Fool's Game

by missmandamargo

Santana is sent away to a boarding school when her father walks in on her and Brittany in a compromising situation. She has to face the next year alone, far from friends and Lima. However, there is one surprise she didn't count on - her roommate.

8. Chapter 8

A/N: I love all the reviews, thank you so much!

To answer some questions – yes this is a Quinntana fic, but I thought it had to have some Brittana in it for it to make any sense, and I'm honestly not even sure how it's going to end right now.

Also, after-alcohol-vomit-kisses are the BEST KIND! :D Haha not really. But we've all had them. Or at least I have. Eugh. I wish, in retrospect, that if it had had to happen to me, that it was Naya Rivera's drunken barf-y kiss, but no such luck.

Chapter 8

My head throbbed. Imagine that term they use – splitting headache? Yeah, you've heard of it, right? Well that definitely defined the sharp, immense, repetitive pain that stabbed at my brain. It woke me up, but slowly, because the alcohol had curled its fingers around my mind and anchored me into a state of half-dreaming. My mouth felt like I had chewed on sandpaper, and I felt dry and pretty scummy altogether. I cracked my eyes open, terrified I'd be assaulted by a wave of light, but it was still mostly dark in the room. I was disoriented at first, because I didn't recognize where I was – until I noticed that Quinn's face was smashed on top of my shoulder, her arm resting comfortably over my midsection.

Then my eyes flew open fast, and my body coiled with tension. Oh. My. God. The memories from the night before came rushing back, and with every moment my breathing escalated and my face heated up. It seemed surreal, but one look at my pink-headed friend and it was like my lips buzzed with the recollection, which was something I knew I couldn't dream up even if I tried.

I had to consciously slow my breathing down because it felt like I was headed for hyperventilation-ville. Quinn shifted, lifting her face to where her face was angled more towards mine, and let out a soft little noise. It was kinda cute, but I wasn't trying to think about her being cute right now. I lifted my free arm and began to rub furiously over my face, trying to erase the fogginess that I still felt in my brain. Most of the night was like still frame pictures; click here's one of Brittany sitting on Artie's lap click there's one of Puckerman's face against my cheek click there's Tina helping me find someplace to pee click that big-mouthed boy holding me against his chest.

It got a little clearer after that, mostly because I remember throwing up. Then the awkward car ride with Quinn.. and me crying in her room.. and then us kissing.

My mind stuttered over that realization, because it seemed too unreal. No way Quinn Fabray kissed me – and what had she said, some snarky little comment about being Santana-sexual? Oh, it was too much, way too much for me to think about right now, with the hangover sinking its teeth into me and the heaviness from thoughts of Brittany hanging over my mind.

I was in a crisis, and wasn't really sure what to do about it. It was Saturday, so I knew Quinn's mom would probably be gone for most of the day at her Christian Society Ladies' meetings or what the hell ever she did on the weekends, but I also knew that it was probably before dawn so she's most likely in the house somewhere. I had to pee really badly, I needed a glass of water and I wanted to brush my teeth. I had no idea if Quinn had told her mom that I was staying here, and I didn't want her to freak out thinking I was some lazy home invader with wild bedhead. And it was rare that I ever woke up before Quinn, because she has some kind of internal clock that has her popping up with the sunrise. It was nice to watch her sleep, if even for a little while.

I sighed, resigned myself to the lesser of two evils – facing Quinn's mom. After what Quinn did for me last night, there's no way I'm going to wake her up and bug her about helping me walk around her house. I'm pretty familiar with it anyhow, and I knew there was a bathroom just down the hall.

I slid out from underneath Quinn as carefully as I could, and then tip-toed out of her bedroom, closing the door partially behind me. I crept into the upstairs bathroom, feeling a little bit like a burglar because the house was so quiet and sleepy. I wondered, briefly, what Quinn's mom did all the time, now – since Quinn was away at Atherton, and Quinn's older sister was in college, and Mr. Fabray was staying across town in a condo. I shrugged, pushing the thought out of my mind, and flipped the lights on.

Whoa. I looked like something the cat dragged in. My makeup was smeared and crusty, my skin tone irregular and blotchy, and my hair.. I patted at it ruefully. These are the consequences to going to sleep without proper hygiene, I thought to myself, then promptly sat down at the toilet and peed.

It took a while but I got some of the snags out of my hair and had washed the grit from my face, scrubbing with a makeup remover towelette at the mascara that had pooled beneath my eyes. I realized that Quinn had left my bag in the car, so I settled for smearing toothpaste on my finger and scrubbing around inside my mouth with it for a while. It was enough. I felt better. There was no way I was going to go downstairs to get a cup for some water, so I just dipped my hands beneath the faucet and slurped up some healthy mouthfuls. I dug around in the Fabrays' medicine cabinent before I produced a small plastic bottle that rattled when shook, which made me feel like somehow, somewhere, there is a God.

I dry swallowed four ibuprofen gratefully, took another swig of faucet water, and then flipped the light off and stealth-walked back to Quinn's room.

I watched Quinn sleep for an eerily long amount of time, eyebrows furrowed, a look of concentration on my face. I wasn't sure what to do with this sudden turn of events (sudden? My mind tried to argue with me, but I just slapped it silent) and I was debating on climbing up on bed with her and waking her up with a taste of her own treatment. I grinned briefly at that, and shrugged, though there was no one in the room to see it. Hey – if Quinn wanted to awaken that sleeping giant, then who was I to resist? Plus I'm notorious for following my glands rather than the advice of any kind of good sense.

I was actually moving towards the bed with every aim of kissing Quinn awake before I realized I just wasn't ready for it. It nagged at my conscience because it felt like something I would have no problem doing with a boy, to distract myself from the twinge of losing Brittany to the Crippled Wonder, but this situation had the capability to be extremely volatile and end up utterly backfiring. So I hesitated, and then cursed at myself and my infernal morality. I turned away from her after giving Quinn one long, lingering look, as if trying to persuade myself that she was just too damn hot to care about things like consequences or feelings.. but I knew Quinn deserved more than to be used for her body as a distraction. And though I wasn't feeling particularly generous towards Brittany right now, I knew even she deserved me to treat these circumstances with kid gloves.
I peeled off my sweaty yellow tank and dropped it on the floor, curling my nose at it. I yanked down my jean shorts and then rummaged around in Quinn's drawers, finding an oversized t-shirt with Bob Marley on it. I quirked a brow at it, then shrugged and pulled it on. I didn't bother with any kind of bottoms because I was starting to get drowsy again, and I knew Quinn had thinner hips and longer legs than me, so most of her crap would be tight around the middle and long enough to make me feel absolutely dwarfish.

I carefully crept back into bed with her, doing my best to insinuate myself underneath her arms and not wake her all at once. "You're so lucky I'm a decent person, Blondie," I muttered, feeling sleep drag at my eyes the moment I became horizontal. "You woulda been in for a hell of a surprise."

The next thing I knew, I could feel somebody trailing their fingers along my stomach, and my eyes flew open, immediately locking with Quinn's own. She had a deviant smirk plastered on her face, but aside from that, the first thing I noticed was that her hair was wet and she smelled like some kind of goddess. I groaned, swiping the back of my hand over my eyes. "How do you do that?" I asked her thickly.

She was lying on her side with her head propped up by her fist, her free hand dragging those lazy circles across my midriff. "Hmm?" She didn't stop smiling.

"You're like a sneaky morning ninja," I told her, accusingly, still using a fist to rub the sleepy grit from one of my eyes. "You always get up and move around without waking me up." I narrowed my eyes at her. "And I know for a fact that I was laying on you, so I don't see how you moved me without waking me up."

Quinn chuckled, stilling her fingers against my stomach, and then laid her palm flat. It radiated warmth and made my belly jump. "Santana, I hate to break it you, but you sleep like a hyper kid suddenly hit with a huge dose of NyQuil,"

I scowled at her, suppressing a yawn. "Nope, no way, Tinkerbell. I've spent way too many sleepless nights next to snoring, grunting boys or in bed with Britt, who kicks and holds bizarre conversations all night long."

Quinn's eyebrow shot up with a grin. "Speaking of sleep conversations.."

I fought back another groan, rolling my eyes. "I don't buy it, Q, so don't even try. I've never had anyone tell me I talk in my sleep before."

"Suit yourself." Her lips quirked upwards slightly, and she had a smug look of superiority on her face, which seemed to say, you're cute, so I'll humor you.

I stretched, which hitched the t-shirt up higher on my body, and it hit me with sudden force that I wasn't wearing any shorts.. and Quinn's hand was resting right below my belly button. My eyes grew wide with the realization, and I had to quickly divert my gaze, because Quinn was looking at me with those heavy, knowing eyes, and I was pretty sure she'd see the flood of desire there and I'd be found out for sure. I cleared my throat and then gingerly picked her wrist up with two fingers, daintily laying it on the bed beside me, patting the top of it once.

Quinn laughed. "Scared I have cooties?"

I grinned in response. "Hmm, no. I'm pretty sure you're too much of a prude to ever catch anything," I rolled and sat up on my knees in one quick motion, then reached up to smooth down my hopelessly wild hair. "I just think it's too early for a quickie in the morning."

Quinn shifted her eyes over to a bedside alarm clock and pouted her lips a little bit. "But it's almost noon."

I choked on the sudden laughter, all at once shocked and delighted by this innocent-but-not flirting of hers. It was going to make things so much more interesting. "Listen up, Blondie," I told her with some solemnity, "I think you're extremely fine. And I'm definitely fighting against my better judgment by not just jumping you right here and now." I was surprised at my own candidness, but if Quinn was flirting, why couldn't I? "But I think we needs to take this a little slow. Like, hmm, maybe give ourselves time to think about.. what it means or whatever." I trailed off, scanning my eyes down her body's profile, catching at the curve of her hip and then again at her breast. When my eyes settled back on hers, she was smirking.

"Basically, you has to get right with yourself and your God," I told her firmly, giving myself a mental shake. Nothing good would come of me acting on my brash, lewd impulses or being caught up in Quinn's sexy pixie powers. "But, I'm more than willing to help you itch your bi-curious scratch, so to speak, as long as you enter into it knowing that it.. just is what it is." I nodded. "It's kind of my duty as resident bisexual, you know? I have to offer my services to the questioning youth of Ohio." I told her innocently.

Quinn just laughed, shaking her head. "I'm so sure."

"I just didn't want this to turn into some kind of Coyote Ugly situation for you," I told her, because I really didn't. No matter what else happened between Quinn and I, she was someone I had let inside – and that rarely happened. I cared about her, and I didn't want to hurt her. "Like, we have our night of wild passionate lovemaking, then in the morning light you glance over.. see me sleeping next to you, hair all sexy and crazy, maybe showing a bit of boob.. then you run off to your pastor and ask him to preform and exorcism or something."

"You are such a drama queen," Quinn said wonderingly, but she was still smiling. "All right, Santana, I hear you. And even though I hate to admit it you do kind of make sense." She seemed genuinely surprised at that, and I lowered my eyebrows in a scowl. She didn't miss a beat. "After some careful thought and consideration I have come to the conclusion that I would like very much to sleep with you, please."

My eyes flew open and I almost stuttered, which was horrifying enough, but the casualness of Quinn's tone and the delivery of her words shocked the hell out of me. "Damn, Quinn, way to bury the lead!" I told her, suppressing a breathless laugh. I was fighting off the furious blush that wanted to color my cheeks, and was fidgeting nervously on the bed. Something about the way she said 'please'..

Oh, god, get a grip, Santana! I mentally chastised myself, and tried to look anywhere other than Quinn's face.

"Okay, while I completely understand your enthusiasm to get all up on this," I told her, swallowing thickly, "I still think we ought to wait. Maybe a week or something, hell, I don't know. No way you're that sure of it, so soon."

Quinn shrugged, and it was hitting me that she was more and more like a lazy jungle cat, watching its prey scurry around, completely unfazed.

"Why not?" Quinn asked quietly, then laid the flat of her palm against the bare skin of my thigh. It was like a brand ignited beneath her hand, making my muscles twitch and skin burn. "Aren't you?"

I huffed out a weak laugh because it was starting to get hard to concentrate. "Uh, yeah. Completely sure, Tink." I shifted. "But this isn't my first rodeo, if you know what I mean. It's got to be different for you."

"Hmm." Quinn cocked her head speculatively. "I'm pretty well educated about the dynamics of sex, Santana," She pursed her lips into a smile. "I mean, even if I don't have your firsthand knowledge.."

I scowled, slapping her hand away from me. She laughed, and I melted just a little bit, though I crinkled my brow in irritation.

"Look, what you've got going on right now, this sly, sexy vixen thing, or whatever?" I gestured between us, because even though I was sitting up and she was reclining, it was clear she had the upper hand. "Totally working. But I'm being serious. Let's give it some time."

Quinn's face flashed in a moment of seriousness, but the expression was swallowed up by an even more lascivious look. God, where was she pulling these from? It was like she had some magic bag of sex tricks hidden somewhere beneath that chaste little sun dress, and her wicked mind just waiting to spring it on unsuspecting people at any moment.

"I have a.. challenge for you," She said wryly, and I felt my mouth begin to water. I had to swallow.

"What's what, Blondie?"

"It's more of a bet, really," She said with self-possessed disinterest, as if she had already made up in her mind who would win this little competition. I cocked my head. "I bet that I can last longer than you."

"What do you mean, last..? How could you possibly begin to know how long I can last?" I asked, incredulous. Quinn's eyes popped way open and it was gratifying to see shock register on her features.

"Oh, god! No, not like that," Quinn hissed, and then regained her composure. "I just meant that I can get you to give in and have sex with me before you can get me to give in." She flashed me a self-assured grin.

I just chuckled, angling my body towards her, my body language becoming abruptly more dominant and domineering. I smirked at her subtle intake of breath. "No way, Q. No way your powers of seduction are better than mine, and that's a fact."

She smiled then, a pretty smile, the old-Quinn smile. "Then you have nothing to worry about."

"Do I have to remind you, Tinkerbell," I said with seriousness, "That just a few minutes ago you were groping me and trying to get me to defile you in your bed..?" I grinned, splaying my fingers in front of me in a gesture that read: see where we are?

Quinn chuckled, not at all bothered at this little fact. "Santana, you've got it all wrong," She said, tilting her head towards me. "I wasn't at all trying to get you to defile me. I fully intended to defile you."

I had to swallow my grin and almost swallowed my tongue as well, because the remark was so unexpected. Heat crept up my neck and tinged my cheeks again. "Wow, Q. I completely underestimated your sexual prowess." I admitted, a mite guiltily. "Where do you even come up with this stuff? Some weird meek-in-the-streets, freak-in-the-sheets Christian girl handbook?"

Quinn laughed, and then sat up, turning away from me. "It's a natural talent."

I studied her back as she bent down and picked up a discarded article of clothing, falling silent. I was consumed in studying her behind when she spoke again, breaking me out of my trance.

"So do we have a deal?" Quinn asked, turning to face me, her brows raised.

I studied her for a moment, trying to understand the down side of this offer. "Let me just make totally sure I understand you, Q. You want us to engage in a no-holds-barred flirtation-slash-seduction marathon, with the intention of having sex sometime, but with both of us trying to make the other 'give in' and relent first?" I chuckled at Quinn's prim smile. "Piece of cake, Blondie. I promise you have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

Her smile broadened. "We'll see."

I sighed, running my fingers through my hair as Quinn began tidying up her room. "What do you want to do today?"

She continued cleaning up the disarray, without turning back towards me. "I thought you had plans with Brittany today?"

My face darkened in a glower. "No, she had a prior engagement with Wheels. We're supposed to go to a movie tomorrow, but I'm really not feeling it." There was still a hollow feeling in my chest approximately where my heart was located when I thought of Brittany and Artie, and how our relationship had seemed to change overnight – how she was suddenly giving Go-Go-Gadget precedence over the wonder that is Santana Lopez, and I felt cast adrift, unable to anchor myself to anything. It was a lot like drowning on dry land. I had to shake away the feeling, deciding it wasn't worth it to ruin my weekend over. Besides, Quinn had just offered herself as a marvelous distraction.

Quinn was folding and re-folding a towel, not looking at me. "If you want.." She trailed off, then shook her head slightly. "Well, I know you're not going to want to, but you don't really have any other choice.." My anxiety was growing due to her reluctance to just spit it out. I had a dismaying sense that I was not going to like whatever she was about to say.

"I made plans last night to hang out with Finn and Rachel today." She said it like she was resigned to me flipping out, and steeled herself against it. "Sam is coming."

"Sam?" I asked, curiously. "That fishy-lipped boy? He's cute." I told her, trying to fight the sudden flare of jealousy I felt. Nope, not gonna do this, Lopez.

Quinn eyed me dryly. "I know. But I'm not interested in any boys right now," The way she said it seemed to imply that the thought of her and the Golden Boy was absolutely ludicrous.

"Well, I'm not willingly signing up to be the fifth wheel to that lovely little set up," I told her, sneering a bit. "I can only handle Rachel Berry in very, very low doses. Like, nonexistent doses. Basically I get irritated if I know she's in the same time zone as me."

Quinn chuckled, my lips pulling into her mouth as if she was fighting laughing despite herself. "What did she ever do to you, anyway?"

I widened my eyes at her. "What did she ever do to me? Quinn, you aren't serious. She's a freakish dwarf mutant with the fashion sense of a demented preschooler. I mean, her nose? Really? It's an affront to God and nature. Her voice is like a harpy's yell. And she is positively, absolutely—"

Quinn held up her hand, palm outwards, in the universal signal to stop. I huffed, because I was just getting warmed up, and I hadn't gone on a rant about Berry in a while.

"Rachel is probably one of the most annoying people I've ever met," Quinn stated, and I nodded, because who was being Captain Obvious? "Still, she's.. sweet. She's not a bad person."

I sighed, shaking my head at Quinn like she was hopeless. "Q, you don't get it. Rachel is not even a human, she's from Middle Earth, and I'm almost certain they don't have souls."

Quinn cracked a huge grin despite herself. "Santana, you never cease to amaze me with your vicious wit."

I smiled, tilting my head at her. "I can keep 'em coming all day."

Quinn was digging around in her dresser now, and produced one of her Sunday go-to-meetin' dresses. She turned around and waved it at me. "If you don't be nice, I'll make you wear this," She threatened, and my insults dried up in my mouth.

"Not over my dead body, Quinn Fabray," I told her solemnly. Then I frowned. "Why do you dress like Polly Pocket, anyway?" My tone was genuinely interested. "Because you have one of the most amazing bodies I have ever seen," I told her honestly, nodding at her raised brow. "You owe it to mankind to show it off. I'm pretty sure there's a law about it somewhere."

"Santana," Quinn said dryly, "I just choose not to flaunt myself like.. well, like you do,"

"And thank god for that," I chimed in. "You would cause havoc in the streets. Poor, unsuspecting men everywhere would get distracted and crash their cars into bridges. Women would faint with envy. It would be widespread pandemonium." Quinn laughed.

"But there is a way for you to avoid looking like Mandy Moore in A Walk to Remember and look more, I don't know, normal."
Quinn tilted her head at me. "Don't you get enough of a show when I wear my Atherton uniform?"

I smirked at her. "It's not just for my benefit, Blondie. It's for your own. You deserve it to yourself to stop dressing like a preacher's daughter."
Quinn smiled, because she couldn't hold it in anymore. "How about I promise to let you play dress up with me sometime?"

My face blossomed in a huge grin. "Wanky, Fabray. Very wanky."

She cleared her throat and then changed the subject. "So, are you going to come with us? Me, Finn, Rachel, and Sam?"

"Definitely no. I'll just walk around a park or something 'til you're done. I wouldn't be able to watch Sam make googly eyes at you, or Finn devour Rachel like one of those octopus-faced aliens sucking the life out of somebody."

Quinn even grimaced at that. "Yeah, it doesn't sound appealing to me either."

"Then let's ditch 'em. We'll get our Breadstix on or something. I am in serious need of a manny-peddy, girl," I told her, flashing her my nails with a look of long suffering, though they were, as always, perfect.

Quinn smiled at me, seeming to be genuinely amused. "Why don't you just invite Puck or something, make it a triple date?"

My face immediately glowered. "Are you serious? I bet he hasn't even had the chance to wash the smell of skank off him from last night. No, no thank you, Noah Puckerman is definitely not on my list of appropriate consorts."

Quinn hummed, digging around in her nightstand, though I wasn't sure precisely what for. "What about Mike Chang? Or Dave Karofsky?"

I grimaced. "Okay, where are you on your Facebook relationship status changes, because hello? Mike and Tina have been Asian Fusion for, like, a month now. Also, David Karofsky looks like a bull mated with a gorilla and he is their unfortunate offspring. Definitely no." I picked at the bed spread speculatively. "Plus, he's a total douche. I remember how much shit he gave you last year."

"Oh, yes," Quinn said, her eyes gaining a faraway look. "My first ever slushie."

"Who knew that shit was so fucking demoralizing?" I said with genuine feeling. "I probably wouldn't have iceberg'd Berry as often if I had known." I paused. "Well, no. Scratch that. I probably still would have." I mulled the thought over for a moment. "But not Tina. No, I feel bad, knowing how often I drenched her before joining New Directions." A satisfied nod.

"One of the many perks of attending a snooty private school," Quinn said to me, "At least they don't have slushie machines."

"Agreed."

Quinn sighed, running her fingers through her faded pink hair. It was starting to look like it needed to be touched up, but that was because the pink was the washout kind. "This is the dilemma, Santana," She said finally. "I'm not going to ditch Sam, Finn, and Rachel. But I'm not going to let you wander around Lima alone on a Saturday. So you have to bite the bullet and invite another one of our friends to go to the mall with us."

I rolled my eyes. "You're two for two, Blondie, because absolutely no way am I stepping one foot in that mall. That's where Barftie is going to be." I made a fake gagging noise. "Way too soon for me to see them in their post-coital bliss."

Quinn scrunched her face up at me, like I was some difficult problem that she was honor bound to solve. I sighed, because she was just too cute with that look on her face. "Will it satisfy you if I offer to go shopping with Mercedes, somewhere far, far away from the mall?"

Quinn smiled. "Yes."

I grabbed my phone and began texting. "Okay, but you can't leave me alone with Aretha all day," I told her, warningly. "She's all right. But again, in small doses. We're both too gangster to be around each other for very long."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Santana, you are so far from gangster that you're almost hipster."

"What!" I looked at her, scandalized. "No hay manera, princesa. I spent summers in Lima Heights Adjacent with mi abuela, she's not a nice lady. I sometimes even hide razor blades in my weave."

Quinn laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "I never realized how comedic you are."

"No comedy here, babe," I said, glancing back down at my phone. "Just pure truth."

Xxxx

I was standing with Mercedes in front of a display of shoes, trying to figure out if I could successfully shove that pair of knee high gold pumps into my bag before the middle aged attendant returned in order to "help us," though I was pretty sure she was just hanging around because I'm Hispanic and Mercedes is black, so of course we're going to shoplift. Well, I fully intended to, but that didn't stop her from being utterly racist for assuming it.

Kurt had tagged along, which I sincerely wasn't happy about, because he's nearly as annoying as Rachel Berry, and he made me want to stab myself in the ears with a screwdriver to shut up the sound of his prissy whining. Seriously, Hummel? My great aunt Rosa has more cojones than you, and she's 87. I blinked, then realized Tia Rosa actually has a beard, something that was far out of reach of Kurt, and the comparison was less amusing and more disturbing, even in my head.

"So, Santana," Kurt said, cautiously, thumbing through a display rack that had hideous sweaters and scarfs. I scowled at him. "How do you like your new school?"

"It's an estrogen overload, Clay Aiken," I said, distractedly, because Mercedes was uncovering another set of gorgeous pumps from the shoe boxes in front of us. "You'd fit right in."

Mercedes laughed a little bit. "Girl, how do you handle that? I mean, no boys at all?"

Kurt arched one finely waxed eyebrow. "Sounds like a mix between a dream come true and my own personal nightmare."

I smirked, then shrugged. "It's not so bad. Quinn and I are roommates, so it's not as hard as it could be. We have a lot of classes together."

Mercedes shook her head slowly. "No, it sounds terrible. I mean, no boys, at all, you live the same place you go to school, and almost nonstop contact with Quinn." She huffed out a laugh. "I lived with Quinn once, remember? Granted, she was pregnant then, but it wasn't a piece of cake. And we didn't even share a room."

I smiled at her, because it had been really nice of Mercedes to let Quinn live with her during the last trimester of her pregnancy. "Quinn is actually kind of useful to have around. She knows how to do all kinds of beneficial tasks, like fold laundry and make beds." I made a grimace. "That's what cleaning ladies are for, y soy demasiada bonita aprender." I smiled sweetly to their blank and confused faces.

"I was right here for that, and even I'm not sure if you were complimenting Quinn or insulting her," Kurt said, as if in a daze. "Brava."

I smirked at him, patting him gently on his cherubic cheek. "That's okay, Hummel. One day you will graduate from Nancy Fairy Class, and join the real world of adult topics."

Mercedes just laughed. "It's just not the same around here without you, Satan."

I flashed her a grin, then layered my arm through hers, guiding us towards the door of the department store. "Of course it isn't. But don't worry, Auntie Tana will drop back in from time to time, to remind you all how much you missed me."

Kurt rolled his eyes and issued a stage sigh.

Mercedes checked her phone as we were leaving, and then tapped it forcefully. "Sam wants us to meet him and everyone at Breadstix. He says they already called to reserve a booth." She flashed a toothy smile, and I returned it with unabashed enthusiasm. Besides me, I don't know anybody else who loves Breadstix like Mercedes.

"Oh, it's 'bout to get reals up in here, y'all," I said to them as we approached Kurt's giant black SUV. "I am going through Breadstix withdrawals. You all might want to steel yourself for the spectacle you are about to witness."

Mercedes laughed, climbing into the front seat, and I took the back. I grinned, pulling open my purse, and showed Mercedes the earrings I had filched, along with a bottle of that cologne Kurt had been trying not to act like he wanted, because I was pretty sure he's too poor to afford it. "Here, now don't ever say I never gave you anything."

Kurt looked absolutely horrified. "Oh my god, Santana, did you steal that?"

I chuckled. "You're so observant, Kurt, I don't know how anything gets by you."

"Santana," Mercedes said with more severity in her tone. "You have money. Why would you steal anything?"

I quirked a brow at her, because her tone was edging in close to sanctimonious, and I really didn't want to have to give her a beat down right before I ate. "It's not about money, Wheezy," I said, and shrugged, making to tuck the earrings and cologne back into my purse.

"Uh, well! I guess that's cool. You know," Mercedes said, and I just smiled at her knowingly and then handed the earrings over.

"What about you, Kurt? You okay with accepting stolen merchandise?"

Kurt thought it over a minute, and then glanced at the proffered bottle of cologne through his rearview mirror. He sighed. "I will accept your gift, Santana, but only because it's like watching a dog walk on its hind legs to see you be even remotely nice to me. I need a momento."

I chuckled. "Whatever gets you through the night."

We pulled into Breadstix and I hopped out of the car. I was wearing a knee-length jean skirt with a black top and a matching jacket. My hair was curled and styled and held immaculately in place with plenty of product, and I knew I looked good. I caught some stocking boy ogling me back at the store.

As we walked into the restaurant, I brushed past the hostess, making a beeline for the huge circular booth that already had Finn, Rachel, Sam, and Quinn in it, in that order. I smiled a bright hello at them and then slid in beside Quinn, not quite able to hide the mischievous smirk I planted on my face. It had been several hours since I'd seen the blond, and the only thing I could think about was that ridiculous wager she made with me. I was so totally going to give her a little taste of what she was in for tonight. "Hey there, Ken and Barbie," I said, then inclined my head to Rachel and Finn, not entirely able to hide the look of sheer disgust I had on my face. "Shamoo. Hobbit."

Rachel, for her credit, only furrowed her brow at me and attempted to reign in on whatever annoying thing she was going to say. "Hello Santana. It's nice to see you again."

I just raised a brow at her because I didn't believe that for a second. "Rachel, it's okay, I know you're just being nice to me because you think I'm a minority that needs your help because I'm less fortunate than you. I'm sorry to be the one to break it to you, but if I had a face like yours, I'd probably go around with a hockey mask on. So don't do me any favors." I nodded at her with mock empathy.

"Wow!" Sam said, his eyebrows raised. "Uh, well, that was.. hmm."

Quinn just smiled at him, and it made me scowl a tiny bit. "Don't look Rachel directly in the eye," I told him solemnly. "She's got the powers of Medusa. She'll probably try to spruce up her statue collection. I'm sure it's sadly lacking any human-fish hybrids."

Sam just frowned at this, making a decidedly dopey face. Quinn nudged me hard in the ribs. I jumped, then lifted a hand to rub at the sore spot.

"Santana," Rachel said, perplexed. "I really want to know whatever it is I did to offend you. I'm ready to apologize for it right now if it's some kind of misunderstanding-"

"Rachel!" I stopped her mid-sentence, and she jumped. "You have officially fulfilled your speaking quota while around me. No, no!" I told her, lifting a finger and pointing towards the ceiling. "Shh. If you keep talking, the sound is going to draw sailors to their doom. Let's have quiet time, Rachel."

Rachel huffed, crossed her arms over her chest, and looked down at the menu. Finn, wisely, decided to say nothing.

Kurt and Mercedes finally made their way over, and shuffled into the booth, wedging me between Mercedes and Quinn, while Kurt sat at the very edge.

The waitress brought everyone their drinks and took everyone's order, and after that I decided to stop torturing Rachel, at least for a little bit. Quinn was repeatedly jabbing me in the ribs, in the exact same spot, every time I made a sardonic comment, and it was really starting to hurt. I glared at her but she pretended not to notice, all sunshine and smiles for her Boy Wonder. Rachel droned on and on about glee club and their set list for sectionals, and Kurt talked about some meaningless fashion show coming up. Mercedes and I exchanged a glance, because I knew she was almost as bored as I was.

Well, she didn't have the option of entertaining herself with one very hot blond – even if Quinn did dress like one of those women from a religious compound who had never been inside a clothing store other than WalMart – so my heart went out to her. Just a little bit. I waited until Quinn was distracted by the words pouring out of Sam's disproportionately huge mouth before I began. I laid my right hand against her thigh, while my left dabbled with my silverware and my soda nonchalantly. I felt her shift in her seat, but I kept staring at something particularly interesting across the restaurant, not meeting her gaze.

I began to slowly, slowly, inch up the hem of her dress, a small, innocent smile quirking my lips every time she turned her distressed stare towards my face. I began to trace my fingertips slowly against her bare thigh, and for a moment she locked eyes with me, and I had to bite back a chuckle at the alarm I saw. It gave me a heady rush to be in control, and so able to throw her off kilter, right in plain sight.

She tried to ignore me, and even reached down to pinch my thigh with her own hand, but she was distracted both by trying to keep up appearances and by the slow, soft trails I was making up and down her leg with just my fingertips. I reached down with my opposite hand and caught her wrist easily, smiling blandly at whatever Kurt was blathering on about. I felt Quinn's thigh twitch and I caught the subtle hitch in her voice when she replied to a direct question. It made me grin like the Cheshire cat.

I grazed my fingernail against her skin and she jumped, but tried played it off as a simple body shift. I did a quick inventory of everyone's face, and I knew they didn't suspect anything. A glance at Quinn confirmed what my instincts were telling me – her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were glazing over, the pupils dialating. She kept biting her lip and looking down at the table, as if the wood grain was of utmost interest to her. I was working my way up higher on her thigh, occasionally increasing the pressure or intensifying the sensation with the scrape of a nail, when suddenly Quinn locked her thighs together and wrenched her wrist out from my grasp, glaring at me. I snickered, raising my eyebrows at her, but didn't remove my trapped hand. I looked like the cat who ate the canary.

The waitress brought us our food, and I began the demand for Breadstix early, because we were a large table and the bread sticks here are the only carbs I ever officially allow myself. I behaved myself while we ate, because Quinn looked like she was ready to slap me or jump me, and since there was only a fifty/fifty chance of that working out in my favor, I decided to let her cool off. That didn't stop me from edging in as close to her as possible, pressing my own hip and thigh against her, practically sitting on her lap. She was disconcerted but trying hard to play it off. It was delicious to watch.

After the first round of plates were cleared away and I was preparing to launch my second attack, I was burst out of my hazy seduction master plan by a voice that still had the ability to make my heart stutter, though now it did that and flopped in panic, because I felt like I was a kid with my hand caught in the cookie jar.

"Santana!" Brittany said brightly, walking by our booth. She smiled, and Artie rolled up beside her. She was wearing a long green dress and her hair was done in an elaborate up-do, diamond earrings winking at her ears. She looked sophisticated and more mature, somehow. "Everyone!" She said by way of greeting to everybody else. They all smiled and said hello.

I just locked eyes with her, and I could feel the fire in my cheeks. I ignored Quinn's pointed eyebrow raise and slowly, ever so slowly, shifted away from her.

"I didn't know you guys were all here, or we would have come sooner," Artie said, oblivious to the silent conversation Brittany and I were having over the table. I think most people were either unaware or just didn't care, but I knew Quinn was watching it. And the look on her face was less than pleased.

"Yeah, why didn't you tell me?" Brittany directed it to nobody in particular, but her eyes were glued to mine. I swallowed, then lifted a brow and looked briefly at Wheels. She sagged a little bit, the smile in her face dimming a tad. "Oh. I see."

Everyone else was looking around at each other, trying to catch whatever they missed.

"It's okay, Britt," Quinn said brightly. "You two are on a date, right? You look really pretty."

Britt smiled at that, tugging at the tight green material that hugged her body. "Yeah, I just got this dress, isn't it perfect?"

I rolled my eyes, because I knew what Quinn was doing. She was so deft at it that maybe nobody else would notice, but I was wising up to her. She was both pointing out that Brittany had not been invited but making her cheer up by complimenting her clothes. It was borderline sneaky-mean, and I didn't like it.

Artie looked up at Brittany, and the sight was almost comical, because Britt was wearing silver strapy stilettos and it made her tower over him even more. They looked like one of those weird off-kilter couples that always made you wonder just exactly how they managed to have sex, since their bodies were so utterly different. My stomach roiled at the thought, and I put my napkin down on top of my plate. I was done eating.

"Well, we have to go, we have a table waiting," Artie said, in his quavering voice, that couldn't decide whether it was being demanding or simpering. Brittany reluctantly turned with him to go, but flashed me one final look over her shoulder.

I was completely silent in the car ride back to Quinn's house, because I knew what was coming. She looked like a mad pixie queen the rest of the night, her face tight and pinched, her eyes hot and angry. We hadn't stayed very long after Brittany and Artie arrived, but it was uncomfortable, at least for me. I could feel the wall of irritation coming off of her like it was a tangible force, and I really wasn't looking forward to what was about to happen when we were alone.

Quinn didn't say anything, just fumed mutely, and for the first time ever, I felt myself pitying poor Finn and Puck for what they had had to go through as Quinn's official boyfriend (or, in Puck's case, her baby daddy). Yikes. How could somebody be so enraged that fire practically shot out of their ears, but so controlled that you could basically feel the ice in the room? Quinn was a little scary like this, and that's coming from me.

I knew I'd stepped in it and so I did my best to not draw attention to myself, even as we reached her house and made the wordless trip to her room. I was just sitting down my bag and turning to her, the tension in my body echoing that of a person afraid that they are about to be rushed by a bull, when she just walked up to me, grabbed my head in between her hands, and pulled my face into a kiss.

A/N: Really sorry to leave it like that, guys, but this is the longest chapter I've written and I have to break it up somewhere. I didn't plan to write the other characters very much, but this all just came to me, so I hope I'm doing a good job keeping them in character. I know some of my Santana lines are lame, but I'm not as spitefully brilliant as the Glee writers. Let me know whatcha think!