A/N: Two quick updates, not sure how soon the next ones will come. I hope you enjoy, and as always, feel free to let me know what you think.
SANTANA
I've been running the Cheerios for a week and I've gotta admit, I kind of love it. Recruiting Britt and Quinn to help has definitely paid off as well. They make me 1,000 times better than I would be alone, plus seeing my girlfriend back in her element has been more than worth it. The team has accepted her as if she never left. They know she's damn good at running this show, she was the first freshman captain in the history of the Cheerios for crying out loud—Quinn knows her shit.
I'm watching the team do yet another walk thru of our ground routine, with Quinn walking alongside Ali. The freshman Cheerio didn't back out of taking Britt's sequence after their nasty collision and she has improved dramatically with the great Quinn Fabray guiding her. I'm pretty impressed, kid has determination. The entire routine looks significantly cleaner than it had last week. I push them hard, but this team has responded to my every challenge.
Quinn meanders back to my side and stands watching the team reset to run it again, this time with music.
"Hey guys, you know what? Go grab some water and take a 5 minute break. Keep moving though, don't let your muscles tighten up," I announce, then turn to Quinn. "What do you think?"
"I think they look good, really good actually. You've done a great job, San. I'm really proud of you."
"We've done a great job," I correct her, "there is no way I could have done this without you and Britt. Although your yoga pants are incredibly distracting."
I know the smirk on my face is palpable, and even though she isn't actually looking at my face, Quinn knows it's there.
"Well I guess I'll just have to get out of them as soon as possible," she responds lightly, giving me a quick sideways glance with a smirk of her own before walking away to talk to Ali.
The heat that has traveled through my body lingers despite my attempts to regain my composure. I finally shake my head and move to get into position.
"Quinn, can you watch this run thru? I'm going to actually get into this one so we can run the entire thing," I call out to my pretty blonde girl.
"Sure," she says as she moves to the bleachers to watch from a better vantage point.
Britt sidles up next to me and leans her elbow on my shoulder, tilting her head to speak in my ear before skipping lightly to her mark.
"Quinn got ya worked up much?"
My mouth drops open, but I keep my eyes fixed forward in an effort to control my reaction. I can see my girlfriend laugh a little up in the bleachers and I'm certain she has a pretty good idea of what just happened.
Fuckers, I think with a little smile.
Quinn surveys the team and then cues the music. We complete the run through without any mid-air collisions or mishaps. I'm standing on the Cheerios guys' legs, in position for the pyramid build up, waiting on Q's assessment.
"Hey guys, that was great! Make sure you keep your lines clean. Ali, you were perfect on that run thru, do that every time. Spence, you didn't need to put your hand out to steady Santana that time, and you certainly didn't need to cop a feel in order to steady her. Keep your hands to yourself. Let's do it again."
My eyes widen in surprise, I didn't even notice that he'd touched me at all. I glance down at Spence, formerly known as No Name, and I see his face and ears are bright red. I hop down from my position as the rest of the team resets as well.
"Sorry," he mumbles without looking me in the eye.
"Don't worry about it, tell me honestly—was I off balance?"
"I guess not," he says.
"Well, let's just try to keep the flip as streamlined as possible so we don't lose any points. If you have to steady me then that's better than me falling off completely. Good job though, we'll get it this time."
I move to my mark and look up at Quinn, who was evidently watching my little discussion because her nose is flared and she's avoiding my eye contact. Whatever, we'll deal with that little outburst later.
Jealous Quinn. Interesting. Kinda Cute. Kinda Hot. Pretty sure she'll forget about this when she has my head between her legs…Holy shit, Santana, get your mind out of the gutter and back on task! Jesus.
I roll my eyes at myself and see Quinn is finally looking at me. Her face is hard as she looks straight into my eyes.
"Cue music," she says coldly.
Well, shit.
QUINN
I know I'm being irrational, but I don't know how to say that since Santana and I haven't actually spoken since I gave her the stare down in the gym. Poor Brittany tried to bridge the awkward silence in the car on the way home, but it has persisted and now Santana is in her room taking a shower and I'm lying on my own bed for once. I pull out a notebook and flip it open in frustration, directly to a page I'd completely forgotten about.
Santana's note from Saturday. How could I forget about this?
I run my fingers over my own loopy handwriting, remembering the nervous anticipation I'd felt as I wrote it. I tear it out of the book and fold it neatly, writing the most beautiful name I know in careful cursive on the outside before carrying it over to her room and placing it on her desk.
Santana takes her sweet time in the shower, so I know it will be a bit before she sees it. I decide to start my homework for real, but quickly give up. I can't focus my thoughts when it feels like San is angry with me. I think about why I got so annoyed with her in the first place, because that's what has caused this whole mess.
Spence's big meaty hand flashing up to "steady" Santana's boob had sent pure fury through my entire body, but for some reason it was really directed more towards her than him. It's like I realized on the spot that I was going to have to witness things like that for as long as we're together, which of course means for the rest of my life. Anyone would get upset about that, right? I know it's not her fault that she is so ridiculously gorgeous and will inevitably be hit on more than the average 15 year old girl, but that doesn't stop it from being difficult to see someone touch her so intimately. No one knows she's mine, but she is.
I feel a sudden lump in the back of my throat and tears stinging at my eyes. That's what it really is. We've only been together for a week and I'm already having temper tantrums because I can't say Santana is my girlfriend, I can't lay claim to her as anything more than her best friend. My head drops down at the sudden realization and I take a long, quivering breath. How the hell are we going to manage this? I'm going to need to be so much stronger than I am.
SANTANA
I've been done with my shower for a while now, but I'm standing under the running water trying to figure out how to fix things with Quinn. I feel like this mini-fight isn't something either of us want, but when she didn't immediately come to me and speak I'd decided I wasn't going to try to bridge the gap this time. Quinn has to learn how to come to me with a problem instead of shutting down, and she never will if I'm always in her face trying to fix our issues. It's hard though, my instinct is to go to her.
I finally give up on solving this problem in the shower and start putting myself together. I take exactly one step into my bedroom and see a note with my name on it sitting on my desk. I drop my towel in my hurry to get to it, and start reading immediately.
Santana Diabla Lopez-
I don't know what is going to happen in the next few moments or hours or days or weeks or years. I do know that I love you more than anything in this world and that, given the choice, I will always be yours. And there is also this:
"I revere you. I esteem and admire you above all human beings. You are the friend to whom my soul is attached as to its other half. You are the most amiable, the most perfect of women. And you are dearer to me than language has the power of telling…You are now all my own…How will my soul find room for its happiness? It seems already bursting!"
-Frances Burney, Evelina
That was written over 200 years ago and yet it seems to me as if it was written to describe my exact feelings for you. You are my dearest friend, my closest confidante, my perfect counterpoint. Santana, you are my LOVE.
I love you—1,000 times over, I love you.
Always yours-
Lucy Q
I drop the paper to my floor and grab shorts and a tank top, pulling them on with fumbling urgency. I'm out my door and flying into Quinn's room in hardly a second.
QUINN
Santana bursts into my room and throws the door shut behind her as she climbs onto my bed and pulls me up to her so that we're both kneeling. She doesn't pause for even a second before she presses her lips against mine. Her impatient insistence wakes me up from my internal turmoil and I meet her halfway. Between kisses San starts whispering against my lips.
"So perfect."
Kiss.
"Exactly."
Kiss.
"What I needed."
Kiss.
"Love you."
Kiss.
"So much."
I pull her against me and kiss her even harder, trying to express even further how I feel about her. When Santana's hands come up to carefully cup my face she slows the kiss down and pulls back to look at me.
"Why were you crying, Quinn?"
Her voice is so gentle and sweet I feel like crying all over again.
"Just being an idiot, love. Don't mind me," I tell her.
"I do mind you. I mind you very much. Please tell me," she insists quietly.
"I was thinking about why I got so upset about Spence's hands being on you…and it's just that, I want to be able to actually claim you as mine. It hurts that I can't. And I know I'm going to have to deal with this same kind of thing for as long as we have to keep this secret. It just makes me worried because I feel like I need to be much stronger than this and it's only been a week. But listen to me Santana, I'm not going anywhere. I'm done with my little moment, I'm still right here with you, okay? I need for you to trust in that."
I look into Santana's eyes and give her a little smile, willing her to see and hear my sincerity.
"I trust you, babe. Thanks for telling me what's on your mind. I know this is something we're going to have to deal with. I can't stand watching Puck stare at you in Glee like he has some kind of claim over you because he's an irresponsible asshole and didn't take care of you. So trust me, we're on the same page. But the way I see it, as long as you and I know where we belong, I don't care what anyone else wants to believe. My heart, my love—they are only yours."
"How do you do that? You always know exactly the right thing to say…"
"Please, Q. Have you read that note you gave me? It's like something out of a love manual. You're talented, Lucy Q. Fabray. I want to frame that paper as a memento of one of the most amazing nights of my life," Santana says with a smile.
"You give me too much credit," I tell her, rolling my eyes.
"Never. You hungry?"
"Depends on what I'm eating," I respond with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.
Santana recovers quickly from the clear shock that flashes across her features.
"Oh I think I know exactly what you want, hot stuff," she says in a sultry whisper.
"Do you?" I breathe with a little head tilt, pressing my body to hers again.
"Mmhmm," San nods, then presses her lips to mine softly, "you want bacon."
I can't help but laugh at that.
SANTANA
Coach is back.
The minute I see her looming figure I feel like the wind has left my sails. The past week and change I've spent running the Cheerios has been awesome. No abuse from Sue, the opportunity to spend time with my two favorite girls, being able to actually lead without constant input or second guessing. Plus, I've felt like I could actually relax at Glee and just enjoy myself without the prospect of being asked to undermine the one part of my day that I get to spend challenging myself and discovering what my voice can really do.
It sucks to lose all of that, but mostly I'm going to miss having Quinn at practice. She's been an absolute all-star as a coach. It's almost as if her superpowers came back as soon as she stepped back in front of that team. Every single suggestion or criticism made the entire squad better, and it seems a horrible injustice that Coach Sue isn't going to allow her to be at practice anymore. So I'm going to do something about it.
I take a deep breath and steady myself before knocking on the door.
"Come in."
"Hi Coach. Welcome back," I say coolly. No point starting off with my demands.
"Well thank you, young ethnic Sue Sylvester. I gotta say, I am pretty impressed. I reviewed the Nationals routine tapes you sent me, and it seems as if you've not only kept the team from falling apart, you've actually whipped those whiny crybabies into something resembling an actual cheerleading squad. Clearly you aren't as utterly useless as I'd originally assumed."
If ever there was a perfect setup…
"I'm glad you feel that way Coach, we did work very hard on the routine in your absence. But, I can't take all of the credit. Brittany did a lot of the work on the choreography, and I also brought Quinn in to help sharpen our performance-"
"I beg your pardon? Did you just tell me that you invited the single greatest disappointment this program has ever seen to take a position of leadership in front of my squad?" Coach looks completely horrified. I have to fight to keep my temper in check.
"Yes, that's exactly what I told you. We're better with her, Coach. She made a huge difference at practice over the past week, and the team respects her. Yeah, she should have told you about everything, but she was scared! You can't tell me that you've never regretted a decision you've made. If you keep Quinn from coming to practice, you are hurting our chances of winning. If nothing else, that should be enough reason to keep her around."
"Absolutely not," she says dismissively.
I don't have any control over the words that come out of my mouth next, because they are possibly the worst words I could say.
"If she goes, Brittany and I go too. It's up to you."
I keep my face blank after I spew my word vomit. I can't unsay it, but if I show a shred of doubt in my conviction Coach will tear me to pieces.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Lopez. Are you really ready to walk these halls without that uniform? Are you ready to drink up the slushie shame that will come your way once you're nothing but a mediocre backup Glee clubber? I hope so, if you're really willing to wager your position that I need you that badly," Coach tells me with narrowed eyes.
My insides churn with fear. I need to be a Cheerio, but Coach doesn't know just how much. And I know that no one could replace Britt and me to a high enough standard to win Nationals in just a few weeks. My mask of indifference is fixed in place, thank God.
"The only danger here is that the Cheerios will lose the National championship because you are too stubborn to do whatever it takes to win. Quinn will help us win. As the head bitch in charge of this team, I'll do whatever I can to get that trophy back to McKinley where it belongs. The only real question here is whether or not you're willing to do the same."
I hold my chin up and regard Coach, waiting for the explosion that seems most likely at this point.
"I've never liked you, Latin Barbie, but I've got to give you some credit for the apparently huge lady balls you are carrying around with you. I'll make you a deal. Quinn can continue to come to practice—for now. But in return, you and Brittany are going to pursue one Finn Hudson as if your lives depend on it. It'll drive Rachel Berry crazy, destroying the undisputed star of the Glee club. Do we have a deal?" Coach has a vicious sneer on her face as she asks me to agree to her insane arrangement.
Well fuck.