"Talk."
"Fuck you."
"I said, talk."
"And I said, fuck you, which is talking," Santana argues, uncrossing her arms and lighting her fourth cigarette (she should say cancer stick because no way would she ever put one of those disgusting things in her mouth... too many chemicals and shit going into her lungs, so no thank you) of the night. Quinn groans and taps her fingers on the headboard of the bed she has been permanently attached to for most of Santana's should-be-epic party turned totally-lame-ass party.
(Fortunately for her, they are in the guest room and not in her bedroom which used to be a second guest bedroom, because if they were, she would be killing Santana for smoking in her room.)
Santana blows out a smoke ring and takes a few more hits before finally joining Quinn on the bed.
Needless to say, Quinn does not want to be here. She wants to be downstairs dancing with Rachel who she thinks may be her girlfriend, but she is not entirely sure of that because Santana rudely interrupted their conversation and decided to be a royal bitch.
She does not even know why she dredged up their failed attempt at a relationship. She could have kept her mouth shut and simply kicked Santana out of the room, but no, she chose to be Head Bitch In Charge Quinn and fired so many insults at the Latina that she actually hurt Santana's feelings, which is not easy because a lot of people make fun of Santana and she never reacts the way she reacted in response to Quinn's insults.
"Could you please put out your cancer stick?" Quinn asks, annoyed. She finds cigarettes to be downright disgusting. Santana merely takes another hit. "Or not," Quinn mutters under her breath.
"Fine, if you won't talk, then I will," Quinn decides aloud because she does not want to be away from Rachel for too long for fear that the brunette will grow entirely too exhausted (it is getting pretty late, after all) and leave the party. She looks at Santana, but Santana is avoiding her gaze; still, it doesn't deter her. "I know you, San, and because I know you, I know the reason you are drunk off your ass right now and being bitchier than you are on most days is because you are hurting. Severely. You can deny it all you want, but I know it to be the truth."
The calm expression on Santana's face is forced. "And I know you're hurting because Brittany wants you to out yourself," she continues when Santana does not say anything. She is shocked, really; Santana is hardly ever this silent, but she cannot say she is surprised. Santana claims to not do feelings on a daily basis.
"You don't have to hide anymore, Santana. I came out and it didn't kill me, and we all know that you're stronger than me so you'll definitely survive it, no questions asked," she goes on, her tone soft. Santana leans over and puts her cigarette out in the ashtray on the nightstand before hesitantly focusing her gaze on Quinn.
"I love Brit, Q, and I do not want to lose her, but I'm a bad ass and being a lesbo is just not seen as bad ass in high school." She is surprised at the pure heart and vulnerability in Santana's voice. This is definitely an unusual sight to see.
She takes Santana by the hand. Admittedly, it feels weird to her because she used to hold hands secretly with Santana all of the time. It takes her back to a time when she hid from the world; a time when she was happy and yet, undeniably miserable.
"Hey, Quinnie!" thirteen year old Santana shouted from across the street of Quinn's house. Quinn jumped up from the sidewalk, where she had been practicing her cheerleading stretches. She was practicing to be the best so that she could be a Cheerio because the Cheerios were the talk of the small town of Lima.
Her smile was wide as she skipped across the street, her hand instantly grabbing the Latina's as she joined her on the sidewalk. Santana yanked her hand out of Quinn's grasp. Quinn tried not to let it bother her, but she felt the sting anyway. She had known that getting involved with a girl would be complicated because she and that girl (in this particular case, herself and Santana) would have to hide their relationship and not tell a soul (she and Santana had made a blood pact after having shared their first kiss), but that did not make it hurt any less.
"Don't look so sour, sexy," Santana winked, nodding towards the backyard. Quinn knew exactly where this one was going. "Let's go to the tent. They'll never know."
Something didn't feel right. In fact, their entire "relationship" felt all wrong, but she agreed, anyway. She always did. The two made their way across the street and into Quinn's backyard, instantly unzipping the tent and going inside, zipping it up once they had entered.
After they sat down, Santana grabbed Quinn's hand, and Quinn smiled, but it was not as brilliant as the one before had been.
"What is with the moodiness?" Santana groaned, letting go of Quinn's hand and caressing the blonde's face gently. She leaned into the touch, enjoying the feel of Santana's always soft skin.
The touch of a girl was different than a boy's touch. Santana did not feel the way that Finn (the first and only boy that she had ever kissed) had felt. His touch had been rough and awkward, but Santana's touch felt right and wonderful, everything that romance novels described the touch of a lover to be.
"No one likes a downer, Quinnie," Santana continued when Quinn still had not said a word.
"I'm not being a downer," Quinn said, grinding her teeth together; a nervous twitch that she knew was bad for her teeth, but could not seem to quit doing when she grew nervous or anxious. "I just... I don't want to keep hiding. Are we going to have to hide forever? Is what we have really that wrong?" Santana tried to respond, but Quinn did not let her get a word in. "I hate my beliefs for telling me I can't be myself. How is that right, San? Are we-"
Santana shut her up with her lips. Typical Santana, but Quinn found that she did not mind. She never did, as was the way.
But not today. She pressed her hand flat against Santana's toned stomach (a stomach she found herself envious of, but also loved to touch and sometimes found herself never wanting to stop touching), pushing the darker girl away from her. "You can't do that every time a conversation gets serious between us, okay? I want to talk, Santana. About us and about what we're doing and about... coming out. I want to come out."
Santana was looking at her like she'd just told her that she was the next in line to become Queen of England or something equally as ridiculous.
"I'm not gay, Fabray, I've already told you that," Quinn didn't buy it; she hadn't since the first time Santana had kissed her. "Anyway, you can't come out. Your parents will disown you. They are a bunch of uptight Christian freaks." She paused. "No offense, of course."
"Right, of course," Quinn drawled flatly. It wasn't even that she was offended because she knew Santana was right; it was just that she hated that Santana was right. Her parents would never accept her, especially not her dad and her mother would listen to him and disown Quinn as well because her mother didn't know how to think for herself anymore. (Quinn was positive her mother had lost the ability to think for herself the minute she became Mrs. Russel.)
"Just forget that I said anything, San." She never should have brought it up in the first place.
"Will do," Santana said before yanking Quinn over to her and ravishing her with kisses. Not that Quinn was complaining.
"You were right that day," Quinn blurts, causing Santana to look at her. "My parents are uptight Christian freaks and they did disown me, but one thing you forgot to add is that I would be happier regardless because at least I wouldn't be lying to myself and the people I love. So my parents kicked me out and I am living with you and I never get to see my family? At least I get to be myself and that is a lot more than you get to say for yourself right now, and I would rather be myself than listen to the rest of the word that is telling me I need to hide because of who I love."
"If you tell anyone I said this, I will fucking ruin you, but... you're right. I think... I think I'm ready."
Quinn throws her arms around Santana. "I'm proud of you, San."
"Yeah, yeah," Santana mutters, but Quinn can hear the smile in her voice.
Rachel watches in disgust as just another drunk girl falls onto the floor. She despises drunks; drunks and drug addicts. She grew up around alcohol and drugs for the first twelve years of her life and she made a promise to herself that she would never touch any type of alcohol or any sort of drug.
"Hey, A-Rach." Rachel smiles at the nickname and looks over to see Finn sitting beside her.
She considers Finn a good friend. Truthfully, she considers all of the glee club members to be her good friends, not counting Mercedes because she seems to honestly not like her because Mr. Schue is always giving her the solos (though, she does not even ask for them, they are simply handed to her, so she thinks Mercedes has no reason to hate her for something she has no control over), and now that she is thinking about it, she is not a huge fan of Kurt, either, because he is the most dramatic person she has met in all her seventeen years.
She, also, is not too fond of Puck, but when he is Noah, she realizes that she enjoys spending time with him.
"Are you ever going to let that go, Finn?" Rachel queries with a roll of her eyes. "I, personally, think you should let it go. I apologized, so let's be adults about this." She is mostly teasing. She is referring to an assignment they were given a couple of weeks ago where both the girls and boys were pinned against each other for a competition and both teams cheated using Vitamin D.
Finn has been calling her A-Rach ever since.
"Chill, A-Rach," she smacks him upside the head, but he seems unaffected, "we're cool. And there is no need to smack me."
"So, are you as excited for Sectionals as I am?" she wonders aloud, deciding to change the subject. "I will admit that I am somewhat nervous, but I'm entitled to be, I think. I have never participated in a competition before, especially not one so huge and it seems that glee club competitions are a big thing in this school."
"They are," Finn agrees. "Didn't used to be, but we changed their minds after the first year when we made it all the way to Nationals, and last year, we actually won Nationals. We're like, top of the food chain."
Rachel snorts. She is aware that the sound is unattractive, but she is not trying to impress Finn, therefore, she does not care.
"Is that so? I'm assuming Kurt had slushy thrown in his face twice last week because all of the popular kids enjoy being drenched in icy drinks?" she says teasingly, a smirk tugging at her lips.
Finn is clearly not amused, but she can see that he is fighting not to smile despite that.
"You're pretty chill, Rach," Finn compliments her; she blushes. "Oh, and to answer your question, Kurt probably had slushy thrown in his face because he takes Drama Queen to bigger heights."
Rachel fights to not spit out her Coca-Cola, but the attempt is a wasted one because she spits the drink out anyway and the liquid hits the floor. She swings her head around to look at Finn and says, "Don't you dare laugh, Jolly Green Giant."
Finn doesn't look amused at the nickname, but he laughs anyway. "Sorry," he apologizes halfheartedly. "You know... Quinn is one pretty lucky girl. You're so not crazy. Ignore Kurt. He can be a dick."
Her smile fades at the thought of Quinn, but it instantly returns when she hears, "Are you hitting on my girl, Hudson?" and feels a pair of arms wrap around her neck.
Quinn kisses the top of Rachel's head before moving from behind the couch to the front, giving Finn a deathly glare that Rachel is almost positive means that he better move or Quinn is going to choke him to death.
Not a pleasant thought, which is most likely why Finn jumps up almost instantaneously. Quinn takes his seat and scoots closer to Rachel, her leg gently bumping against Rachel's.
"Hey, beautiful," Quinn says softly when Finn says his goodbyes and joins the slowly dying party. "Sorry about Santana. She has no manners." Rachel blinks. She would talk, but she is positive that Quinn is nowhere near finished apologizing. "Don't get me wrong, she is a loyal friend unless you give her a reason not to be and she has a good heart, but she takes heartless bitch to a whole new level a lot of the time."
"Quinn, shut up," Rachel says, but she does not speak the words rudely. Quinn looks at her disbelievingly. "I don't want to talk about Santana. I want to talk about us because I think you asked me to be your girlfriend and I know I agreed, but correct me if I am wrong, because I do not want to overstep any boundaries or make you think I'm some weird girl, or-"
Quinn shuts her up with her lips. Again. Not that she is complaining. She enjoys kissing Quinn very much.
"You weren't mistaken," Quinn says against her lips. "I want you to be my girlfriend. If you want to be, that is," she continues doubtfully.
"Just kiss me, girlfriend," she demands (mostly serious, a little teasing). Quinn complies.
X
"My head is spinning," Quinn groans. Approximately four hours have flown by since she and Quinn made their relationship official and in those four hours, seven teenagers have soiled Santana's parent's carpets with their vomit (she cringes at the disgusting thought), she and her girlfriend (she enjoys how that word sounds in her mind and aloud) have made out heavily, and most guests have passed out in the living room or in the hallways.
She and Quinn walk, hand-in-hand, outside, where she spots Santana and Brittany cuddling on the hood of Santana's car. She sees Quinn smile out of the corner of her eye.
"Your doing, I presume?" she asks, focusing on Quinn, who looks even more beautiful under the pale moonlight.
"Yeah, I guess," Quinn says wistfully before looking at Rachel. "I really don't want you to go," she admits, sounding embarrassed.
"And I do not want to go," Rachel tells her truthfully, "but my cell has over thirty missed calls and considering how close it is to dawn, I have my suspicions that the missed calls are from Dad and Daddy... Mostly Daddy. I would rather not give them more of a reason to worry than I already have, being that I have been out most of the night into the early morning."
Quinn gently grabs one of Rachel's hands and pulls her closer, instantly wrapping her arms around Rachel's small waist. Rachel enjoys the way it feels when Quinn is holding onto her. She feels safe, like nothing can touch her or harm her, and she has not felt that way in quite some time.
"I still don't want you to go," Quinn says heatedly, and before Rachel can respond, Quinn is kissing her for the umpteenth time and she finds that she does not really mind because this beautiful girl is now her girlfriend and she wants to do this every day for as long as she possibly can.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I blame short and late chapter on lack of inspiration. I plan on writing, but the gaps in between updates may be growing larger, just a warning. I will finish this if it kills me, though.
Thanks for your support and the reviews.