The next morning, Santana woke up to the muffled sounds of the city. It was early, but the sounds of New York—the distant buzz of traffic, the occasional horn—were ever-present. She stirred and blinked her eyes open, the pale light of dawn filtering through the lace curtains in her small apartment.
Next to her, Quinn lay fast asleep, her blonde hair tousled across the pillow. The peaceful rise and fall of Quinn's breathing calmed Santana's nerves, which had been on edge since last night's confrontation with Finn. She studied Quinn's face for a moment, committing this peaceful moment to memory. In the soft light, with her makeup from the previous night smudged and her hair messy, Quinn looked perfect. Real.
A part of Santana still couldn't believe she was here, in her bed. That they were doing this, that they were starting a new life together. But the other part—the one that had always loved Quinn—knew this was exactly where she was meant to be.
Quinn stirred, her lips curving into a small smile as she blinked her eyes open. "Morning," she whispered, her voice still heavy with sleep.
"Morning," Santana replied softly, brushing a lock of hair from Quinn's face. "How'd you sleep?"
"Better than I have in a long time," Quinn murmured, shifting closer so that her head rested on Santana's shoulder. They lay there in comfortable silence for a few moments, listening to the distant sounds of the city waking up.
But the peace was short-lived. Reality was waiting for them just beyond the apartment door. There was no avoiding it. They had to go back to Quinn's apartment today to get her things. Santana could feel Quinn tense up beside her as the thought crept in.
"I guess we should get moving," Quinn said quietly, her fingers tracing light patterns on Santana's arm. "Finn'll be at work soon, and I want to grab some stuff while he's gone."
Santana nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of Quinn's head. "You don't have to do this alone, you know. I'll be right there with you. We'll get your things, and then you'll never have to go back there again."
Quinn smiled weakly, but Santana could see the worry in her eyes. "Thanks. I don't know if I could do this without you."
"Good thing you don't have to," Santana said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. "Besides, how hard could it be? We sneak in, grab your stuff, maybe break one or two of Finn's records on the way out…"
Quinn let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Don't tempt me. He's got this huge record collection."
"Oh, I believe it," Santana said, rolling her eyes. "I just know he has the worst taste in music."
Quinn chuckled, but her smile faded a little as she glanced out the window. "Yeah… we should probably go soon."
An hour later, they were standing outside the building where Quinn and Finn lived, staring up at the tall brick façade. Santana could feel Quinn's nervous energy next to her, and she slipped her hand into Quinn's, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"You ready?" Santana asked, glancing at Quinn.
Quinn took a deep breath, nodding. "Yeah. Let's do this."
They made their way up the stairs to the apartment, Quinn's hand shaking slightly as she unlocked the door. Santana stayed close, keeping an eye out for any sign of Finn, though they both knew he was at work. Still, there was something about stepping into this space that felt like enemy territory.
The apartment was eerily quiet, as if it had been holding its breath since Quinn left. Santana had been here once when Finn had to work late but it felt different now. The air felt heavy, like it was suffocating them.
Quinn hesitated for a moment at the threshold before stepping inside. Santana followed close behind, staying quiet as Quinn walked through the apartment, taking in the place she had once called home.
"I don't want much," Quinn said softly, more to herself than to Santana. "Just some clothes, a few personal things. I'm not… I'm not ready to take everything."
Santana nodded. "Take your time. Whatever you need, I'm here to help."
They made their way to the bedroom, and Quinn began opening drawers, pulling out clothes and folding them into a small suitcase. Santana stood by the closet, thumbing through some of Quinn's old dresses, trying to keep things light.
"So… tell me again how you managed to survive living with him for this long?" Santana asked with a grin, holding up a floral dress that Quinn used to wear when they were just teenagers.
Quinn laughed, though it was a little shaky. "He wasn't always like this, you know. When we first started dating, he was… sweet. Simple. It just got complicated after we got married."
Santana tossed the dress onto the bed. "Well, he's a tool now, so I think we're officially in 'smash-his-Styx-record' territory."
Quinn laughed, her shoulders relaxing a bit as she continued packing. Santana felt a surge of relief. This was what Quinn needed—to feel like she wasn't alone. Like this wasn't just her fight.
As Quinn packed up more clothes and some personal things from the bathroom, Santana wandered around the living room, looking at the little pieces of Quinn's life that she was leaving behind. There were framed pictures of her and Finn, smiling and happy, scattered around the room. Santana couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness.
She knew this wasn't easy for Quinn. This was the life she had built, the life she thought she wanted. And now she was leaving it all behind, piece by piece.
But then Santana spotted something on the coffee table—a cassette tape. She picked it up, a grin spreading across her face as she read the label: "Finn's Greatest Hits."
"Oh no," Santana muttered to herself, her grin widening. "This is too good."
She walked over to Quinn, holding up the tape like a prize. "You weren't kidding about his taste in music. 'Finn's Greatest Hits'? Really?"
Quinn glanced at the tape and rolled her eyes. "Oh God, that thing. He made it for one of his high school buddies as a joke, but he actually plays it all the time."
Santana raised an eyebrow. "You mean he made a mixtape of himself singing other people's songs?"
Quinn nodded, her face scrunching up with a mix of embarrassment and amusement. "Yep. And not even good songs. We're talking, like, the cheesiest stuff. Journey, Foreigner…"
Santana cackled, clutching the tape to her chest. "Oh, this is gold. I'm keeping this."
Quinn smirked, finally zipping up her suitcase. "You can have it. Maybe you'll appreciate his rendition of 'Don't Stop Believin'.'"
"Oh, I will," Santana said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she tossed the tape into her bag. "I'll treasure it forever."
With Quinn's suitcase packed, they took one last look around the apartment. Quinn's gaze lingered on the photos of her and Finn for a moment, her face soft with nostalgia. Santana didn't say anything, just stood by her side, letting her take it all in.
Finally, Quinn turned to her, her eyes filled with quiet determination. "I'm ready," she said softly. "Let's go."
Back at Santana's apartment, they collapsed onto the couch in a heap, the tension of the day melting away as they kicked off their shoes and sank into the cushions.
"Mission accomplished," Santana said with a tired grin, tossing her arm over Quinn's shoulders. "You're officially free from the clutches of Styx-loving Finn."
Quinn laughed, leaning into Santana's side. "Thanks for coming with me. I don't think I could've done that without you."
Santana shrugged, trying to play it cool, though her heart swelled with warmth. "Hey, what are girlfriends for?"
Quinn smiled, her eyes soft as she gazed at Santana. "Girlfriend, huh?"
Santana froze for a second, realizing what she'd just said. Her cheeks flushed, but she forced a smirk. "Well, yeah. Unless you've got a problem with that."
Quinn's smile widened, and she leaned in to kiss Santana softly on the lips. "No problem at all."
They settled into the couch, the weight of the day slipping away as they held each other close. Santana knew things wouldn't always be easy—there would be bumps in the road, awkward conversations, and maybe even more run-ins with Finn—but for now, in this moment, everything felt right.
And that was all they needed.