"A French maid? Really? That's so overplayed!"

"Hey, forgive him, he's still a young guy," Puck said, defending his little brother.

"Obviously. I say get the maid costume for Shelly, and have her do a private tease for you." The door opened, and Quinn walked through.

Puck laughed. "I don't think that she's that kind of girl."

Santana watched Quinn kick off her shoes at the door and go into the kitchen, before giving Santana a kiss and curling up on the end of the couch, a book in her hand. It amazed Santana that after more than 8 years of hooking up, Quinn had never seemed as much at home around her as she did in the past two weeks. I mean, seriously, Santana had forgotten that Quinn still knew how to read once college was over.

Santana stretched her legs out, resting them in Quinn's lap. When Santana saw that Quinn was holding a beer she was momentarily hopeful, but Quinn popped the top and started drinking it herself. Quinn gave her feet a squeeze, before offering the bottle to Santana.

"You still there, Lopez?"

"Yea, I'm here. Quinn just walked in."

"You started drooling, didn't you?"

"Shut it, Puckerman."

"Well, anyway, like I was saying, I was thinking naughty cop instead."

Santana smiled. "That'd be pretty hot." Her eyes took in her wife who was reading a few feet from her. "Oh, or sexy school teacher."

Quinn looked up from her book a questioning look on her face. Santana shook her head.Guy talk, she mouthed.

"I already had my sexy school teacher, remember?"

"Okay, that somewhat incestuous relationship doesn't count."

"What about my Jewish princess?"

Santana considered. "That's sexy school girl. You know, I think I'm far enough from the situation that I can admit that she wasn'tthatbad looking."

Santana was unaware that Quinn was no longer paying attention to her book. "Whatever, you know Berry was hot."

"Ooh, how about if we get like an Arabian princess? You know like a Jasmine look-alike?"

"Shelly would kick my ass. You know she's Mediterranean right?"

"Was Jasmine Mediterranean?"

"Are you seriously askingmethe race of a Disney princess?"

"Good point. I still say you should go with the sexy school teacher."

"What the hell are you two talking about?" Quinn demanded. Santana looked over at her, covering the mouth piece.

"What stripper to get for Puck's bachelor party."

"What'd you say, Lopez?"

"Nothing, Quinn asked me something."

"Did you say a stripper?"

"It's a Bachelor Party babe. You know, last night of singledom."

Quinn frowned. "I don't think I like the idea of some woman shaking her goods in your face."

"Goods, really? Who says goods? We're not going to a strip joint, it's going to be a private show, and Puck's the birthday boy, so it's not like she's going to be paying attention to me anyway."

"What, Lopez, you giving up a free lap dance? I mean you didn't get a party before you tied the knot, so I figure it's overdue. We could probably work something out."

"Wait, I'd get one, too?"

"No sketch bimbo is going to give you a lap dance," Quinn said.

Puck laughed through the phone. "Oh, shut up, Puck!"

"Hey, you're the one who mentioned that we were getting a stripper in front of your wife, who just happens to be Quinn Fabray."

"Lopez."

"I mean, even I'm not stupid. She's glaring at you right now, isn't she?"

She was. "It's just a dance, Quinn," she attempted to explain.

"Oh, so you'd be cool if I gave Puck a strip tease, 'cause itisjust dancing, right?"

Puck apparently heard her. "Quinn's giving me a strip tease. Oh hell yeah!"

Santana felt like she was being bombarded on all sides. "No, she's not, Puck. And babe, I swear you're making a big deal out of nothing."

"Really?" Quinn demanded. "So it'd be alright if Shelly had some hunk of man flesh at her party and he decided that he wanted to give me a ride?"

At the thought of some muscular man shaking his junk in front of Quinn her nose curled. "No, that's not cool. Not at all."

"But it's cool for you?"

Santana rubbed her temple. "Now you're being all confusing! Puck, hold on a sec. Quinn's being weird."

Santana pushed the mute button. "I'm not being weird," Quinn hissed.

"Remember when you said…about the threesome? And I'm not even going to have sex with the woman, I'm just, you know, going to look."

"So you're telling me that you'd rather see some nasty girl who takes off her clothes for money shake it for you, than to watch your wife do it?"

"No, I didn't say that at all, it's a Bachelor's-," her protest was cut off when Quinn started to unbutton her blouse. Quinn stood up for a second, to let her skirt fall to the ground, before she straddled Santana. "You want some, disgusting, probably diseased infested body that isn't as in shape as this, grinding up against you?"

Santana took her phone off mute. "Puck, I gotta go, there's an ass in my hands." Santana was just able to end the call before Quinn took the phone from her hands, and threw it onto a pillow.

"Is that what you want? Some other body?"

"N-no," Santana stuttered as Quinn started to rock into her. Quinn reached behind her and undid her bra, tossing it onto Santana's face. "You'd rather have a look but don't touch girl, who probably has pimples running down her back, and cankles getting you hot rather than this blonde bombshell right in front of you?"

Santana forgot how this transaction had even started. She vaguely recalled something about Puck and a stripper. Quinn arched her back, thrusting her cleavage in Santana's face, before rolling off the couch. "Suit yourself," Quinn remarked. "Enjoy your stripper!"

"Quinn!" Santana whined.

Quinn locked herself in the bathroom. "Damn it!" Santana hissed. Being married sucked!

"Puck's getting married…oh…puck's getting married, whoa oh, who would have thought that the man with the cock, went to the store and bought, a ring. Forget the ice bergs melting in the north, and the snow in the South, Puck's getting married, and he's bringing down the house…oh, Puck's getting married, whoa oh, Puck's…"

"Santana!" Quinn shouted. Santana's mouth fell open mid-sing, and she took her eyes off the road to look at her wife. "Please," Quinn begged. "Shut up!" Quinn had pretty much hit the end of her rope. She had sat through Santana singingAnother One Bites the Dustto the theme ofGoing to the Chapel, as well asA Woman Needs a Maid, Run For your Life, It's the End of the World as We Know It,andtworounds ofHome Boy's Getting Hitcheda Santana Fabray-Lopez (well really just a Santana Lopez, cause it was written before they got hitched)original song. Sorry, but she just couldn't handle anymore of Santana's singing.

"What crawled in your twat and died?" Santana mumbled, turning on the radio. She couldn't help but to sing though, "Wife is kind of cranky, should have had some hanky panky, 'fore we left. She's staring daggers at me, I pretend I don't see, her evil, hurtful, glare of death."

Quinn sat up in the seat, very neatly folded her hands in her lap, and concentrated very hard on her breathing. This was one of her Santana management techniques. She was learning a whole lot of them. Apparently, getting married to your booty call has some unintended side effects, and Quinn was sure that if she wasn't continuously dying her hair blonde, her wife was going to turn her gray.

In a much calmer voice Quinn questioned, "Don't you think that it's a little bit inappropriate for you to be singing anti-marriage songs while sitting beside your wife?"

Santana paused in her singing the lyrics of whatever song was on the radio. "Why?"

"Because you're married now."

"Huh, I keep forgetting that," Santana responded, and went back to singing along with the radio. Quinn located her iPod, and plugged up her ears to block out Santana's voice, although she had to admit that every single one of the songs that Santana had annoyingly sung had been fantastic. She went through one song alone before she thoughtwhat the hell, and turned off the radio. She could see Santana start to protest, but was stopped when Quinn opened her mouth and started to sing to a rockabilly beat, "My baby's daddy's getting married, and I think it's kind of scary, and I know I'm kind of wary, too. Cause the girl's name is Shelly, when his daughter's mama's Shelby, and she's not an Asian named Woo."

The sideways glance and smile that Santana gave her made her feel as if joining Santana in singing made-up wedding hits instead of being moody on her side of the car was the right decision.

Santana clapped. "Shelby Woo…nice reference to irrelevant 90s television shows there, baby!"

Quinn fake bowed. "Thank you, I thought you would like it."

Quinn continued to make up more lyrics off of the top of her head, and only stopped when she realized that their car had suddenly come to a halt. Quinn looked up and saw that Santana had pulled off down a side road. "What-,"

Santana's seat belt went shooting up towards the door. "God, you're so hot," Santana said, moments before climbing over the center console, and straddling her wife. Santana's lips were on her, and her fingers were seeking out a way underneath her clothes before Quinn even had the chance to process what was going on. Quinn's hands went scrambling to undo the seat belt that was holding her back at the same time spreading her legs as far as she could in the limited space.

Santana gave a throaty chuckle. "My, aren't we eager."

"Just shut up and get on with it," Quinn instructed.

Yep, she definitely made the right choice.

They arrived at the hotel around three o'clock in the afternoon. Santana bounded from the car, bouncing on her feet. "Come on, Quinn!"

"Remind me again, how old are you?"

"29," Santana said. "What's that got to do with you being so slow?" Quinn got out of the car but didn't otherwise move. Santana looked over at her. "What're you waiting for babe? Get your bags, let's go!"

Quinn tapped her foot. "Aren't you going to carry them?"

Santana's eyes narrowed. "Why would I do that?"

Quinn tossed her hair over her shoulders. "Aren't you the one who claims that you are the butch one?"

"I already told you, I don't have to try: I already got you."

Quinn just stood there. Santana giggled, shook her head, and kissed Quinn on the cheek. "I'll carry them, but only because I know me flexing my muscles gets you wet."

Quinn took the garment bag from Santana, and left her to carry the other three bags into the hotel. Santana got on a trolley, and hopped on it along with the bags. "Push me!"

Quinn looked around to see who was seeing how childish her wife was acting. "Santana get off of that," she hissed.

"You going to make me?"

Quinn covered her face. "I swear I can't take you anywhere."

"Am I being bad, Quinn?" Santana stuck her behind out. "Do I need to be punished?"

At a particularly scathing look from Quinn and a harsh tug on her arm, Santana got off the trolley and they made it to the elevator, heading upstairs to their room. "You shouldn't frown so much, Quinn. You're going to get wrinkles."

"You do realize that you are the cause of them, right?"

"Really?" Santana's lips curled up. "You know what's a good stress reliever?"

Quinn leaned back on her elbows on the bed, watching as Santana started to undo her jeans. "Is sex the only thing you think about?"

Santana didn't answer. Instead she selected a song on her iPod, turned the speaker's up as far as they would go, and proceeded to do a strip tease until she was in nothing else but her bra and underwear. She reached over Quinn, hovering over her. Her hand grabbed for the garment bag that had been sat higher up on the bed. "Now who's thinking about sex, Fablo? We've got the rehearsal dinner. I'm just getting ready."

With that Santana whipped the bag around Quinn, making sure it didn't hit her, and disappeared into the bathroom.

An hour later, Santana was dressed, and had her hair done, and Quinn had 'freshened up'. Quinn was a little upset because they had had plenty of time for a quickie, but Santana had left her hanging, and the thought of Puck and Santana in the same suite sent her head aching.

Puck had a suite two floors above them, and when they got to it, Santana pounded out a rhythm on the door.

"Has to be Santana," she heard Jake say before the door was swung open. Santana entered the room with her arms spread in a 'Here I am' gesture. "Okay, Puck, this is the best you get, so tell me now if this is good enough for you."

A huge grin spread over Puck's face at the sight of Santana. She was wearing a white cocktail jacket, with black lapels, a white blouse, and a vest that matched Jake and Young's vests, but instead of tuxedo pants she was wearing a black skirt, and a killer set of heels.

Puck let out a whistle. "That's so hot. Oh my God, is that the outfit from Sectionals? Lopez, youdolove me!" He wrapped her in his arms, swinging her around in the air.

"I don't love you, the misses just never throws anything away."

Quinn trailed in behind Santana. "Don't call me the misses," she said.

Santana rolled her eyes. "You see what I have to deal with," she whispered to Puck.

"I heard that," Quinn remarked.

"Of course you did," Santana replied. "Oh, hey, while you're here, show Puck the rings."

With an eye roll Quinn lifted her finger so Puck could see that she was, in fact, wearing an engagement and wedding ring. A similar band rested on Santana's hand. Puck looked at their matching jewelry in disgust. "Well, shit, you really did it, didn't you?"

"Quinn was begging me," Santana winked at her, "for it."

Puck turned to Quinn and held out his arms for her. "Hi, Baby Mama!" It was only because there was a warm spot in her heart for him that Quinn didn't allow herself to be irritated.

"Noah."

"Oh, hey Lopez, before I forget, here." He tossed Santana a ring box. "That's Shelly's ring.Don'tlose it."

Santana rolled her eyes. "I think I can keep a ring for a day." Santana opened the box and looked at the ring, pulling it out to read the inscription inside. "Ani ledodi v'dodi li, haRo'eh baShushanim."

"You've been practicing," Puck said, clearly impressed.

Santana gave a quick look at Quinn. "Of course, you know I don't do shit halfway."

"Oh yeah, that reminds me, I know you and baby mama have met Jake," Quinn smiled at the younger Puckerman. "But I don't think either of you have met my fellow airman and other groomsman, Young."

Young stepped forward, looking very soldiery even though he wasn't in uniform, and didn't even have a buzz cut. He was about the same height as Noah, and just as nicely built with green eyes, and light brown hair. He was the kind of guy the word handsome applied to. "Nice to meet you, ma'am," he nodded to Quinn. "Sir." This last part was directed to Santana, and Young, Puck, and Jake laughed. "Sorry," Young said quickly, "he told me to say that."

Santana punched Puck in the arm. "Once an ass, always an ass, right Puckerman?"

"Well, I know how much you hate change, Lopez. Least I thought you did, but then you went and married Quinn. Hey Young, can you believe that I once dated both of these hotties, and now they're married? To each other!"

Young gave them both a look over, but the smile that he gave wasn't a leer. "Congratulations on finding a partner that complements you so well," Young complimented.

"Whoa," Santana said, momentarily shocked. "Are you sure you're friends with Puck?" The room shared a laugh at Puck's (and really all of their) expense.

They had little time to get to catch up before they had to head over to the church. Puck had what he and Shelly were calling a 'fusion' wedding, with aspects of a traditional Hebrew wedding, and a traditional Christian one. Because of that, they ran through the ceremony four times (twice for Puck, twice for Shelly) so the two of them didn't see each other. After the rehearsal, Puck's friends and family headed over to Manicotti's Italian restaurant for dinner where they had the whole back room to their selves.

It was interesting seeing Puck's Air Force buddies interact with the Glee kids, especially when it looked like there was a good chance Rachel might be taking one of them home. Things were all well and good until they were back at the hotel, and the boys were crowding into the elevator to go to Puck's suite. When Santana didn't appear to be getting off on their floor, Quinn was prepared with her disapproving face.

"I'm just hanging out," Santana said. "I promise." She kissed Quinn on lips that turned down. "You're hanging out with Mercedes, Tina, and Britt," Santana reminded her. "Puck's my bro, and I'm his best (wo)man, I have to chill with him."

"So go, chill," Quinn said.

Santana studied the expression on Quinn's face. Choosing to interpret it the way she wanted, she kissed Quinn on the lips. "You're perfect, you know that," Santana remarked.

Quinn gave her the sweetest smile that she could muster. "Anything for youbabe." She gave Santana a lingering kiss, before walking off.

Puck, who had watched the whole thing, punched Santana in her arm once Quinn was gone. "Dude, you know you're totally screwed right?"

Santana watched the direction that Quinn had disappeared to. "Nah, we're good. She wouldn't really cut me off. She likes it as much as I do."

She felt his hand fall onto her shoulder. "Take it from someone who used to date her, trust me when I say that no one can freeze you out quite like Quinn Fabray."

"Lopez," Santana added.

Puck chuckled. "You're so gone."

"Whatever, no I'm not."

The party was awesome. Even though not even five minutes had passed since Young Puck had gone upstairs, by the time Santana and Puck made it to the room things were already underway. It had all the trimmings of a small time high school party, and Santana had to admit that she hadn't partied like this since college. Apparently Puck had passed his bartending skills down to Jake, because old favorites were laid out on the table. Santana stayed by Puck's side, right up until the strippers showed up, and then she became the only one trying to distance herself from Puck, because she knew her friend a little too well, and damn it, she couldn't get her wife's voice out of her head. To make it worse, one of the girls was blonde, but Quinn was right, she couldn't hold a candle to her, and the thought just made her even angrier. She shouldnotbe thinking about another girl when there were three, on display, moving their bodies to the music.Damn the strippers, damn Quinn, and damn being freaking married.

Santana woke up to an erection in her back and a moral dilemma: go back to sleep without the comfort of arms around her, or put up with little Puck pressing into her. She decided to get up. Puck grunted, rolling over onto his pillow. Santana took stock. Puck was wearing only shorts. Her dress had been discarded beside the bed, and she was wearing a t-shirt and a size that she didn't recognize, but was thankfully long enough to cover her ass. She wasn't worried that she and Puck had done something stupid. The two of them had ended up cuddling most likely to prevent anyone else from doing something stupid and trying something. Or maybe the both of them just liked to cuddle.

Santana really didn't feel like redressing. She wondered what her odds were of making it down to her room without someone seeing her. She removed the socks off of Puck's feet, stepped over Young, Jake, and some guy she didn't know, and decided to risk it. She took one of the room keys, though, before she did, because she knew she'd need to come back in a few hours to wake the guys up.

Unsurprisingly Quinn was sitting up in the bed, when she let herself into their room. "Hey, baby," Santana said softly, as if afraid to wake a sleeping giant. Quinn eye's surveyed her, almost x-raying her.

"You look like you had sex with the stripper," Quinn huffed.

"I didn't," Santana said, as she climbed into the bed. "I collapsed with Puck so he'd wake up on time, but Puck makes cuddling impossible. Cuddle with me?"

Quinn leaned forward, her nose almost touching Santana's and she sniffed. She sniffed the crook of her neck, her chest, and the top of her thighs. "What're you doing?" Santana questioned in confusion.

"Nothing," Quinn replied. She didn't cuddle with Santana, but she didn't say anything when Santana buried her face in her lap, and wrapped her arms around her. When Quinn was sure that Santana was asleep, she slid down so they were both lying down, and took her wife in her arms.

Quinn felt herself being shaken awake. "Hey, baby?" she opened her eyes to see Santana looking down on her. "I gotta go wake the boys up, okay?" Quinn nodded, sleepily. "You can go back to sleep, I just didn't want you to wake up and not know where I was." She kissed Quinn on top of her head, before gently pulling herself from the bed.

The wedding was scheduled for 4:00, and she only saw Santana in brief spurts prior to that. She rode to the church with Brittany, Mercedes, and a very happy looking Rachel, who was whistling some show tune. "So what was his name?" Mercedes demanded.

"Walken," Rachel said with a blush. And then she exhaled a happy breath, and said no more.

The four of them sat together, finding faces in the crowd, and having quick whispered conversations while they waited for everything to get started. And then the music started, and people found their seats, and angled themselves towards the door.

Quinn was nearly floored when she saw Puck. As he made his way down the aisle on his mother's arm, she had a momentary flashback to every performance where Puck had dressed up, worn a suit, a tie, or a tux. He looked positively handsome, debonair even, his short cropped hair hidden almost entirely beneath his Yamulke. When Puck and his mom reached the chupah, the symbolic canopy that was supposed to be a representation of their future dwelling, Puck's mom gave him a big kiss. Whereas at any other time Puck would have been embarrassed, he beamed.

Santana and Shelly's maid of honor were the first after Puck. Santana's movements could only be described as a strut, and the girl Santana was walking down the aisle looked like she had won the lottery. Quinn wasn't aware that she was grinding her teeth until Santana gave Quinn a wink as she passed them. Quinn bit back feelings of longing, and jealously, as she watched the procession, because she and Santana hadn't done this. She wondered if they had, if Santana would look that proud and excited to see her walk down in the aisle as Puck was waiting for Shelly. Quinn's wedding was pretty much all she had ever fantasized about as a kid. The groom was always interchangeable, just as long as he was from a good family, had a promising career track, and was a good Christian.

She chuckled, her 'groom' was none of that. He was a woman, who had an active libido, acted like she was 12, and was as far from Prince Charming as possible. Her whole young life had revolved around the concept of growing up to some day be someone's wife, yet she had bypassed the ceremony that she had spent so much time planning.

Her eyes fell back on Santana. Santana's outfit and the kittel over Puck's tuxedo looked so well together it was almost as if they had planned it. Quinn was unsurprised to see her looking like she wanted to either hi five Puck or maybe punch him on his arm. She looked just as happy and proud as Puck did, at her friend's nuptials. She wondered if Santana would still be standing in the same spot, if she and Puck had gotten married. He had never outright proposed, but Quinn knew that he had wanted to marry her. Dating him had been nice, her third longest relationship after Santana, but like every other, it had ended and Quinn hadn't felt too upset about it.

Santana seemed to sense Quinn looking at her, because they made eye contact. She wiggled her eyes at Quinn, smiling broadly. "Hi," she mouthed.

Quinn waved and mouthed 'hi' back. "You two aresocute," Mercedes whispered beside her. Quinn gave a glance at her friend. "What're you talking about?"

"You and Santana."

"We're not cute. There's nothing cute about us. We got married because of a bet."

"Oh, okay," Mercedes dismissed. "Sure."

Their conversation was interrupted when the music cuing the bride started. They all got to their feet as Shelly appeared at the doors of the church and Santana and Quinn saw who Puck was marrying for the first time, and Puck saw his bride for the first time in five days. Shelly (Meshell) Casta was a very pretty woman, with dark black hair, gray/green eyes, and was somewhere flush in the middle of Quinn and Zizes size wise and Santana and Mercedes in skin color. She was half Mediterranean and, to Ms. Puckerman's delight, half Jewish. She was kind of like an amalgamation of all the Glee kids, which made her all the more perfect for Puck, because he had pretty much dated everyone in Glee.

As she made her way towards him, Puck looked so completely grown up, and mature, and in love. He didn't take his eyes off her the whole time she made her way towards the chupah. Shelly circled Puck seven times, before she came to a rest at Puck's right hand side.

They were back on ground that Quinn understood when Quinn heard, "Dearly Beloved." She knew she didn't imagine it when she saw Puck swipe at his eyes. As the two of them exchanged vows, and rings, Santana stared at Quinn, mouthing the words along with them. "So, ridiculously cute," Mercedes sighed.

The sound of a knife on glass instantly directed everyone's attention to the head table. Puck nodded at Santana when the hall quieted down. "I don't do speeches, so I'll make this short and sweet. So if you're like me, and have known Puck for how long has it been Noah?"

"22 years," Puck supplied.

"Gosh, that long? Whoa. If you'd have known him like I've known him, you would have never thought that this day would have come, but here we are." She turned to her friend. "I wish you and Shelly the best that life has to bring you, take care of each other. Shelly keep an eye on him, because Puck's not perfect, but when he loves, he loves hard, and he'll give you nothing short of his best. To many happy, happy years together. Oh, oh, I forgot. I'm supposed to recite the first blessing, so please forgive me, if I mispronounce something.

"Barukh attah Adonai eloheinu melekh ha-olam, shehakol bara likhvodo. How was that?" Santana whispered as she sat down. Puck grinned. "Perfect, Lopez."

Jake, then Young, then Noah's mom, Jake's mom, Shelly's father, and finally an uncle of Shelly's recited their blessings before the glass of wine was passed back to Shelly and Puck each drinking from it before Noah smashed the glass underneath his foot, and a cry of "Mazal Tov!" was offered.

Santana drank her glass of wine before she gave up her spot at the head table, and went to go sit with her wife. She yawned, this whole thing was draining. "Did you like my Yiddish? Bet you didn't your woman was like trilingual. Actually, I'm just freaking multi-lingual." She dropped her voice low, and whispered, "Veux-tu coucher avec moi ce soir?"

Santana thought she would die when Quinn actually responded back, (and in French) "Peut-être oui."

"I will drink to that," Santana chirped. She kissed Quinn on her forehead. "I'll be back." Santana made her way through the crowd to the bar. "Can I have two glasses of wine?" Santana questioned of the bartender. She got a good look at the girl behind the bar. "Hey, you're cute," Santana noted, smiling at the woman.

The girl smiled back. "Thanks, you're-," she noticed the ring on Santana's hand. "Married."

Santana looked at it, too. "Oh, yeah, right." How was it she kept forgetting these things? She pointed out Quinn. "She's a total hottie, isn't she?"

The bartender pouted and started to mix a drink. "Yea, she is," the woman said flatly.

Santana noticed the sudden change in the girl's mood. "Oh, no she's totally cool. Open, I mean, to whatever." Santana's voice took on a sultry tone. "I am, too, you know, if you're down."

Two glasses were practically shoved at Santana, though the liquid remained unharmed. "I'll keep that in mind," the bartender said.

Santana quickly swallowed both glasses, glaring daggers at her wedding ring. It was seriously impending her game. She thought about taking it off, but realized it wasn't worth the effort. And anyway, even if she wasn't going home with anyone else tonight, Quinn would be in her bed, so who needed game? She remembered she was supposed to be getting drinks, and ordered two more glasses of wine, this time from a non-judgmental blonde haired guy.

With two fresh glasses, Santana made to go back to her wife, and found her way back to her table impeded by a shorter, brown haired girl who she was almost certain she should know. Especially judging by the broad smile she was giving her. "Hey, it's Santana right?"

Santana quirked an eyebrow. "Yes..."

The girl giggled. "I'm Paris! Shelly's friend. You walked me down the aisle."

Santana grinned, looking the girl over, because, oh right, she did. "Oh, yes. Hi! Sorry, my minds kind of all over the place, you know, best friend getting married and all."

"It's okay. Nice to meet you again!"

"You, too!" Santana gave her a suggestive look. "Nice dress."

The girl giggled, as her eyes wandered over Santana's body. "Nice…" she seemed at a loss.

"It's a drux. A dress tux. I created it," she lied easily. "You know for the adventurous les who's all about blending the lines of femininity."

"I, like, totally get that." Santana sent a prayer up because she was cute, gay, and dumb as hell.

Santana pretended to be artistically conflicted. "Do you, because sometimes I feel like my intentions don't get across the way that I intend for them to?"

"No, Itotallyget that…actually it's pure genius cause sexuality is all blended lines. I like feel the same, you know: like I don't want to date a guy, but I love their penises. That's why strap-ons are so perfect!"

Santana tilted her head back.Thank you, she whispers to the heavens. "Right?! Do you want to dance?"

In response the girl took one of the glasses from her hand, and used the other to guide Santana onto the floor. Things were just getting really good, Santana was wrapped up in the song, and Paris was grinding nicely against her, when she felt herself suddenly pulled backwards. "The hell?" she mumbled in surprise. A very angry Quinn had a grip on her arm, and was staring daggers at the poor girl who was cowering. Santana would have felt bad for the girl, if she didn't feel bad for herself more.

Quinn glared at the girl with utter loathing, disguised by Quinn's super sweet death glare. "Excuse me…er, what's your name?"

"Paris."

"Of course it is. Um…Paris, I'm sure you're a really nice girl, I am," she gave a look that said the opposite. "But Santana will definitely not be spending a night in you, and if you don't back the hell off of my wife, I will ends you. Entiendes?"

The poor girl looked so completely lost. "I don't know what that means."

Quinn turned and faced Santana. "It means, go find yourself some other nice girl in a skirt, like now, and as for you, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Dancing. Well, I was anyway, until you came in here all Rambo like and started throwing bodies around."

"You are skating on really thin ice, Santana. First with that stripper, and now this!"

"Thanks to you, I didn't go anywhere near the stripper last night, and me and Paris were only dancing, you know having fun."

"Oh, fun? I'm sorry, I didn't realize that that's all that was. Excuse me."

Quinn stalked away, and Santana warily watched her as she snaked her way through the crowd until she was standing in front of Rachel. Santana's jaw dropped when Quinn pressed her lips against the lips of the unsuspecting woman, who then preceded to put her arm around Quinn's waistand kiss her back. Ice grew in the pit of her stomach, and she was stomping through the crowd. She pulled Quinn away bodily, glaring at Rachel. "Down, troll," she barked.

"Santana," Quinn gasped innocently. "What're you doing? Me and Rach were just having somefun."

"Okay, you made your point," Santana hissed.

Quinn poked a finger in her chest. "Do you?" Quinn demanded, while Rachel looked on confused as hell.What had just happened?

Santana grabbed a handful of dress and pulled Quinn to her. She pressed her lips against Quinn's lips, but pulled back. "Gah, I can taste her on!" she hissed. "Berry! I need more alcohol for this."

Santana wandered back over to the bar because she needed a drink, well aware of Quinn's eyes watching her. Possessive Quinn was new, and very sexy, so she gave her ass a little extra shake and gave a glance over her shoulder to catch her wife's reaction. Priceless.

The bartender was the same girl from before. She had an amused look on her face, as if she had been well aware of the actions since she last saw her, and maybe, too, as if she liked the way Santana walked.

"What're you smiling about?" Santana grumped. She woman placed Santana's drink in front of her, as well as a cocktail napkin with writing on it in lipstick. "What's this?" Santana questioned, looking up.

The girl smiled. "My number. You and your wife seemfun. Call me if you're game."

Santana didn't even have time to respond before she was pulled away from the bar. "Whoa, Quinn," she guessed because she hadn't managed to swing her head around to see who was dragging her this time, "we were just talking. I swear!"

She got no response as she scrambled to keep her feet beneath her as she was pulled out of the reception hall, and upstairs to their room. Quinn slammed the door closed, and pointed a finger at her chest. "Let's get something straight, Santana. I don't share. You don't dance with other girls. You do not exchange phone numbers with other girls-"

"We didn't exchange, she gave me her number."

"Do you honestly not know when to shut, up? You're married now, act like it!"

Quinn was surprised to see Santana smiling. Her face twisted in anger. "What are you smiling about?" Santana almost laughed, then, because it's the same thing that she said a few minutes ago to the hot bartender Quinn pulled her away from.

She looked Quinn over. "We're about to have angry, possessive sex, now, right?" Santana questioned eagerly. Quinn growled because, seriously, this woman. Santana fell back on the bed, her legs cocked open. "I'm all yours, Quinn. Claim me baby."

Quinn rolled her eyes, then proceeded to do just that.