Santana didn't allow herself to fill up on pizza because Quinn would be home soon, and for reasons that Santana couldn't fathom, her wife still didn't see pizza as an acceptable dinner time meal more than once a month. So she allowed herself a slice and a half, and she and Sam watched two episodes of Arrow before Santana decided to go back to her original plan of working on Quinn's family recipes.

Since Sam was still around, and didn't seem about to leave, Santana made him her sous-chef. Remarkably, when she told him to blanch the pearl onions to make them easier to peel, she didn't actually have to explain to him what that meant. They managed to work silently for a half hour before Sam felt compelled to speak.

"Why are we cooking Thanksgiving food for dinner if Thanksgiving isn't for another two weeks?"

Santana sliced too hard through the granny smith apple she was cutting. "Because Quinn and I are spending Thanksgiving with the Fabray clan and we're supposed to be hosting, which somehow means that I'm cooking while Quinn gets to sit around with the men and discuss football…" she paused, pointing her chef's knife at Sam. "Between me and Quinn, who would you say is more 'butch'?"

Sam looked nervously at the large knife. "What do you mean?"

"Like between the two of us who would you say is more girly?"

"You're both pretty girly," Sam answered. He actually looked her over, but not like in a creepy way. "Like all girl. Completely."

Santana rolled her eyes. "No, like I mean, which one of us would you say is more," she thought about a way to get her point across, "like…okay, so you know how…on Two and a Half Men when Ashton and Alan were pretending to be married, and Alan was like the woman, and Ashton was like the man, with me and Quinn who would you say is like…the man?"

Inwardly she was snarling at herself, because what the hell was she even saying?

"But you're both women."

"Yeah, but which one of us is less womanly?" She should have asked Puck. Actually, she shouldn't be having this conversation, but really all she wanted to hear Sam say was that of the two of them, Quinn should completely be the one in the kitchen while Santana sat around talking about the game, or what not. She was not the "little woman". So what if she let Quinn be the outside spoon? That was just because Quinn was taller...and Santana might like to be held sometimes. And yeah, Quinn might sleep closer to the door, but that was only for now. Santana had moved into Quinn's place, and into Quinn's bed, but once they got their place, and their bed, she'd be back on the left where she belonged. And if bullets were flying, Santana would definitely be the one who would jump in front of one for Quinn. That was a given.

"Okay, I'm confused because when I said that there were a man and a woman in every relationship, even the gay ones, Mercedes smacked me upside my head, so I'm not sure what you're asking."

"If you had to picture one of us being in the kitchen cooking and the other doing the quote unquote manly Thanksgiving things like watching football and whatever the hell men do while the women are cooking, would you picture me doing it, or Quinn? I don't even know if Quinn even knows the rules of football, which is really sad since she used to be a cheerleader."

Sam suddenly looked intensely relieved. "Wait, so you're asking which one of you should be the one cooking?"

"Yes!"

"Oh!" He looked like a complex math problem had just been solved for him. "You."

Santana frowned. "Why me?"

"Because Quinn doesn't cook," he said simply. He went back to the task he had been set with, not realizing that that wasn't the end of the conversation.

"What do you mean she doesn't cook? She cooks all the time."

He shook his head. "No, she cooks for you. She doesn't cook for anyone else. She has like this fear of public cooking or something. It's kind of weird."

"She…what?"

"Yeah, I totally didn't even know that it was a thing, but for some reason cooking for other people like really stresses Quinn out. Like really. She gets all nervous, and starts itching, and gets hives. She's all like awrgh!" Santana startled at the sound Sam made, something that sounded a lot like a bird dying. He scratched his ear, and puffed out his cheeks. "Awrgh!" He looked expectant. Santana looked at him as if he were suffering from a mental illness. "Will Smith? Hitch…?" he shrugged. "So… Quinn doesn't like to cook."

"How do you know this and I don't?"

"Remember when Quinn was helping me out?" Santana nodded. "Well we were supposed to be making cookies for a bake sale, and she was helping Stacy, but she started to like freak out, but like Quinn freak out, so she tried to pretend that nothing was wrong, and she excused herself, and I asked, and yeah."

Santana thought over Sam's words, thinking about how many times Quinn had cooked, willingly, eagerly even, for her. It made her feel warm that here was one more thing, one more way she got to experience her wife that no one else did. With Sam's information she was more willing to do the Fabray family dinner, with slightly less complaining, which made her wonder if Quinn had planted him over here with this story. She tried to think of past incidences of Quinn cooking. If Judy had trained her to be Ms. Suzy Homemaker wouldn't that have included being able to cook as well?

Why couldn't Quinn just tell her that, though?

Santana was unaware of Sam studying her until she looked up and caught his eye. "What are you staring at Lisa Rinna?"

He gave a slight shake of his head in an 'Oh Santana' way. "You two, I don't get you. Why do you guys still get surprised when you find out how much you love each other when it's obvious to everyone else, but you?"

"There's not much room for you to talk. Who just got married to Mercedes?"

"Yeah, but I never doubted what I felt for my girl, or what she felt for me. I've always known that we love each other though. We just had to wait for our right moment. You and her? It's like neither of you expect love or think that you deserve it, or it's something you should have. You're as abrasive as a Brillo pad, and you have the strangest way of expressing your appreciation for people, but you're good people's Santana."

Santana scowled because no…just no. "No shit, I know this. Are you sure it's Mercedes that's full of pregnancy hormones and not you?"

Sam just shook his head, and went back to what he was doing.

] strong, fearless, sexy, loyal,

By the time Quinn made it home, Santana was alone in a fairly cleaned kitchen, thanks in large part to Sam who ran a very skillful rag over the counters which may have earned him a few extra points in Santana's book. Like not enough for her to call him up for company, but enough so she wasn't going to just slam the door in his face the next time he stopped by…as long as it was a couple of months before he felt the need to stop by again. Or at least a couple of weeks. She was just putting the finishing touches on the food that she was cooking, when the front door opened. The words were almost instantaneous, "San, I'm h…oh, God, that smells so good!"

Quinn's nose led her into the kitchen where Santana was still standing at the stove. Hands slid around Santana's waist. "What'd you cook?"

Santana sank into her wife's embrace. "Try this?" Santana blew on the contents of the spoon before she brought the blood red concoction up to Quinn's lips. Quinn's tongue poked out for a second, giving a hesitant taste before her mouth wrapped around the entire spoon. "Oh my god, what is that?"

"I took your Grandma's cranberry sauce recipe and made a cranberry orange chutney with it."

Quinn opened her mouth for another taste. "That is so good, sweetie, like really, really good." Quinn held the mouthful in her mouth trying to dissect it completely, sifting through the layers. "What am I tasting?"

"The ginger?"

"No, the bitter sweet thing that's underlining everything."

"Granny smith apple," Santana said proudly. "I boiled a few quarters and then finely cut up some more to give it some added texture."

"Well that, that's a keeper."

"Yea, what can I say, I'm magic."

Quinn pressed a kiss to the back of her wife's neck. "I know. I might just have to keep you around, after all."

"Are you stealing my lines now?"

She felt Quinn's laughter. Santana swung her arm around to put an arm around Quinn. She placed a kiss on her forehead. "How was your day, babe?"

"Ugh," Quinn sighed.

"Was it that bad?"

"I'll be so happy when this Suffolk Fidelity account gets put to bed. Talk about a company who was doing some creative accounting. What about yours?"

"I was giving homework this weekend." Santana decided to leave it at that. She wasn't going to make a big deal out of being a project lead until it was over.

Quinn frowned slightly. "Does that mean that you're going to be going into the office this weekend?"

"No, I can work from home for most of it. Besides, if I stay late for the next couple of days, I shouldn't have to."

"Well good," Quinn said, giving her wife an extra hard squeeze. Upon feeling something off beneath Santana's shirt, she hugged her again feeling the band of her wife's costume. Quinn spun her around so that they were facing each other. With a curious glance, she lifted the bottom of the t-shirt, just now noticing the bottom half of Santana's warrior outfit, and seeing that her face was painted. "You and Noah were on the game?"

Santana nodded. "Yep."

"And you dressed up?"

Santana nodded eagerly, watching the expression on Quinn's face change. She wasn't sure if Quinn's thumb running up and down her arm was subconscious or intentional. Quinn plucked at the fabric covering Santana's chest. "What's with the t-shirt?"

"I had company show up unexpectedly and I had to throw something on." She decided not to mention that said company was Sam for no other reason than she didn't feel like hearing Quinn make a big deal about them being civil to each other, or even worse, try to convince Santana that she should try to spend more time with the boy in the future.

Quinn's fingers made their way under the shirt, teasing both the skin of her stomach, and the strap on the costume. She tugged on the strap sharply, bringing Santana closer to her, their lips sealing together. "You know how I feel about your ceremonial garb."

Santana smiled into the kiss. She winked. "I know."

Quinn buried her hands beneath the shirt, pushing it up off of Santana's shoulders. She took a moment just to admire her wife's nearly naked form, amused when she noticed that the bra matched the rest of the outfit which meant that at some point Santana had had to change it, because that wasn't the same one she'd been wearing earlier.

"A Kari warrior is uniform in all aspects of dress."

Quinn's lips curled. "Oh yeah, what else is a Kari warrior?"

She laid fluttering kisses on Santana's neck. "Mmm…well…strong," she answered, flexing even while Quinn continued to kiss her. "Fearless."

Quinn used her teeth to gently tug at the skin, tracing over the path her teeth took with her tongue. "Sexy…I think that's like a given."

"Definitely," Quinn agreed.

Her hands worked their way around Santana's back, pausing at the back of the clasp to see if Santana would pose an objection, and when she didn't she continued with what she was doing. Quinn kissed the spot where Santana's bra rested on her shoulders as she removed the bra straps off of them.

"Loyal."

Quinn did pause at that word, preventing Santana from saying anything else for a few minutes as she returned to her wife's lips. "I can still taste the sauce on you," Santana said with a laugh. When Quinn opened her mouth even the slightest, perhaps to question what Santana was about to say, Santana stuck her tongue in the other woman's mouth, taking over the kiss.

"You forgot the greatest feature of a Kari warrior," Santana said into Quinn's lips. She flipped them so Quinn's back was the one against the stove. "We're in charge." She palmed a handful of Quinn's ass, lifting her up, and sitting her on the counter. "Completely." She grew more forceful with the kiss as she started to unbutton Quinn's blouse. She had to momentarily stop because Quinn had worn an annoying sweater vest covering the shirt, and she had to pull away to lift the thing over Quinn's head. The fabric was discarded on the kitchen floor, but instead of Santana going back to kissing Quinn, she drew back. She took in the sight of Quinn's heaving chest, as she attempted to calm her breathing, her breast pushing against the purple bra that Quinn had chosen to put on today, a color that made her look even paler than usual.

Her eyes rose in increments until they met with those familiar multi-color orbs that were more golden than green at the moment. Almost lazily, perhaps reverently, Santana undid the clips that kept her wife's hair from flowing free, and she watched it cascade down her head. She was aware of Quinn watching her, and waiting, surprisingly patient, probably wondering what Santana was going to do. She raised a questioning hand to place against the darker haired woman's cheek. Santana turned her head to place kisses on the fingers, soft and gentle, until without warning she sucked the longest of them into her mouth, which produced a moan from Quinn's lips. She sucked lewdly, calling to mind all the times that Quinn had been sprawled on her back with Santana tucked between her legs, her tongue working wonders until she came numerous times, and her legs turned to jelly.

The feeling of Santana's mouth around her was so good, that Quinn didn't even realize that Santana had semi-removed her bra and shirt until she felt Santana's hands on her bare breasts. Santana sucked another finger, her middle, into her mouth, making sure to pay close attention to the space in-between the fingers. Her teeth grazed them every now and then because she knew how much Quinn liked that, and judging by the noises that Quinn was currently making, she was doing something right.

With a pop, Santana surrendered Quinn's fingers only to move further south. Quinn shook her shirt and bra off her arm. She placed kisses to the top of Santana's head, as Santana's thumbs found her nipples and her hands cupped her breast pushing them up. Moments later her longue was lathing affection on them. Quinn's resolve weakened and her hips started to move, needing more contact from her wife. Santana pushed her body further in between her legs, rotating her hips to provide some friction. She didn't otherwise indicate that she had any intention of going any further south than Quinn's breast, so after several minutes of Santana's tongue showing affection on Quinn's nipples, (and with images in Quinn's head of what that tongue could do in other places), Quinn slipped her hand beneath the waistband of her skirt and underwear.

She was unsurprised to find that she was practically drenched. She pressed the fingers that Santana had been sucking on into her core, but she didn't move them. She felt Santana's hands move from her breasts, to her ass, pulling Quinn to her, and rotating her hips in a way that pushed her fingers further inside of her. They continued in this way until Quinn felt a familiar sensation building. Santana panted into her neck, and she wanted to ask her wife if she had come, but she didn't. Instead she laughed, because the last time Santana had worn that outfit, they had pretty much dry humped then, too, and then she remembered that Santana had cried afterwards.

"Sweetie?"

"Yeah, babe?" Santana questioned.

"Why did you cry? That one time?" Quinn was certain she already knew the answer to that, but she wanted to hear it anyway. It only made her love her wife even more that Santana didn't need clarification of what she meant. "Because it was just so much, so much good, so much happy, so much everything, in that one moment. I had maybe just had one of the best sexual experiences ever, and it was with you, and we were married, and I realized that this woman that I loved may possibly love me, back. I mean, what else do you do but cry when you realize that you suddenly had everything you ever wanted?"