on our equation, even if it's just towards being real friends again. Tonight, I climb into my bed and turn off the light, laying my head down as my eyes adjust to the darkness. Before long, I can see Quinn looking back at me. She gives me a small smile and turns onto her side with her back to me. Without a second thought I scoot closer to her until I'm pressed up against her back. I can feel her breathing change slightly when my body touches her, but it catches completely when I slide my hand around her and gently palm her slight baby bump. I'm as shocked as she is, but I don't withdraw my hand. I lie very still and close my eyes briefly, opening them when I feel Quinn's body turn against mine. She has managed to turn herself so that our faces are just a few inches apart and she's looking from my eyes to my lips and back again. She settles on my eyes for a moment before hers flutter closed as she leans in to close the small gap between us and press a gentle kiss to my lips. It is a short, chaste kiss that says more than I had ever imagined a kiss could convey. When she leans back and opens her eyes, I can tell she is trying to gauge my reaction. Her gaze is apprehensive, so I seek to reassure her by initiating a second soft kiss. When I feel her smile against my lips I break the kiss and lean my forehead against hers, trying to calm my erratic heart. After a moment she leans back and brushes her lips above my brow, before turning over and wiggling back against me. I smile lazily as I snuggle into her and place my hand once again against her tiny bump. My smile only broadens when I feel her hand cover mine.

"Good night, San."

"Night."

Okay, so it turns out I am, in fact, a complete idiot. I have no clue what the fuck just happened or what any of this means, but I do know that I don't want to be anywhere else in the world right now. Quinn Fabray kissed me…again. I can feel my face still pulled into a smile as I finally drift off to sleep.