A/N: I checked my e-mail today and realized a ton of people are following this story or have favorited it, so thanks! It makes me feel happy to know more than 18 people have read it, lol.

About doing Quinn's POV – I don't know. Maybe. She's hard enough for me to write like this, so being inside her head would be a big challenge for me.

Chapter 7

I spent the rest of the week feeling disconnected from reality. It took me seconds longer to respond to the simplest of things, like my alarm going off in the morning or someone asking me a question. I usually turned blank eyes towards direct inquiries, and shrugged by way of answer. It wasn't earning me any friends, that was for sure – most of my teachers had lectured me in front of the whole class for not paying attention. Sometimes, I could feel anger flare up, but it was far away – just like everything else. I went through the next two days feeling disjointed and detached, and generally apathetic towards everything.

Brittany had tried to call me Thursday night, but I ignored it. I barely texted her, and I could tell she felt bad. Even that didn't matter to me, not really. It was like it was happening to someone else, and I couldn't stir up the passion to really care.

Quinn, surprisingly, left me alone as much as possible. She looked at me with knowing eyes and limited our conversations, using herself as a buffer between me and anyone else we encountered while together. I knew I should probably be glad about it, but I recognized it only through a haze of indifference.

When I woke up on Friday, it was as if something clicked inside me. I blinked, and the whole world shifted back into focus, bright and dazzling. I even smiled a little bit, stretching my arms above my head. Quinn was sitting at her computer desk with a cup of coffee, already having gotten dressed and ready for the day. That girl is like a damn pop tart – jumping out of bed and getting ready with enthusiasm. It takes me much, much longer to be as awake as her, and I slept later.

"Hey, Quinn!" I said, and she jumped, sloshing the brown liquid around inside its container. She turned to look at me with startled eyes, a look of surprise on her face.

"It's Friday!" I told her with enthusiasm.

"Yes, how astute of you, Santana," She said, quietly, but she was trying to hide her smile.

"That means we get to go home today, right?" I turned over in the bed, cuddling my head down into my pillow and wrapping my comforter around my legs.

Her face flashed with an emotion I couldn't recognize, and then her eyebrows furrowed. "Uh, are you sure you still want to do that..?"

I nodded my head yes, hard. "Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

Quinn huffed out a breath. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because Brittany is going to be with Artie? What if she has plans to hang out with him? I already know you didn't tell her we're coming."

I frowned at her. "Why would you know that?"

Quinn realized by the tone of my voice that she had better tread softly. She straightened a bit in her seat and then gestured towards me, palms outwards. "She's my friend, too, Santana. I was just checking on her."

I scowled, lifting myself up from my prone position. I could feel that my hair was a crazy mess. It usually is. Next to the word "bed head" in the dictionary should be a picture of yours truly first thing in the morning.

I thought about denying the thing between Brittany and me, but it was only a brief consideration. Quinn knows. At one point, that simple, two-word sentence would have sent me into caterwauls of panic, and had me fighting the knowledge with everything inside me. Quinn knows. But that was before.. before things like Quinn's nightmares, or the mud, or the night she held my hand while I slept. Now, knowing that Quinn knows is just something I have learned to accept, and partially be grateful for. It's not a secret anymore – not something I have to limit to between Britt and I. And at some point, it had been delicious, knowing we had something between us that was private and nobody else knew, but the delight in that simple fact had turned to lead in the last few months, weighing heavy against my mind and heart. Now it was lightened, if only a little bit, because I let Quinn in on it.

"Well, so what? She'll want to hang out with me." I sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, not quite missing the guarded look Quinn threw my way. I started towards the bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind me. I started messing with my hair and then gave up and decided to take a shower, there was no saving it without a complete redo.

About an hour later, I left the bathroom, showered, styled, and ready for the day. I was impatient for it to be 3 o'clock and time for school to let out. Quinn was still sitting at her desk, scrolling through some website on her laptop.

"Are you ready, Blondie?" I asked, coming up behind her. She stilled her moving fingers, tensing a bit when I leaned down to read what she was looking at over her shoulder. My cheek brush against her hair and I could smell her – her lavender body wash, her light, flowery perfume, and the sharp, heavy scent of coffee.

Quinn angled her head and met my eyes, a curious look washing over her face. Her brow rose, and her lips quirked, and I was aware that they were right there, within easy kissing distance. I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat and then shot her a smile, stepping backwards. I almost never initiate this kind of closeness between us for that reason – it made my heart start to hammer in my chest and a flood of color wash my cheeks. Being that close to Quinn made me nervous, and there was no denying the why of it anymore.. I wanted her. It was pure and unabashedly sexual longing, and though I couldn't come to terms with my feelings for Brittany or even begin to examine the way I felt about Quinn, I knew what it felt like to want. It caused long, liquid streams of fire to originate in my gut and shoot up and down my body in a persistent tugging that ended somewhere between my legs. It caught me off guard, especially when I felt like I was finally getting comfortable around her.. then I would somehow catch a glimpse of her legs beneath her short Atherton skirt or I would find myself watching her lips as she talked.

I didn't think Quinn was as oblivious to her effect on me as she let on. It was something about the devious quirk of her smile or the mischievous glint of her dimples that made me realize she was toying with me. It had only been a week since I arrived here, and my world was turned upside down, but of that I was pretty sure. She loved getting in my space and touching me before I knew she was going to. At first, I had tried to brush it off as the easy physical casualness between friends, but now.. now that she knew.. it seemed a lot more like flirting. And I didn't really let myself begin to think about what that meant to me, much less what it meant to Quinn. Quinn's straight, right? Right.

I cleared my throat and averted my gaze as she stood up, and then reached down to pick up my backpack. I walked towards the door and held it open for her, gesturing with my fingers. "After you, Blondie."

Xxxxx

"You're sure about this?" Quinn was asking me, again, for about the hundredth time since I woke up that morning. I was bouncing on the balls of my feet, consumed with excitement at the idea of leaving Atherton. I didn't realize until now how much it felt like a prison, and I was dying to escape. I had packed a quick bag full of nightclothes and a few outfits, a toothbrush, things like that. I was wearing a long, baggy yellow tank top and jean cutoffs. Quinn was wearing a white sun dress, her hair in perfect order, the gold glint of a cross winking around her neck.

"Yes, for the last time. I'm sure." I didn't know what she was so bothered about, anyway. I hopped into the passenger side of her green turbo bug, and immediately flipped the radio on. Quinn buckled herself into the driver's side, and without even looking at me snapped the volume down. I made a face at her, then began messing with the dial until a rap station came on. I turned it back up.

Quinn held out about thirty seconds before laughing at me, because I was rapping to the words in Look At Me Now and making crazy faces at her. It was the most free I had felt in a long time. She kept her eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel, picking up speed as we got on the onramp that would take us back to Lima.

"Did you text Puck?" Quinn asked, over the heady throb of the song, which was now playing Bottom's Up.

"Hmm, yeah. He said his uncle told him he could have another party tonight. So we're going straight there." I told her, flipping through my cell phone. I usually avoided texting Puck if I could. He always tried to turn it into something sexual, and that ship had long sailed – around the time he knocked Quinn up, and started canoodling Rachel, to be honest. Puck was never anything serious for me, anyway.. just some hunk of meat I could claim as mine, to keep the majority of the slavering boys away from me.

Quinn pursed her lips and pressed them into a thin white line, but didn't say anything. I got the feeling she didn't approve of this, though she was going along with it. I didn't get her. Didn't she want to see our friends, too?

"So does your dad know you're coming home?" She asked me, much later and several radio station changes later.

"Uh, no." I was reading something on my phone and so I was a little distracted. "I'm just going to stay with Britt."

Quinn's head whipped around to look at me like I had just spoke in a foreign language. I looked at her. "What?"

"Just, maybe you should tell Brittany you're coming," Quinn said quietly.

I shrugged. I wanted to surprise her. "No, it's not going to be a big deal. She'll let me stay with her."

Quinn nodded, her eyebrows furrowing. "I'm sure." A long pause. "But it might be different now."

I snapped my head up to look at her, my turn to look confused. "Uh, what? How do you mean?"

Quinn waited a long time before saying anything, and then just shook her head. "Nothing. It's nothing."

My expression was puzzled, and I examined her face, trying to decipher what she was hinting at. Usually I'm not this clueless, but Quinn is a naturally opaque person – extremely hard to read or gauge. She was being particularly enigmatic now, keeping her eyes planted firmly on the winding highway in front of us and her tone carefully neutral.

I swallowed, fighting the growing tightness in my chest. "Do you want to talk about this, Quinn?" I started out weakly, and then pressed my forehead against the cold glass of the car window. "Like, about me and Brittany?"

Quinn shifted uncomfortably in her seat, darting a quick look at me. "Hmm. If you want to."

I shook my head violently. "No. I don't. But I thought you might be curious."

Quinn was restless now, different emotions flitting across her face, too quickly for me to pin one down. She was squeezing the steering wheel and settling her weight from one side to the other.

"Well, I do recall you telling me, distinctly, that you're not gay.."

I winced. "I'm not. I mean, who knows?" I gestured impatiently in front of me. "I have sex with guys. You know?"

Quinn's face darkened for a fraction of an instant and then the look was replaced by icy indifference. "Mhm. Yeah. But it's not about who you have sex with," She said, turning now to give me a pointed look. "It's about who you fall in love with."

I scrunched my face up, trying to process what she was saying. "Fall in love with? Really, Teen Mom? Where do you come up with this stuff, an after school special?"

Quinn rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "Please, can we have one conversation where you don't deflect with insults?"

I swallowed. "No. I mean, yes. Okay. I'll try."

Quinn's face softened a little bit, and she reached down to squeeze my fingers briefly.

"So.." I let the word out in a long whistle. "Hmm. In love with. Yeah, okay, I can see that. But I'm not in love with Brittany," I added quickly. Quinn's eyebrows shot up and she just turned to look at me. Not buying it, her face seemed to say.

I scowled, pressing the pad of my finger onto her window, making greasy doodles on the glass. It gave me something to do with my hands. "I just don't know. I might be. I've never thought about it. Why would I? There just was always Brittany, and this thing between us.." I gestured into the empty space in front of me. "It's natural and normal. It's nothing I've ever had to think too hard about. I love her. She's my best friend." I turned my body towards Quinn, a little surprised at the brevity of my own words. I could tell she was soaking in what I said, because she kept her face carefully blank. "But we both have sex with boys. I even dated Puckerman last year. Sure, she's with Artie now.. but there's always going to be us."

Quinn was silent for a long moment. When she spoke, her tone was jagged, like she had to fight past a strong emotion just to get the words out. "Have you ever done anything with another girl?"

I quickly shook my head no. "Brittany started making out with girls right after we started, but I never did. It.. uh.. she was always enough for me." I shrugged self-consciously.

Quinn nodded, then took a heavy breath and let it out. "So, you're not attracted to other girls, at all?"

Her words hit me with the full force of a donkey kick to the gut. I felt the breath whoosh out of me and my face turn a dark color, my face staring at her in complete shock. My mouth even had dropped open, but I snapped it closed. "Why?" I asked, wonderingly.

Quinn's face darkened too, but she had an irritated look on her face now. "Because maybe you're bisexual?"

Oh. Hmm. I mulled the thought over in my head, trying to ignore the deep blush that colored my cheeks. I had thought, for a second, that Quinn was asking me if I was attracted to her. "Yeah. Definitely."

Quinn seemed surprised that I came to that conclusion so quickly, and admitted it without any kind of struggle. That was a lot easier to say than hey, nice to meet you, I'm Ohio's biggest lesbian. I smiled, a little relieved. Then I let it drop from my face quickly. "Okay, but I'm not interested in any labels, all right? Not going to start painting the rainbow flag on me and marching in pride parades."

Quinn laughed, and shook her head. "What are you so scared of, Santana? Nobody is going to care about it."

I shrugged, bristling a little bit at the mockery in her tone. "You wouldn't understand." I crossed my arms over my chest and stared out the window, unwilling to continue the conversation. Of course, if anyone could understand, it would be Quinn – she was like me, concerned with her reputation and social standing. She had lost everything when she got pregnant.. and I hadn't hesitated to fill in her place at the top of the social ladder. It had been nice, getting the respect and the envy of everyone, but it was hard, because you can't fuck up even one little bit. It's like with that hot spotlight on you, everyone can see everything about you, every little flaw, and they circle around you like buzzards, waiting for you to expose just one little imperfection, before they strike, and drag you down among the other carrion.

Quinn let me stew in silence for a while, before I just grunted and leaned forward, snapping the radio back on. Conversation over.

Xxxx

Quinn pressed her fingertips into my shoulder urgently, jerking me out of my doze. I shifted, blinking my eyes at her. We were parked on a huge front lawn that had only a gravel driveway. The house was situated on the back half of the property. I immediately recognized the scent of a bonfire, and I could hear the yells and music of a large party erupting in the distance. I smiled sleepily at her.

"Ready?" Quinn asked, though her tone implied this was something to dread instead of look forward to. I just nodded, unsnapping my seat belt. I unfolded myself from the sitting position, stretching out my limbs and working the creaks out of my neck. A quick check in Quinn's side mirror showed that my makeup was still in place and my hair was still neatly curled down my back.

I began a quick walk towards the gathering of people around the bonfire, my face lighting up when I caught sight of my tall blonde friend. Quinn hung behind me, her hands clasped in front of her, as if she were nervous or hesitant. I didn't understand that about her, but I didn't have time to think about it because as soon as Brittany spied me, her face lit up in a huge grin and she sprinted towards me and threw herself into me, knocking me back a few steps. I laughed, squeezing my arms around her, and she was squealing and had wrapped her legs around me. I nearly toppled backwards, and the feeling in my chest was so big and happy that I almost cried. Almost. But I didn't, because then there were a bunch of other people surrounding us, and the noise level amped up because everyone wanted hugs and they were excited to see me.

I was so happy to see everyone that I was even nice to Finn, who walked up to give me a one-armed hug, the other hand wrapped around a beer bottle. "What's up, buddy?" He said, with a doofy look on his face. I had to bite back about a dozen insults about how he looked like a beached whale or suggestions that he try Weight Watchers, but decided to be nice for now. I nodded in the direction of Quinn, who stood a little back, out of the immediate circle of light from the bonfire. Finn watched me angle my head and then his own face split into a huge smile, and he ambled over to say hi to her.

"Santana!" Brittany was right next to me, hanging onto my arm. "Why didn't you say you were coming back?"

"I wanted to surprise you, Britt," I said, grinning. She laughed, and I thought she was probably a little drunk already.

"That's so great," She said, giving me another hug. "Do you want to go to a movie on Sunday?"

"Uhh," I said, distracted by the cup that somebody handed me. I sniffed it, deciding it was alcohol, probably vodka. I took a healthy swallow. "I figured I'd stay the night at your place, and we'd get facials tomorrow."

Britt's expression turned into one of utter confusion. "I can't." She said it like it was kind of a foreign subject to her, something she didn't entirely understand. "I made plans with Artie, to go to the mall."

I frowned at her, swilling the contents of my cup around. "So? Cancel them."

Britt was getting that look on her face that meant she didn't know what to say, a look that always made my heart crack just the tiniest bit. "He's just a stupid boy, Brittany." I told her, because it seemed so obvious, but obvious things weren't always so for Britt.

Her eyebrows knit, and now I knew she was having trouble. "I can't just cancel on him, Santana. It wouldn't be right. It would hurt his feelings."

"And?" I was suddenly getting angry, and that almost never happened with Brittany. It was probably the alcohol working, but also the insecurity and pent up emotions that had been hanging around with me since Wednesday.

"I can't do it. We'll go to the movies on Sunday," Brittany said, reaching down to squeeze my free hand between both of hers, before dropping it. She turned and wandered back towards Artie, who was waiting with Tina and Mike.

I scowled at her, watching her go. I was mulling the thoughts over in my head and was suddenly filled with so much anger and pain. I wanted to do something to get away from this feeling, anything.. I wanted to run, or hit something, or scream or cry. I couldn't handle it, it was like a giant wall inside me and it was begging to be let out.

I jumped when I felt someone's palm against my shoulder, and snarled at Puck as he tucked his arm against me and shoved me close to him. "Hey, babe," He said, his breath smelling strongly like beer and stale cigarettes. I grimaced. "Are you staying here tonight?"

"In your dreams, Noah," I spat, sliding out from underneath his arm.

"Oh, don't be like that," He said, reaching for my waist to pull me closer to him. I lashed out, slapping against his arm with my fingertips. He yelped and drew his arms back.

"Don't touch me," I hissed.

"Bitch." He muttered as he walked away, cradling his forearm. I could feel my fingernails snag against it, breaking the skin when I slapped. I absently flicked the pieces of flesh away from me.

"Here," Mercedes said, coming up beside me suddenly. I almost snapped at her, too, but refrained because I saw she was holding a bottle of beer. I took it gratefully and began to chug it. "Whoa, slow down," She said, but just stepped back when I glared at her.

I spent the rest of the night avoiding Brittany, who, to her credit, did try to find me a few times. Every time I turned around she was asking about me, in her slurred, jilted way that meant she was too drunk to know what was going on. I kept dodging her, pulling out beer and taking shots at every opportunity. I didn't see Quinn anywhere. I bet she disappeared with Finn some place. I scowled, remembering how 'in love' they had been sophomore year, before Puck and Rachel got in between them. It made me wonder if Quinn had ever slept with Finn.

Even though I was pissed at Artie for ruining my chances with Brittany tonight, I still kept a look out for her, and cornered Puck and threatened him when he got too handsy with her. Artie didn't have the balls to stand up to Puck and Britt didn't have the sobriety to fight him off. Eventually, threats became too hard so I gave in and distracted him with kisses. It was just easier that way.

After hours of drinking, I found myself lying on the dirt next to a bush, cradling a cup of some kind of liquor and staring at the sky as it slowly danced around me. I could hear the party going on, but it was dull, like it was coming from a different room. I felt queasy and had to swallow against the hot flood of bile in my throat, suppressing the urge to wretch.

I heard footsteps crunch in the grass and I groaned, ready to roll into a ball if it was Puck coming to cop a feel. "Beat it, Puckerman," I muttered, my words barely audible.

"Here you are," Quinn said, and I could tell by her tone she was pissed. I lolled my head to the side to stare up at her. She crouched down, placing her hand against my shoulder. I was so drunk I couldn't really feel it.

"Whad'dya wan'?" I slurred and frowned at her.

"Santana," She said with a quiet sigh, then stood up and started hollering. "Sam!"

After a few moments a tall, muscled blond boy appeared.

"Guppy face," I said to him, accusingly. He had the biggest lips of anyone I'd ever met.

He grinned, but turned his attention to Quinn. "What's up?"

"Can you carry her?" She pointed to me, then to her car parked over a ways. "She can't walk."

"No problem." He reached down and scooped me up in his arms, cradling me against his chest like I was a child. I hummed in my throat, because the world was moving way too quickly and I needed to throw up.

"Salamander lips." I told him, but I don't think he heard. "Big trouty mouth."

He laughed, as Quinn opened the passenger door, and laid me down in the seat. "Creative, isn't she?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "This is her being nice."

I leaned out of the car and ralphed all over the grass, the vomit spattering on across their feet. Sam grimaced, and Quinn made a disgusted noise.

Quinn closed the door on me and shut me into the silence of the car. I fumbled around with the seat settings and reclined it completely, letting my head slide wherever it wanted to. I was way too drunk.

Quinn came around and opened the driver door and then closed it with a bang. I scowled at her. She started the engine and then began backing up. I lidded my eyes and just listened to the sounds of the car running, before a random thought popped into my head.

"Sorry about Finn." I said into the silence. I wasn't looking at Quinn so I didn't know how she reacted.

"What? What about him?" She sounded puzzled. "Put your seatbelt on."

I ignored her, and just kept my eyes closed, with my cheek pressed against the headrest. "I slep' with him. But he should'a been yours."

Quinn barked out a startled laugh. "Santana, you're drunk," She said, as if that wiped away everything I said. "And if you recall, I wasn't with him. He was sort of dating Rachel at the time. So if you have to apologize, do it to her."

I shook my head, but then stopped, because that made everything woozy. "Still yours."

Quinn was uncomfortable and I could tell. But it was important, because I felt bad about sleeping with Finn ever since I did it. I was never even interested in him – he was big and geeky and puffy, not my type at all. It was a whim, and a way to get back at Berry, whom I hated.

She finally sighed. "Don't be sorry about it. It was never going to be right between us after Puck."

I was drifting off before her voice snapped me out of it. "I'm sorry about that, too." It seemed like it took a lot out of her to say to me.

I pried my eyes open to stare glassily at her. "Huh?"

"Puck." She said it uncomfortably, squeezing the steering wheel. "We slept together while you guys were dating."

I shrugged. "I don't care about Puck." I never really did.

Quinn just sighed, shaking her head slowly.

When we got to her house all the lights were off except the one that lit her back porch. She parked in the driveway, then stepped out to open my door. Her hands were firm on my forearms as she helped me up from the car.

"Can you make it inside?" She hissed in a whisper, and I just nodded. "We have to be extremely quiet. My mom will kill me if she knows we were drinking."

I tried, but I felt like I was walking on clouds, and they kept slipping out from underneath me. My feet stumbled and tripped, and I banged into things. Quinn winced at every noise, but just kept her hands planted firmly on my forearms, guiding me through her dark house and then upstairs, into her bedroom.

She let out a tense breath when the door was finally closed, and I simply slumped into a jumble of limbs on the floor. I intended fully to pass out right there, because her bed was about a mile away, and I was tired of moving.

"Santana." Quinn said, scolding. "Come on. We have to get you changed."

I batted at her hands, curling up in the fetal position. "No. Leave me alone."

"Santana," Quinn said it with more patience, then crouched down beside her. Her big green eyes were full of concern, and she rubbed her palm against my lower back. "Do you feel sick? Do you have to throw up again?"

I shook my head no, but then swallowed the saliva that the motion caused. I felt miserable and I just wanted to dig myself a hole and disappear into it. I couldn't take Quinn's kindness, and the sudden rush of what had happened earlier at the party swamped me. Brittany. Brittany rejecting me to spend time with Wheels. Images of her hugging him and sitting on his lap, pushing his wheelchair and kissing him flooded my brain and I tried to bite back the cry that wrenched itself from by throat, but I couldn't. Sobs were pulling from me, and I just let go, because it hurt too much to hold it in. Quinn laid her hand against the curve of my spine and rested the other one on my shoulder, but didn't rub, just laid her hands there, letting me know I wasn't alone.

"Stop, being, nice, to, me," I said through clenched teeth, and tried to roll away from her, but she caught me easily and then looped my arm over her own shoulder, pulling my waist against her with the other hand, dragging me upwards. I stumbled against her, but she aimed me towards the bed and I landed on it with a soft oomph. I was still crying, but they were dry, wracking sobs, and I muffled them into her pillow.

Quinn just crawled in beside me, not bothering to undress herself or me, and hugged me to her. I smacked at her hands at first, because I didn't want her holding me. I just wanted to curl into a little ball and sob myself out. But eventually I gave in, and let her cuddle close, pulling me into the crook of her neck again. I felt empty and so heavy with anguish, all at once. I almost didn't notice what she was doing at first, but when I did, it made my heart catch in my throat.

She was peppering small, light kisses along my cheek, her lips rubbing over the trails of wetness that the tears had left. She was doing it slowly, gently, while her arms held me and her hands massaged against my back softly. I froze, even in the middle of crying, because I had never felt Quinn's lips against my skin, and I didn't know what to do. They were so soft and so light it made me wonder if I was dreaming.

I stopped crying, because even though my heart was heavy and it ached, I felt something else stirring in it, and it had nothing to do with Brittany. I looked at Quinn through thick, tear-matted eyelashes and tried to understand. I couldn't. The booze in my system was making everything swirl around me and mash together and nothing, especially this, made any sense.

"I don't deserve you being so nice to me," I whispered against her neck, and I felt her pause. She laid down beside me, so that our faces were right next to each other on the pillow, and she lifted a hand to drag it through my hair, smoothing it out behind my head. She worked her fingertips into my scalp, which made it tingle.

"You really think that?" She whispered back, and her eyes were big on mine. I nodded, unable to speak.

Quinn smiled, a small, unsure smile, and then leaned forward, and I felt myself suck in a breath right before my eyes slammed shut, bracing for it. Quinn rubbed her lips against mine, so delicately, the pressure extremely faint. I held my breath as heat swamped my system, making me light headed and dizzy, turning my stomach into a cauldron of nerves and butterflies.

She pulled back, looked at me with her heavy green eyes, and then leaned forward again, pressing her mouth against mine with more pressure. This time I responded, shifting beneath her, opening my mouth slightly to wet the kiss, though I didn't try to go any deeper. I felt like every nerve in my body was centered on our lips, on the slow, excruciating pace of the kiss and the gentle, persistent pressure. It caused my heart to beat in fast, thick beats and tension to coil in my gut, mounting and releasing with every second. I didn't know what to do with my hands. Quinn had stilled hers against my head, but her fingers were still tangled in my hair. I lifted my left hand and framed her face, but softly, careful that too much weight would scare her away.

After a long moment, she pulled back, and the look in on her face was breathtaking. There was a slight blush in her cheeks, and her full lips looked swollen and red. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes searching mine, but I didn't know for what. So I smiled. It was a small one, because I had been crying only moments before and this kissing surprised me, but I still creased my lips into a gentle curve.

She smiled back, relief flooding her face. I had to chuckle. "Just how many did you have to drink, Fabray?"

She shook her head slowly, and then started running her fingers through my hair again. "None."

I smirked at her, because I think that the majority of my drunkenness was wearing off. "I don't believe it. I thought you were one of those girls who had to have a few in you before you started with the lady kisses."

Quinn laughed quietly, then reached down to pull the blankets over us, not bothering to shift our positions any. "What can I say? I guess I'm Santana-sexual."

A/N: Will you believe me if I promise that they aren't going to cry in every chapter? No? I don't blame you.