Author's note: Hi everyone! I'm so sorry about the loooonnnngggg delay between updates - a combination of writer's block and life got in the way. Anyways, here's chapter 15. I'm a bit out of practise so it would be good to know what you think! xx

Chapter Fifteen: Test the Limits

Standing trembling with her back against the solid wood of the bathroom door, Quinn took a deep breath and tried to get a hold on her emotions. Her heart pounded erratically as adrenaline coursed through her body. She knew that she ought to go back and talk it out with Santana but she needed to calm down first or this was only going to turn into a bigger fight than it already was.

As she ran a hand through her messy blonde hair, Quinn caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror. Her skin was pale other than two bright red patches on her cheeks, and her teeth were clenched in frustration. Quinn scowled at her reflection and unaccountably felt a little better.

She wasn't ready to talk to Santana yet, and for her part, Santana seemed set on giving Quinn the space she'd demanded as the brunette hadn't knocked on the door or tried to follow her into the bathroom. Quinn was never one for inaction, she always thought things through better when she was doing something, so she pulled the box of cleaning supplies out from under the sink and set about scrubbing the bathroom until every surface gleamed and shone.

As she worked, she reasoned her way through her reaction to Santana's confession. She'd meant what she said - Santana's happiness was truly the most important thing to her. She'd known Santana was struggling with college life, but Santana hadn't really let her know just how bad she was feeling... or had she? Quinn remembered the incident back in early November when Santana had pitched a fit about her chemistry homework. A number of similar occurrences suddenly came back to her from the past few months... maybe Santana had been trying to tell her she wasn't happy with school, but Quinn hadn't been listening. But none of that changed the fact that Santana had made a huge life decision without talking it over with her, and Quinn wasn't ready to forgive her for that just yet.

She scrubbed at a stubborn mark on one of the floor tiles and huffed out an irritated breath. What was really bothering her, she realized, was why Santana hadn't talked her decision through with Quinn first. Did she really believe that Quinn wouldn't be supportive? If so, maybe they had a bigger problem than either of them had known. Quinn had gone all out to prove to Santana how much she trusted her, even as recently as last night, but maybe Santana didn't trust Quinn. Anger faded into worry as Quinn tried to second guess her fiancée's motivations. A wave of apathy hit her and she slid down the wall to sit on the cold, tiled floor. How long she sat there for she didn't know, but she was eventually pulled out of her reverie by a frantic knocking on the door.

"Q, stop screwing around in there," Santana snapped from the other side of the door. "Open up, I need to pee!" She sounded pissed off, and her tone elicited a fresh wave of anger in Quinn. Couldn't Santana act contrite, even once? Maybe Quinn had overreacted, but Santana had been wrong to act without discussing it with her. She waited a minute or two longer, the irrational childish part of her wanting to make Santana suffer until she was good and desperate, then she wearily climbed to her feet and unlocked the bathroom door. Santana pushed past her before she'd even made it through the doorway, and then it was her turn to slam the door.

The girls continued to dance around each other for the next few hours, neither one of them quite willing to be the bigger person and open up the lines of communication. Sooner or later they were going to have to sit down and thrash it out, but for now they were consumed with licking their wounds and protecting their bruised egos.

It was hard to avoid each other in an apartment the size of a postage stamp, but the girls went about their routines without interacting with each other. Santana moved restlessly around the apartment, starting tasks but never finishing. She picked up a fashion magazine and idly flicked through a few pages before tossing it aside with a frustrated sigh. She spent several minutes toying with her cell phone, before abandoning it to switch on the TV. She clicked aimlessly through the stations, not settling on any of them for more than a few seconds. Eventually, she gave up, switched off the TV, and started to paint her fingernails.

For her part, Quinn continued her cleaning blitz, clearing away the remains of breakfast and checking the fridge for out of date takeout containers, wiping down the surfaces and reorganising the contents of the kitchen cupboards. Every so often she could feel Santana's eyes boring into her back but they continued to maintain their stony silence. Periodically, Quinn opened her mouth to try to talk to Santana, but she kept finding herself tongue tied.

Quinn's cell phone chirped from the nightstand and she sighed inwardly. Even without checking the text message, she knew it would be from Rachel, confirming details for dinner. A cursory glance at the screen confirmed it. Her friends were meeting downtown at seven at a Mexican place that she knew Santana loved. Part of Quinn wanted to crawl back into bed and hide, but another part of her was craving the company of her friends right now. She glanced over at the back of her fiancee's head and chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip.

"San?" she said hesitantly and watched the brunette turn expectantly. The look in Santana's dark eyes was icy and Quinn felt a shiver run the length of her spine. "That was Rachel," Quinn continued now that she had Santana's attention. "Do you still want to go out tonight? Because I can cancel?"

Santana scowled. "That depends," she said huffily, "on whether or not you're ashamed to be seen with me now that I'm a dumb college dropout."

"For heaven's sake," muttered Quinn under her breath. She sat down at the foot of the bed and locked her gaze on the tense and angry brunette. "San, I'm not ashamed. I love you, and I'll support you. But I can't pretend I'm not worried, and I can't pretend that it doesn't hurt that you did this without talking to me." She ran a weary hand through her hair. "Can we just go out and try to forget about all of this for a few hours? Please?" She was surprised by the slight tinge of desperation she heard in her voice. Santana seemed to pick up on it too because, after a moment's hesitation, she nodded curtly, then turned her attention back to her nail polish, leaving Quinn to arrange the details.

By the time the girls left the apartment, the atmosphere between them had thawed a little - it had become chilly rather than frosty. Both of them were relieved to be getting out of the apartment for a while, to the extent that they arrived at the restaurant twenty minutes early and had to wait for their friends to arrive.

By the time the food and the conversation were flowing, Quinn was starting to relax a little. She was sandwiched between Kurt and Rachel, and sitting across from Santana who was flanked by Blaine and Sam. Santana seemed to be going out of her way to show Quinn how unaffected she was by their fight. She was glowing as she told their friends about her commercial shoot, her eyes sparkled in the candlelight and Quinn found herself getting lost in her exquisite features. In the middle of Santana's story, Quinn couldn't resist reaching for her hand across the table. Santana seemed surprised by the sudden contact but she squeezed Quinn's fingers and afforded her a small smile as she started to stroke Quinn's palm with her thumb.

"So, I decided that I'm not going back to school next semester," Santana said, drawing her story to a close with a flourish. Four pairs of eyes were fixed upon the brunette while Quinn focussed on their entwined fingers, and bit the inside of her cheek. She took a long drink from her wine glass, then reached for the bottle to top it up.

"Wow," Kurt replied, shaking his head and smiling at Santana. "That's huge. I can't believe you waited until dessert to tell us!"

"Welcome to the real world," Sam told her with a chuckle. He offered her his fist to bump, and with a half-smile, half-grimace, Santana responded in kind.

"Congratulations, Santana," Rachel said, without even the tiniest hint of resentment. "I'm happy for you. I'm sure you'll do amazing." Quinn was astounded. At the very least she'd expected a touch of jealousy from Rachel. The diva loved being the star of their group and now she was going to have to share the spotlight, but she was acting like this was the best news she'd ever heard. Even Blaine was grinning and seemed intrigued by the idea.

"You are staying in New York though, right?" Kurt asked curiously. "You're not planning to jump ship to LA or anything?"

Quinn suddenly felt claustrophobic in the hot, crowded restaurant and she realized she really didn't want to hear Santana's answer. "Excuse me," she said, scraping back her chair and jumping to her feet. "I need to use the restroom."

"I'll come with you." Rachel was looking at her curiously, and Quinn couldn't say no, so she simply nodded and waited for Rachel to lead the way through the tightly packed tables.

Once in the restroom, Quinn locked herself securely into a stall and tried to get a handle on her emotions. She was breathing hard and she could feel the blood pounding in her ears. She wanted nothing more than to stay in the quiet, cool bathroom for the rest of the evening, but that simply wasn't an option, so after an appropriate amount of time she exited the cubicle and headed to the sink to wash her hands whilst Rachel leant against the wall and studied her intently.

"What?" Quinn barked, a little harsher than she'd intended, but Rachel didn't seem offended by her tone.

"You're quiet tonight," Rachel said conversationally. "You seemed happy when I talked to you on the phone last night but now you're, well, 'Scary Quinn'," she admitted, making air quotes with her fingers, "and I wondered if that had anything to do with Santana's news?"

Quinn bristled at Rachel's question. "I don't see how that's any of your business!" she retorted angrily.

Rachel sighed. "You're my friend, Quinn. You and Santana. In fact, you're probably my best friends. Are you jealous?"

"What?" Quinn was stunned. "No... I... Just, no!" She shook her head vehemently.

"It would be perfectly natural if you were," Rachel continued, in that same soothing tone that only infuriated Quinn further. "I have to admit, I'm a little jealous myself, but I doubt Santana and I would be auditioning for the same type of roles."

"I'm not jealous," Quinn said through gritted teeth. "I'm... I'm..." She shook her head as she desperately sought for the right words.

"Scared?" Rachel suggested.

"What do I have to be scared of?" Quinn asked softly, feeling like her insides were filling with icy water.

"That Santana's going to leave you," Rachel said simply.

Quinn swallowed hard and gripped tightly onto the sink.

"That's not... I mean... I don't... That's crazy," she finally stuttered.

"Is it?" Rachel asked softly.

"What if she doesn't love me enough?" Quinn heard herself say in a broken tone. She clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified that she'd let her most secret fear slip out.

There was a sudden bang behind her and Quinn turned to see Santana in the doorway, her dark eyes filled with pain.

"Is that what you think?" Santana asked, her voice hoarse, a horrified expression clouding her beautiful features.

Looking from the brunette to the blonde, Rachel suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Um, I think that's my cue to leave," she said intuitively. She squeezed Quinn's hand gently, belying the stern look in her brown eyes. "Talk," she instructed simply, before fixing the same steely gaze on Santana. "And listen," she added softly as she breezed out of the bathroom, leaving Quinn and Santana in tense silence.

Quinn's frustration bubbled over once more and she pressed her fingertips to her temples, squeezing her eyes shut for several seconds before answering.

"What am I supposed to think, San?" she finally asked plaintively. "You made a huge decision about your future, our future, without even talking to me, and you still won't discuss it because you're pissed at me for being upset."

Santana shook her head vehemently.

"That's not true," she insisted. "Okay, I'm mad, but I'm… I…" she broke off, struggling to find the right words. "I don't understand why you can't be happy for me," she blurted out suddenly. "Everybody else is."

"Because your decision doesn't affect them!" Quinn cried, as her anger threatened to consume her. She swallowed hard as she fought to rein in her emotions. "And because they don't have to wonder why the person they love more than anyone in the world doesn't want to involve them in major life choices." Hot tears stung the back of her eyes but she was determined not to cry.

"It wasn't like that," Santana said quietly. Unlike Quinn, her voice was so soft that she was barely audible. "I didn't tell you because I thought you'd talk me out of it. You're scared that I don't love you, but you're wrong. You're so wrong. I love you more than anything, and I knew that if you asked me to stay in school I would have done it – for you – but I hated it, Q. I hated every second of it."

Now it was Quinn's turn to be astonished. "I knew you were struggling this semester but I had no idea you felt so strongly about it. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you're Miss Academia 2014," Santana said with a sigh. "You're smart and curious and you love learning – you're basically a big nerd and I love that about you – but that's not me. I'm not as smart as you…" Quinn started to protest but Santana silenced her with a wave of her hand. "I'm not putting myself down, Q, I'm just being honest. I'm talented, and I'm hot as hell, but school just isn't for me. I didn't want you to be ashamed of me."

"I'm not!" Quinn insisted. "I want to be supportive, but if you keep things from me, you aren't giving me the chance. I'm proud of you, Santana, I don't know how many times I have to say it."

"I'm not, not really," Santana admitted, looking down at the tiled floor rather than meeting Quinn's gaze. "Look at me – I'm twenty years old and I've dropped out of college, twice. I've had two jobs – dancing on a bar, and waitressing. And look at you – an Ivy League educated, intelligent, articulate, amazing woman. You're scared I might leave you? Well, I'm terrified that you're going to wake up one morning and realize that you could do so much better than me."

Quinn was stunned. She had always known that Santana had a vulnerability hidden beneath her layers of bravado but Santana had never let her in this far before. In three long steps, Quinn crossed the bathroom and clasped Santana's left hand in hers, lifting it up to brush her lips against Santana's fingers.

"This, right here," she murmured, planting a tender kiss against Santana's engagement ring, "that's how you know I'm never going to leave you. You could drop out of college a thousand times, and work as a waitress forever and I wouldn't care, as long as you were happy. But I don't think you need to worry – you're amazing, you're beautiful, you're talented – you're tenacious," she broke off and raised an eyebrow, "and I know you're going places. All I ask is that you take me with you."

"I'm not going anywhere without you," promised Santana.

Santana kissed her then, hot and deep and full of promise. She wound her hands into Quinn's hair to hold her close and Quinn allowed her body to melt into Santana's, the tension of the last twelve hours flooding out of her as she lost herself in her fiancée.

"Are we good?" Santana asked when they finally parted. She smoothed Quinn's tangled hair, and tugged gently on a stray strand.

Quinn nodded, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

"I think so," she said softly. "There's just one thing."

"What?" asked Santana curiously.

Quinn chuckled. "You have to be the one to tell your mother." And she strode out of the bathroom, tugging Santana behind her.

They returned to their friends at the table and Rachel gave a relieved smile when she saw them hand in hand.

"Move, Lady Hummel," Santana instructed, fixing Kurt with an imperious glare.

"Why?" Kurt asked, bemused.

"Because," Santana said slowly, as though talking to a dim-witted child, "I want to sit next to my fiancée." Quinn giggled as Kurt obediently scuttled around the table to squeeze in between Blaine and Sam, and she gratefully sunk into her chair next to Santana and rested her head on her shoulder. She suddenly felt exhausted, now that the adrenaline that had been coursing through her had started to dissipate. She allowed herself to relax and listen to their friends' conversations without really feeling the need to interject. She simply sipped her wine and absently let her fingers play with Santana's beneath the table.

An indeterminate amount of time (and copious amounts of wine) later, Santana tugged Quinn to her feet and announced that it was time to go.

"I need to get this one-" she nodded in Quinn's direction, "to bed."

"Santana!" Rachel squealed indignantly. "Whilst I'm happy that you and Quinn have resolved your differences, there are some things you don't need to share!" She looked genuinely appalled and Quinn couldn't help but snicker.

Santana merely rolled her eyes. "To sleep, Rachel," she said, shaking her head as their friends chuckled. "Come on, sweetie," she murmured to Quinn. "Let's get you home."

"But I'm not tired," Quinn insisted, even as her body betrayed her and she stifled a yawn.

"Sure," Santana agreed indulgently, helping her into her coat.

Once out in the cold night air, Quinn felt her exhausted mind start to clear immediately. Santana held her close as she flagged down a taxi and in spite of her tiredness, a slow tingle of want began to build in Quinn's stomach. Taking advantage of Santana's distraction, Quinn began to suckle at the soft skin where Santana's shoulder joined her neck. She stroked the brunette's pulse point with her tongue and was delighted when her actions elicited a gasp from her fiancée.

"Hmm," Santana hummed appreciatively. "If you're still awake when we get home, I'm going to make you pay for teasing me like that."

"I'm counting on it," mumbled Quinn, her lips still attached to Santana's tender flesh. She had to break off as a cab screeched to a halt beside them, and, not wanting to give the taxi driver a show, she contented herself with cuddling with Santana until the cab pulled up outside of their apartment.

The girls trudged wearily up the stairs to their apartment, both thinking of nothing more than getting lost in each other. Quinn struggled with the numerous locks on the apartment door, blaming it on her cold fingers rather than the obvious exhaustion that was threatening to overwhelm her. Once inside, Santana shrugged out of her coat and boots, leaving them – as usual – in a messy heap on the floor. Quinn didn't object when Santana helped her out of her own coat, tossing it onto the pile. She collapsed onto their bed and tried aimlessly to kick off her boots as Santana stripped hurriedly out of her clothes.

Santana raised an eyebrow and shook her head as Quinn gave up and threw herself backwards to lie on the bed, her still booted feet dangling over the edge. With an indulgent sigh, she crossed to Quinn's side of the bed, clad in only her underwear, and tugged off her boots.

"Sure, you're not tired," she chuckled, throwing Quinn's words from earlier back at her as she urged her fiancée back into a sitting position to help her out of her dress. Quinn instinctively reached for Santana's waist, humming appreciatively as her fingers came into contact with smooth, warm skin. Santana danced out of reach, back to her own side of the bed. She climbed under the covers and motioned from Quinn to lie down beside her, instantly wrapping her in a tight embrace. Then she squealed. "Q! Your feet are freezing!"

Quinn's response was to capture Santana's lips in a passionate kiss. "I want you," she murmured, trailing her mouth over the hollow of Santana's throat.

"You've got me," Santana promised her, submitting eagerly to Quinn's ministrations. They allowed their hands to wander – stroking, caressing – igniting their desire with every touch. All thoughts of sleep dissipated as their need for each other grew. The remainder of their clothing was shed quickly and quietly and as Quinn's fingertips trailed between Santana's soft, slick thighs, Santana matched her movement for movement. Before long, they were panting and gasping as they kissed and groped wherever they could reach. Santana was the first to fall, Quinn's name on her lips as Quinn tumbled after her into bliss.