AN: This is set in 3x19. It's AU in the way that Santana isn't dating Brittany at this time in the story. As always, I hope you enjoy this!
"I can't believe this," Quinn huffs as she sets the pen down. "Guess who's the prom queen."
"Clearly me. Surprised you have to ask." Santana replies.
Quinn rolls her eyes. "Ever so humble. But I suppose you're half right," she says, scrunching her nose in distaste. "We're tied for first place."
"Right," Santana says. "Well, as far as I'm concerned, I haven't casted a vote yet. I vote for myself."
Quinn frowns and looks at Santana weirdly. "No. You're not allowed to vote."
Santana sighs. "So, what should we do about it then?"
"Well, it is Rachel's–" Quinn starts.
"No, fuck Rachel."
"Alright," Quinn sets her jaw and stares Santana down. "Do you have any better ideas?"
"Give it up for this year's prom Queen and Queen," Figgins says in his heavy accent, standing between the two girls on the stage, one of whom was smiling broadly and the other was scowling. "Santana Lopez and Quinn Fabray."
Confetti flies everywhere as everybody cheers. Figgins looks at the two girls before the noise overwhelms him and he descends the stage.
Quinn blinks. "This is not what I had in mind."
"No shit," Santana rolls her eyes. "Should've let me vote for myself."
"Ah, fuck off," Quinn snaps. "What do we do now? This is mortifying. I'll never hear the end of this."
"Hmm," Santana adjusts the crown on her head. "I think we dance."
"What?" Quinn hisses as the people on the dancefloor parts to make space for them. "You've got to be kidding me."
"I'm dead serious," Santana shrugs. "Again, this is your fault."
"How?" Quinn growls. "Ugh, we'll deal with this later. What do we do?"
"We dance?"
"No, I'm not dancing!" Quinn says vehemently as Santana pulls her arm towards the dancefloor. "Stop it!"
"It's tradition," Santana says. "You should know this, being the head cheerleader. Oh wait. Ex head cheerleader."
Quinn closes her eyes and exhales deeply, trying to control her emotions. "Alright. Let's just get this over with."
The lights dim and the spotlight shines upon the two girls, in the centre of the dancefloor. In the blinding light, they can't see anybody except for each other, and Santana is a little too close to Quinn for her comfort.
"This is your idea?" Quinn accuses through gritted teeth as Santana wraps an arm around her waist and steps in closer.
"No," Santana says quickly, a little too innocently. "I had no idea any of this was going to happen. Not a clue at all."
Quinn lets out a low growl from the back of her throat. "I hate my life."
Santana tilts her head. "Do you know how many people would love to be in your position right now? Stop being ungrateful."
The band starts playing slow music and that was their cue. Quinn subconsciously tightens her grip on Santana's upper arm making the latter wince. "You better know what you're doing."
"Please," Santana scoffs.
Quinn could feel a million gazes upon her as Santana shifts her from left to right. Quinn feels stiff as a log. This was definitely not what she envisioned in her bedroom back in her young teenage years, nor what she envisioned during through her campaign.
Santana's breasts were pressed up against hers and they were warm and Quinn feels really hot and bothered. Santana even has the audacity to place a hand on her back, burrowing her face behind her shoulder so they were touching cheek to cheek.
Santana is guiding them all over the place and she's not even doing a good job of it, because she's stepping on Quinn's feet all the time. Santana is wearing ridiculously high heels and she knows it would not be long before both of them tumble to the floor, to which JBI would swoop in and take a ton of pictures and their faces would be on the front cover of the school newspaper and they would be the laughing stock for the rest of their lives–
"This is too far." Quinn deadpans and Santana pulls back, amused.
"Why are you so tense?" she says, running her hand down the length of Quinn's arm. "Relax. You might enjoy it more."
"Yeah, of course." Quinn nods sarcastically. She puts an arm around Santana's waist and pulls her in aggressively, making Santana hum in approval. But Santana is getting the wrong idea. She cannot be more wrong. She leans in as she whispers into Santana's ear: "I will kill you and make it look like an accident."
Santana pulls back, bemused. "I'd like to see you try."
"I will poison your drink."
"I'll still drink it," Santana shrugs, a lopsided smirk appearing on her face and never has Quinn wanted to slap it off more. "God, you're insufferable."
Quinn does not want to look at Santana's smug face for another second, so she pulls her back in, rests her chin against Santana's shoulder and stares blankly at the crowd for the rest of the dance. She can't see them because she's still in blinding light, but she is confident that this is the worst prom queen dance in the history of the school, and she has witnessed a lot over the several years she had been here.
Just as she thought the music was about to end, the drummer does another fill, and the music launches into another chorus.
"What the fuck?" Quinn groans in disbelief as Santana steps on her feet again. "They're taking the piss."
"Stop being such a Negative Nancy," Santana retorts. "Relax. Pretend nobody else is here. Just us two. Look at me, Quinn."
Quinn scoffs and looks into Santana's eyes. She was surprised it didn't hold mirth for once.
"Just us two," Santana repeats.
Quinn supposes it's perhaps not as bad as she was making it out to be. Being the prom queen had been her dream and she supposes Santana isn't the worst possible dance partner for her senior prom.
"There's that smile," Santana grins, and it looks genuine.
Quinn's smile holds until Santana steps on her foot again and it instantly turns into a scowl.
"Oops," Santana grimaces, looking to the side. "This one was a genuine accident."
"You don't look too happy for a prom queen," Santana says as she approaches Quinn, who is sitting alone at a table.
"I wonder why," Quinn grumbles.
"Makes two of us," Santana shrugs as she takes a seat opposite Quinn. She sees the untouched drink on the table, and she grabs it. She holds it to her lips before she says, "Is this poisoned?"
Quinn looks at Santana. "Yes," she deadpans.
"You're so sweet." Santana says before tilting the glass, and within a few seconds she has already chugged all the wine.
Quinn raises an eyebrow. "You have balls."
"No I don't, and thank god for that," Santana grins, putting the glass back onto the table. "You already know I'm not the biggest fan of the male anatomy."
Quinn groans. What would people think of her? This was Ohio.
"Oh, brighten up. People enjoyed our dance."
"Yeah, because it was god awful," Quinn groans, slapping a hand against her forehead. "Thanks, by the way," she says. "Thanks for making my life more of a joke than it already is."
"Your life's never been a joke," Santana says and despite her tipsiness, her words somehow held sincerity. "And for the record, I enjoyed the dance."
"Can't say the same."
"Aw, come on," Santana pouts. "It wasn't that bad."
"You stepped on my foot on purpose many times."
"Just making it interesting!" Santana defends. "Besides, you did the same as well. I don't think they were on purpose though."
"Oh, they were." Quinn says.
"Alright, look." Santana clasps her hands together, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. "Pretend nobody was watching us. Pretend nobody knew any of this happened. Pretend this was truly just the two of us. Would you have enjoyed it more?"
Quinn gives it thought for a while. "Probably."
"You know," Santana says, smiling again but this was a different smile. It wasn't joyous, but it wasn't playful either. "Have you ever wondered why boys like to pull girls' hair… or always team up against them in water balloon fights… or tease them?"
"Where are you going with this?"
"It's because they like them." Santana says, and her expression is still unreadable. "It's the only way they can think of to get their attention." She looks to the side before sighing. "Perhaps that's why I was determined to make you so annoyed in the dance. I am sorry."
"What are you talking about?"
"Quinn." Santana says, exasperated. Her voice is no more than a whisper. "Take the hint."
"What?" Quinn frowns.
Santana stands up and sits back down, next to Quinn. "Quinn," she whispers. Her eyes are hooded. She's close.
Before Quinn knows it, Santana's lips are pressed against hers and Quinn's too surprised to even protest. Santana's really, really warm and honestly, it's kind of nice. But it takes a few moments before Quinn regains her senses and pushes Santana back.
"Ah!" Quinn wipes her mouth. "What are you doing?"
Santana's cheeks are red and for once she looks embarrassed. "Do you still not understand? I like you, Quinn. Do I really need to spell it out for you?"
"You don't mean this," Quinn says, and her mind is working so fast she can't comprehend any of her thoughts. "This is the alcohol talking."
"I am fully aware of what is happening right now," Santana says. "I'm dead serious. I've felt this way for a long time now."
"But…" Quinn's searching for the words, but they're not coming. "I don't even like girls that way! I can't! I'm sorry I can't give you what you're looking for but–"
"Think about everybody you've ever dated," Santana cuts her off. "What is so glorious about boys?"
Quinn stays silent.
"One chance. That's all I ask of you. If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. Yes, I can be a brat, but I'm not so bad. I promise."
Quinn looks at Santana and she had to admit, Santana does look pretty damn good in her red dress. Besides, Santana was indeed the most interesting person she had ever known.
Quinn purses her lips and looks around her.
"Oh for god's sake," Santana says, frustrated. "There's nobody around. You don't have to worry about anybody seeing your dirty kiss. Right? You think I'm dir–"
She was abruptly cut off, for Quinn has crashed her lips onto Santana's.