It was surprising how well they were living together, really. Their schedules were perfect, both being able to meet for lunch between classes and one promising to pick up dinner on their way home from class. Following that, if it was a weekday, they'd spend it studying or watching cheesy horror films. If it was a weekend however, Santana would spend it in attempts to get Quinn out of the house and out to parties. Which, of course, never seemed to work out.
"Q, come on. You cannot hide you sexy ass in this apartment forever."
"I sure as hell can try, Santana," she murmured bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest in defense.
Every single weekend was like this, every move the same. For crying out loud, Santana was just trying to get Quinn out of the insanely pitiful slump she was in. This was getting ridiculous, seeing Quinn wrapped up in a blanket with messed up, unshowered hair pulled up into a sloppy bun, no makeup, sitting in front of the TV and watching stupid romantic comedies. At this point, she belonged in one.
"Come on… Don't you think this is a tiny bit ridiculous?" Pleading, this was a new low, but anything to get Quinn out of her fucking apartment. This was ridiculous and pretty heart breaking at the same time.
Santana watched as the blonde pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing it nervously. She was not one to feel guilt or pity, but when she did, it was pretty strong. As Santana looked down to her friend, her heart broke a bit more. She didn't know what happened, but it Quinn was wallowing in self-pity, it was probably a big deal.
Sighing softly, Santana sat next to her, fingers moving to tuck a stand of loose blonde hair behind the other girl's ear. "Okay, look… I know whatever Jesus Braids did to you was pretty bad, but come on… You're Quinn Fabray, daddy problems expert." She deserved the harsh glare she got, but Santana continued, "Point is, you always bounce back. And now is time to do it again." Reaching down, she took Quinn's hand into hers, funny how they fit together so well. "We don't have to go and get drunk, how about… I don't know why don't we go out for a proper dinner? Or, we could go see a movie, walk around Times Square to see how many insane people we find… You just need to get out, Q."
They were silent, only their breathing and the background noise from the movie echoing in the apartment. Finally though, Quinn began to nod, squeezing Santana's hand before getting up.
"You're right," she murmured, smiling a bit as she looked up to her. "Let's go out, we can go to that gay club you always talk to me about, I'll be your wingman."
Chuckling, Santana shook her head, waving Quinn off as a sign for her to get ready.
"I've never seen so many at once…"
"What, gay people? I thought you went to pride while you were at Yale…"
"No, men in assless chaps."
"Again, pride at Yale?"
They laughed, Quinn shaking her head as she took a sip of her drink. Some fruity drink some girl had bought for her while Santana took another sip of her vodka. She was a girl who like her drinks straight, she liked the burning sensation it gave.
Looking out across the dance floor, she felt Quinn lean close. "What about that one?" she whispered, gesturing to the woman across the floor grinding against a few of her friends.
"Q, she looks just like Berry, no…"
Rolling her eyes and crossing her arms, she huffed, pouting. "You're so goddamn picky; no wonder you're not getting laid."
That was enough to light a fire under Santana, accepting it as a challenge more than anything. "Excuse me? For your information, any of the women would be lucky to get in bed with me; I am a goddess in the sack, okay Q?"
Smirking, Quinn nodded sarcastically, taking another sip of her drink. "Sure S, sure."
Right then, Santana stood, leaving her drink and walking over to the girl.
"Hey," she whispered, pressing her body up against the other girl's front. "Wanna dance?"
"Mmmhm," the girl muttered, taking a gentle hold of Santana's hand and leading her away from her friends before pulling Santana against her, pretty much dry humping her leg.
The girl really did look a lot like Rachel, disturbingly so. Only differences were that this girl was taller and she had some crappy blue contacts in. But hey, sex was sex, and from what she was feeling, the girl felt the same way.
"God you're hot," the girl whispered, nipping as the Latina's neck. The groan was unintentional; she was always weak when it came to her collarbone.
It didn't take love before the pair were in a dark corner, feverishly kissing. The kisses were sloppy, drunk, the kind of kisses that Santana preferred to do without. She preferred her partners sober but it had been so long. The shorter girl moved her lips down Santana's neck as she tangled her fingers into her hair, causing Santana to gasp.
Her eyes opened when the girl bit down, and what Santana saw sent a boil in her blood.
There was Quinn, with some girl flirting with her. It pissed her off, and she didn't get why. She was blushing at the other girl's words, and it was apparent that Quinn was flirting back. God, that fire that lit inside of Santana was too much to bear.
Pushing the other girl away slowly, she sighed at the loss of contact. "Sorry, go find some other girl to fuck." With that, she marched right over to Quinn, wrapping her arm around her shoulder.
It obviously freaked out Quinn, but whatever. "Hey hun, having fun?" Santana asked, eyes locking with the other girl's.
"Oh, yeah. This is Kelly, she and I have been talking. Kelly, this is-"
"Santana Lopez." Santana finished for her, watching as the other woman sat straight, rolling her eyes and walking away, murmuring something that Santana couldn't make out.
"You okay, S?" Quinn whispered, looking up to her. "You have like… Ten hickeys on your neck."
"Yeah, fine. Just think this place is lame and dead wanna go home and watch some stupid movie?"
They left, just like that, moving through the growing pile of people that made the room pass what had to be the legal limit. But what did Santana care, she left with her arm wrapped defensively around Quinn's shoulders.