Santana sang along softly with the radio as she made her way to Quinn's after work. It had been a tough day and all she wanted to do was kick her shoes off, lay back on the couch, have Quinn give her head, eat, and go to bed. Work had been working her rough lately, and she had this crick in her neck that she was positive was in direct correlation to this guy named Basheri who she didn't like on principal alone, and doubly hated when he breathed his hot breath in her face. At a stop light Santana texted Quinn to confirm that she was already there, and wondered what her chances were of having another come-home-to-see-her-wife-horny-and-in-costume moment.

She was mildly hopeful when she walked in and saw the mess in front of her. "What the hell is all this?" Santana questioned.

Quinn ghosted past her and gave her a kiss on the lips. "They're samples for our invitations."

"I thought I was done being punished," Santana grunted. It was already starting to sound like this was not going to turn into her relaxing evening. "Invitations for what?" Santana had moved to the kitchen. Quinn only had wine coolers in the fridge, though, so she poured herself a glass of water. She was really going to have to give her wife a shopping list.

"For our reception."

Santana handed Quinn a glass of water as well. "I thought I already handled that."

"Sending out a mass picture text of us that said, 'She's my misses, now, bitches'!with a date and time doesn't count."

Santana straddled the chair beside Quinn, a pout on her face. "I thought it was clever."

Quinn lightly stroked her cheek. "Oh, it was," she told her, "but we should cover all bases and go a more traditional route, too."

"Are you being condescending?"

"A little, yeah." Quinn pushed four squares of cardstock, and a handful of different calligraphy styles toward Santana. "Tell me what you think about these?" Santana grunted. "Sooner we do this, the sooner it gets done," Quinn pressed.

"Babe, they're just announcements. I don't care what they look like."

Quinn fought to hide her disappointment at her statement. "Well…okay, fine. There's one that I really liked, I just thought since it'sourday that we'd do this together. So I guess we'll just go with this design here?" Quinn showed her a thick beige card, with lace trim, and a thick cursive.

Santana only gave it a cursory look. "No, I don't like that one."

"What's wrong with it?"

Santana shrugged. "I just don't like it."

"Okay, well what about-,"

Santana cut her off. "I told you, I don't care. Whatever you pick, I'll like."

"Just not the first one I showed you?"

Santana nodded. "Right. But anything else, I'm down," she added agreeably.

Quinn looked back down at the same different patterns and styles that she had been looking at all day when she'd had a break at work. "Okay, what about the indented off-white with the embossed rose and scrolling French script?"

"Perfect! Good job, baby! Is there a new Orphan Black coming on tonight?"

"Now who's being condescending?"

"I'm not. Let's order that, and get them sent out."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"You sure?"

Santana nodded enthusiastically. "Whatever you like, baby."

Quinn put together the ensemble and showed it to her. "This is what they'll look like. I really like the rose and the trim. I think this is it."

Santana frowned. "Oh," she said, looking it over. Her lip curled up. "I don't like it."

"What don't you like about it?"

Santana squinted, trying to come up with the right words. "I don't know…it's…fugly? Baby do we really have to do this? I kind of like do this all day at work, and I just want to relax, and chill, and like fuck you on the table or something since you didn't cook and I'm kind of hungry, and then have a beer, which I can't because you only have stupid wine coolers in the refrigerator, and we really need to talk about groceries at some point."

Quinn sifted through Santana's rambling. She settled on one statement. "What's wrong with wine coolers?"

"Like seriously? You try to make a case for how you're more butch than me, and you ask that? There's beer, and there's liquor." She waved her hands. "There's nothing in between. I'll text you a shopping list so you know what beer to get me."

"Er…why can't you do your own grocery shopping?"

Santana gave her typical confused look. "Cause, I thought that's why people got wives, you know to, like, go shopping for you and stuff."

"You do realize that you'remywife, too, right?"

Santana just kind of stared at her before she rubbed her temple. "Urgh, why are you confusing my head with useless words, baby? I had a long day!"

Quinn decided that she wanted their very first vacation together to be a trip into Santana's mind because she was sure that it was a great place to be.

"Tell you what, how about if you help me pick out our invitations, and some other things, and then I'll go shoppingwithyou tomorrow after work?"

"I already told you, an invitation is an invitation, it doesn't matter what it looks like."

"Yet, you keep on turning down my suggestions, so it would save time if we just sat down and picked out ones that we can both agree on." Santana groaned, and Quinn grinned. "Okay, so let's start with weight first, I guess."

Santana bit her lip, looked at the options displayed in front of her, picked a trim, a card stock, a calligraphy set, and a style, and showed it to Quinn who expected it to be the worst possible combination imaginable, and was surprised when it wasn't at all. "That's actually…"

"Perfect," Santana supplied, cockily. "I know."

Quinn was upset that she couldn't find something that was wrong with it. "How?"

"I told you, I do this all day at work, baby. I'm like a design whisperer or some shit."

"What is it exactly that you do?"

Santana laughed because they had known each other for 16 years, had been sleeping together for 9, and they didn't know what each other did for a living. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. That reminds me, though: what's your favorite color?"

"Um…green…why?"

"I actually knew that, never mind."

Quinn gave a questioning look. "What's that about?"

"I figured if we didn't know what each other did, we probably didn't know simple stuff about each other like favorite color," she shrugged, "but I was wrong, I guess I know you after all."

"What'd you just say?"

"I know you after all?"

"No, not that. Before that?"

"I was…oh, very funny, Fabray."

"Lopez."

Santana paused for a second before she started clapping, an ecstatic smile appearing on her face. "Ha! Now I've even got you saying it!"

Quinn realized what she'd done and buried her head in her hands. "Shit." Santana suddenly knocked the box of cards from the table, sending them flying. "Why the hell did you just do that?" Quinn demanded.

"We need to have sex right now," Santana said seriously.

"Why?" Was she really questioning why she and Santana needed to have sex? Did the reason even remotely matter?

"Because we just had a cute, couple-y moment, and we're not cute couple-y type of people. So, you need to like, screw the taste out of my mouth, or something."

"Oh," Quinn replied. "Well how about we let it go just this once, and we'll pretend that it never happened so we can finish this and make a grocery list?"

"This is starting to seem way too domestic," Santana decided.

She was thinking that it'd been kind of nice. "Santana we'remarried.How much more domestic do you think it gets?"

"I keep forgetting that."

"Yet you never forget to correct anyone who leaves off the Lopez on the end of my name."

"Well, duh, because that's your name," Santana stated. "How in the world am I supposed to forget yourname?"

"Your logic astounds me sometimes."

Santana gave her a blank look. "Quinn, you know the cardinal rule: Don't apply logic to Lopez."

"I see that." Santana suddenly jumped up. "Where are you going?"

"I've come to the realization that you're not cooking me dinner tonight, and I'm starving. Sweet and sour chicken still your guilty pleasure?"

Quinn took a moment to be embarrassed. "Umm…yes, actually."

Santana winked at her. "Don't worry, I'll order the steamed veggies and brown rice, too, and we can both pretend that we're going to eat them. Sue will never have to know!"

Quinn was halfway to thinking that her wife was actually kind of perfect, but then she spied the mess on the floor, and reconsidered. She felt a kiss on her cheek. "What're you thinking about?"

Quinn gave a bland smile. "Nothing much."

"Food should be here in 45."

Santana bent to pick up the cards that she knocked over. "You know if we had went ahead and had sex I wouldn't have to pick these things up."

"Sex wouldn't have magically made them disappear, Santana."

"Yes, it would have," she insisted.

"No, they'd just stay on the floor until I stumbled over them later and picked them up."

"See, you just proved my point:Iwouldn't be picking them up. Oh, hey, I just remembered that I need some of that foamy stuff for my bathroom so can you put that on the list? And I think I might be out of toilet paper. And eggs. I need eggs."

"There's eggs here."

"Yea, but I want to make you an omelet for breakfast on Saturday, and I'm out at my apartment. That sort of reminds me, have you gotten in touch with mami yet? I know it'sourreception, but she's been planning this for like a billion years, and she's going to be hurt and all that if you don't involve her."

"I know better than to leave her out, and I am more than willing to defer to mom as much as possible. I just figure that there's some things that we need to handle ourselves."

That infectious smile appeared on Santana's face. "Say that again?"

Quinn looked confused. "Say what? What did I say?"

"You said mom, not 'your mom', but mom. I like that."

She rolled her eyes. "Please, I've known Maribel as long as I've known you. It was bound to happen at some point or other."

Santana surged up, crashing her lips down onto Quinn's. She lifted her up, planting her on the table. "Santana!"

"I just want to fuck you so badly right now," Santana murmured. She started to tug at Quinn's clothes, wondering why they were even still on. "How about," she pushed her suit jacket from her shoulders, "from now on," she sucked on Quinn's neck while unbuttoning the shirt, "when you get off of work first," Santana paused for a quick minute to admire Quinn's bra encased breasts, "you just strip as soon as you get home. Like just be naked and waiting for me as soon as I come in?"

Quinn had just wrapped her legs around Santana's waist when there was a knock on the door. "You're fucking kidding me," Santana grunted. She placed a lingering kiss on Quinn's lips. "Don't move." She paused, and placed a kiss between Quinn's legs, too. "Like stay, just like that."

Santana scrambled to find her wallet. "You have the worst possible timing," she said to a stricken delivery boy when she opened the door. "How much do I owe you?"

The guy checked the tag and told her the price. Santana handed him two twenties, and grabbed the bag from him. "I don't need any change," she said quickly, briefly seeing the guys smile before the door slammed shut. She nearly dropped the food in the doorway in her haste to get back to a Quinn that had not only redressed, but was wearing her bed clothes.

Santana stopped so quickly she nearly rocked in place. "Why are you wearing clothes?" she protested.

"Haven't you been moaning about being hungry for the past hour and a half?"

Santana looked grumpily at her redressed wife. "Yeah, but you know I can multitask. I was going to use you as the plate."

When she realized that Quinn wasn't going to go for it, she stomped over to the couch and picked up the remote control, flickering through the channels. Quinn refilled their water glasses, and joined Santana on the couch. Instead of sitting beside her, though, she pushed Santana forward so that she could sit behind her and hold her while they ate. And Santana, who had been pointing out how domesticated the two of them were being all night, didn't say one word about it, or about them feeding each other as they watched TV together until they were full and Santana ended up falling asleep in the middle of a rerun of the Big Bang Theory.

Quinn quickly cleaned up their mess, laughing to herself because neither of them had even so much as touched the brown rice and veggies. She was about to turn off the TV, when a sound from Santana had her eyes trained on her. She actually gasped, because Santana was just so astoundingly beautiful. Santana was sexy, but she was also soft, acidic, but knew how to be kind, funny, but on the very rare occasion was serious. She was a good friend, Quinn's best friend, and yea, completely insatiable when it came to sex. And hers. No one else got to see all the sides of Santana like she did, they didn't get to nudge her out of bed at night to get her a glass of water, or get to have her fall asleep against them.

She brushed the hair off of Santana's face so she could see her better. Fingers shaking she let them ghost along Santana's face, softly touching her way down her nose, across her cheek bones, and down to her lips. Quinn placed the softest of kisses on them, and when she leaned back and opened her eyes it was to see Santana's eyes had opened, and she was watching her. She smiled softly up at Quinn.

"Don't tell my wife," Santana whispered, "but I think you might be an angel."

Quinn slowly kissed her until they were both breathing hard. "I'm going to bed, are you coming?" Before Santana could make a crude comment, Quinn stopped her. "I'mo nlygoing to bed."

"You say that like that's a deal breaker," Santana returned. "It's not like torture to sleep next to you Quinn."

Before she could smile at the sweetness of the statement, Santana threw her arms open. "Carry me," she commanded.