Quinn hadn't forgotten that she was supposed to be taking Santana out on a date. It was just that some really serious things had happened in between her asking Santana if she wanted to go on one and now that…okay, she forgot. But a few days ago, she thought that she had irrefutably screwed up their relationship, and that her marriage was over, so it was kind of understandable. Besides, it was only Wednesday. She had plenty of time to figure out what to do. Thursday, she didn't have as much, but she still had some time left. Friday she was panicky. She had never designed a date before. The old standby would be dinner and a movie, but that seemed kind of…lame. And Santana would make sure to let her know that.
Okay, so she needed something big. Parachuting? Maybe if they were doing an all-day date but by the time Santana got off work it would be an impossibility. Figure skating? That seemed more like a winter thing. Ferry ride on a dinner boat to George's Island? Quinn put that in the maybe category.
"What would you think of a date that consisted of a mani/pedi, some power shopping, and a fancy dinner afterwards?"
"I would think he was gay."
"We kind of are; well she is."
"Oh, right," Connie went back to fluffing her hair. "It doesn't really sound like a date, it sounds more of something you'd do with your girl friend. Not like your girlfriend, girlfriend, but your platonic best friend girl friend. It sounds like a pre-date, not the date."
"Oh," Quinn said, frowning.
She thought back to past dates that she'd been on. Dating in high school consisted of Bredstix and making out, so that obviously was a no. What was the best date that she had ever had? She remembered going out with a guy named Davis (first name), and she had had a really good time on that date; she had certainly not stopped laughing, anyway. She tried to remember why, and ended up blushing when she remembered the real reason: she and Santana had been texting throughout the whole date. Now that she remembered it correctly, Davis hadn't enjoyed the date half as much; he didn't call her again.
Maybe Santana would like to go out dancing. Santana loved to dance. That idea was quickly vetoed, however, because going to a club was just inviting a fight because some dumb guy would most likely try to dance with one of them, and one of them would go off and Quinn didn't care how impossible it was, she wanted them to get to their reception without another fight. So no straight clubs. What about a gay one? Santana would probably get a thrill out of seeing Quinn in one, and…Quinn suddenly realized how much of a very bad idea it would be. I mean, sure, in theory all she had to do was avoid theMilky Wayand she wouldn't run into Kelsi, and the odds of her ending up at the same bar as Jenna,well, she didn't know what the odds were, but they hadn't been in her favor recently…and besides, Santana had to be up for work early the next morning, and by the way, what did her wifedo?
Santana had double majored in psychology and English in undergrad, and then gotten a master's in fine arts from Boston College. There was just so little that one could do with a M.F.A. most of which didn't pay that much. She couldn't say that she didn't care about how much Santana made, but she didn't carethatmuch, and again, she and Santana's lifestyles were comparable, so she was sure they made around the same amount financially, but…she made a note to just check the statement the first time Santana's direct deposit came in. Problem: solved. Except that would only solve the mystery of Santana's employment, and did nothing to help her figure out their date.
She realized that she would only get credit for creativity, and if it was too cheesy it just was a no go. Besides, she wanted it to be special. Once she actually started thinking about it, she was almost certain that Santana had never beenaskedon a date before. She was always the one who took the reins, so to speak. There wasn't anything wrong with that, but Santana had been the one to initiate things again between Quinn and Santana, Santana had been the one to break the silence after they had gone that long period without talking, Santana had proposed, and Santana had been the one that had reached out after their argument. Sure Quinn didn't know how exactly to navigate this relationship thing that they were doing at the moment, and it was hard for her to feel secure in it, but she certainly wasn't making Santana feel very secure either. Somehow she felt like this date would either serve that purpose, or have the exact opposite effect.
Now Quinn was really feeling pressured. She needed this date to be good, for that reason alone. So if conventional was out, and she didn't want the date to be too cheesy, what if she just decided to go for ridiculous? Santana would mock an unintentionally cheesy date, but what about an intentionally cheesy one?
Santana was heading out of the office at exactly 4:15. With all the right lights, she would make it back to her apartment by 5:00, and would be ready to go by 6:00. Before she got into her car she texted Quinn'Leaving now. Be ready by 6:00'.
No sooner had she hit send than her phone started ringing. Santana answered it as soon as she heard the chime. "I want you to know that I had to promise to wine and dine my boss to get off early, today, so this better be worth it. We might have a third wheel on our date, too," Santana chuckled.
"How would you like a two week all-expense paid trip to Tucson, Arizona?"
It was immediate: Santana stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and with her eyes darting around to scan the crowd around her she planted her back against the wall of the nearest building. "No," she answered stiffly.
"No? I didn't even give you a date."
"It doesn't matter; whenever it is, the answer is no. I just got married."
"Which no one told you to do."
"I don't need to betoldanything. My answer is no. I can't just disappear for two weeks, and what, say what? What is a believable enough story to be away from your spouse for two weeks?"
"Business trip?"
Santana barked out a laugh. "She barely believes me when I say I have to work on weekends, so yeah, she'll for sure buy that. I've given an answer, and I am hanging up now!"
"Your flight leaves August 27th."
It sounded a lot like an order, which was something Santana had never received before. "That is smack dab in the middle of my honeymoon, so it has now moved from a no to a hell no."
"I wouldn't call you if-,"
"How about we leave it right there. I don't know why you're calling. I don't want to know why you're calling. Whatever you're about to say, I don't want to hear it. Ijustgot married. In 5 weeks' time we're having our reception, and after that we're going on our honeymoon where we are probably going to spend 11 out of the 14 days that we are on vacation arguing with each other, but those 3 days that we actually get along will be the best 3 days of my existence. Can you say that you will give me the same? Ijustbought a red bikini the other day, on sale, and when I wear red she can't keep her hands off of me. If I'm lucky, we won't even get the chance toseethe beach the entire time we're there. You don't put out for me, so what makes you think that you can say anything that could possibly compare with that?"
"Bring her to Arizona, then."
"That sounds like the perfect idea: trade the beach with baby-making views for some desert hotel swimming pool? That sounds just fantastic! And what am I supposed to say when I disappear for hours, maybe days at a time?"
"It's Arizona and you're Latina. Claim you have some family there."
"Okay,wow. You really just pushed me to the exact opposite direction. Good-,"
"August 27th. You're talking about avacation, Santana. You can take a vacation at any time. I'm asking you to keep your priorities in order."
"It's not a vacation, it's my honeymoon. Myhoney moon. I have my priorities in order, Colson. My wife, my marriage, my and her general well-being,thoseare my priorities. Out of respect, I do not wish to hang up on you, but as far as I'm concerned this conversation is over, and it would make me extremely happy if you were able to forget my number as well."
Santana listened for a few seconds, realized that the caller wasn't going to say anything else, and then hung up. She checked the screen to make sure the call really was ended, and saw the missed text from her wife:Great, see you then. Dress comfortably.The second message, sent almost 10 minutes later as if Quinn couldn't figure out whether or not to send it said,Can't wait.
Santana gripped her phone a little tighter in her hand. She gave one last look at the crowd before she threw her phone into her purse, pushed off from the wall, and finished the walk to her car.
Quinn's Prius pulled to a stop outside of Santana's apartment at 5:40, for once getting a parking spot in a decent place, right near the front doors. She was parked on the opposite side of where Santana's apartment was, but still she stared up at the building as if maybe Santana would appear in one of the windows. She got out of the car to light a cigarette, watching as the tobacco and paper burned between her fingers. Quinn didn't smoke all that often, but she always had a pack of cigarettes stuffed down into her purse, and she still did this sometimes. Lit a cigarette and went through the motions. She found it calming, and right now she was nervous. She was nervous without really knowing why she was nervous. So what if it was their first date? It wasn't like if she messed things up there wouldn't be another: they were married. Whoever heard of someone getting a divorce over a bad date?
It's just that she really, really wanted this to go over well.
She had been standing against her car for five minutes when she got a text from Santana that said:babe, almost ready, so why don't you come upstairs and do your worrying on the couch? Mad Men is on.
Quinn gave a laugh because, of course, and she turned off her car, put out the cigarette, and headed upstairs. For some reason it felt like she'd be intruding if she opened the door herself, so she knocked, and Santana answered it without even looking at her. "I'll just be a sec," she said, disappearing back into the bathroom.
Quinn nodded, and sat down on the couch. The TV was on to an old episode ofMad Menand while she had never got into the show while it was on, it gave her something to do other than fidget, while she waited for Santana. "How was work?" Quinn questioned.
She imagined Santana's smile because she couldn't see it. "Work. I never really thought about it before, but it's kind of creepy being in a big building when it's mostly empty. Lucky for me Paulianne isn't the only 9-5 non-conformist in the building."
"Are you ever going to tell me what it is you actually do?"
Santana popped her head into the living room. "I make money."
Quinn quirked a brow at the less than detailed job description. "You're not a stripper are you?"
"A stripper, Quinn? Really? No, I'm not a stripper. If I was you would know because I'd always pay in cash and all of my money would be greasy."
"Why would…oh...ew…Santana! Seriously! What do you do?Youknow I'm a financial analyst."
"Which is the most boring thing ever, by the way."
"That it may be, but you know what I do, and I don't even have an inkling."
"I told you, before. I essentially pick out invitations all day."
"What does it say in your job description?"
Santana considered Quinn's words. It took a minute for her to work it out. "I coordinate information, research, analyze, and put forth a finished product." She nodded when she finished talking; she seemed proud of herself after she said those words.
"Who do you work for?"
This question took a little more consideration on Santana's part. In the end she gave up. "Honestly, I can't tell you," she finally said. "Not until you have a sit down with a big guy, in a cheap suit, who has no sense of humor at all, and I really mean none."
"What does that mean? Are you a spy?" Quinn was hugely upset, but slightly turned on at the prospect of it at the same time. "That's it, isn't it S? You're a spy?"
"I am not a spy," Santana said confidently. "As interesting as that would be. Nor am I a ninja. I am merely bound by contract to my confidentiality which unfortunately does not extend to my wife as well."
Quinn looked worried now. "That sounds serious."
Santana shook her head. "Not at all, just annoying cause I'm so good at what I do that sometimes I just want to brag and I can't. So how do I look?"
"You-," and Quinn paused because honestly this woman looked beautiful. She had dressed casually like Quinn instructed, just jeans and a nice blouse. Her hair and make-up were simplistic, but she looked absolutely gorgeous. If possible she looked even better than she did when she was all dolled up.
Santana merely winked at her. "You looked pretty hot yourself, Q," she complimented. "So where are you taking me?"
"It's a surprise," Quinn said, her eyes still on Santana.
Santana sauntered over towards Quinn. "Maybe if you're lucky, later I'll let you unwrap all the shiny paper and see what's inside."
Quinn laughed, then noticed that Santana wasn't wearing heels, which meant that she got to enjoy being taller than her wife, for once.
"So I got you something," Quinn said, when they were in the car.
Santana eagerly held her hands out in front of her. "Oooh, what?"
Quinn reached into the backseat and pulled out the bag she'd gotten from Walgreens. She handed Santana a Kodak disposable camera. Santana looked at the square box in disappointment. "This isn't flowers."
Quinn smiled. "No, it's a camera."
Santana flipped the box around in her hand. "I didn't know they even still made these."
"Well, they do, and I thought that we could use them to take pictures tonight."
"Okay," Santana said, slowly, "but we both have far better cameras than this."
"Remember, once upon a time before digital cameras came around and ruined everything, you actually had to pay attention to what you were doing because you didn't know what you were shooting until you got home and saw the pictures, and then you realized your thumb was in every shot, but every once in a while you got that one perfect picture?"
"Babe, I really think that that was before we were born."
Quinn rolled her eyes. "Just go with it."
Santana smiled. "Alright," she said. She removed the camera from the box and the silver wrapping and took a shot of Quinn. "As you wish."
They drove for about 20 minutes before Quinn parked her car in front of the valet stand in front ofThe Meadowone of the swankiest restaurants in town. It was a 4 star restaurant that celebrities and dignitaries ate at, and had been featured onThe Food Network.Santana looked from the cheap disposable camera that she held in her hands, down at her tastefully chosen yet glaringly understated outfit.
"Wait here," Quinn said with a smile. She got out of the car, circled around it, and opened the door for Santana. She extended a hand to her wife, and helped her out of the car.
One of the valets, who was just finishing up with another guest, walked up to them. "Miss, if you would have waited I would have been more than happy to have helped you out of the car."
Quinn gave him a winning smile. "It's no problem, whatsoever." She gave him the keys, got her ticket, and started to lead Santana toward the restaurant entrance, only to walk right past it. They walked for about a block, further, before they came to their true destination:Blanks Arcade. Santana gave a look at the building in suspicion, until Quinn actually pulled her inside and handed her a cup full of tokens. Santana's eyes lit up, and she actually gave a squeal before kissing Quinn on the cheek and looking for her first game to play.
Blankswas like Chuck 'E Cheese's, just better. Better (and by better greasier, crispier, and more pepperoni) pizza, better games, better prizes. It turned out that Santana was really good at arcade games. Like insanely good. Like if she were this good in Vegas, they would kick her out and ask her to never come back. Within 10 minutes of checking out the machines that issued tickets, she figured out the ones that had the best ticket to coin ratio, and dominated on every game she played. She stayed on a machine right until the point that the parents would come up to complain about her hogging it, and then she pulled Quinn on to something else.
Santana easily and greedily collected her tickets, but didn't just play the ticket games. She played the regular arcade games as well, including Dance Dance which Santana hogged for 20 minutes, but got away with it because in-between challenging Quinn to competitions, she invited random kids to face off against her, too. Quinn ordered pizza, and when theirs was ready they took a quick break, and both of them took a few pictures with their cameras. Quinn captured (or at least she thinks she did) a picture of Santana's eyes rolling back at the first taste of pizza. Santana captured the mom that was standing behind Quinn, and the girlfriend of one of the guys' whose kid was playing.
After about an hour, Quinn broke the news that it was time to go, and the pout Santana gave was not unlike the one the 7-year-old girl beside them was giving her mother at similar news. Santana quickly snapped a picture of that, before she went off to cash in her tickets. Santana spent five minutes feeding her tickets into the ticket counting machine while a bunch of dazed kids just watched. Quinn moved over to the prize wall, eyeing which cheap plush animal she wanted Santana to get for her when she realized that Santana was done feeding her tickets to the machine. She watched her wife stand up, but instead of coming over to her, she made a circuit of the arcade. Quinn was wondering if Santana was going to start playing another game that she'd have to drag her away from, when she stopped beside a little boy who was wearing glasses, had braces on his legs, and was maybe 8 or 9 years old.
Santana whispered something in the little boy's ear before she handed him her ticket voucher. The kid stared at the piece of paper for a long second before he wrapped himself around Santana's legs. The thing that was most surprising about the transaction was that Santana didn't seem surprised or desperate to push him off. She gave him a smile, returned the hug, and made a show of turning around to give Quinn the opportunity to pretend that she didn't see that. Quinn decided to take it, and decided to wait for Santana outside.
"I didn't see anything I liked," Santana said with a sneer when she made her way back to Quinn. "It's all kid's stuff."
Quinn chuckled. "Next time we'll go to Dave & Buster's instead."
"Damn right," Santana returned, failing to sound properly indignant. "Ooh, but when we go we need to invite Mercedes, because she's a fun drunk."
"I'll put it on the list," Quinn said. "That reminds me. What'd you do to Xavier?"
Santana frowned. "Who?"
"Mercedes' now ex."
"I already told you, Quinn. I didn't do anything to him. So where to next?"
Next was laser tag. UnlikeBlanksthe laser tag center was geared more for adults. It took place in one half of an old ware house and was set up to mimic a military training ground. The place,Dark Operatives,and had to be the singularly coolest laser tag center she had ever been to. Quinn and Santana were on the same team, and they solidified, for anyone that doubted, just what the poor fools at McKinley had to learn the hard way: that they were unstoppable as a team. They played two games, and in both instances they won by a wide margin. On the other side of the building, they had a glow in the dark rock wall, and a rock obstacle course that reminded both of them of the Super Aggro Crag fromGuts.
"I don't think this is really fair," Santana said as they waited their turn. She eyed the third in their party, a guy who looked in his mid-20s, and appeared to have all the confidence of the band dorks of McKinley. "I mean, we both know that I'm going to cream the two of you. It's not even like a competition. It's like if Zizes was running against Usain Bolt."
Quinn was jumping in place, ready for the race to start. "We'll see!"
Santana snuck a picture at the attendant who was helping the group in front of them into their harness, rewound the reel, and took a picture of Quinn, too, when she wasn't smiling. It was the 8thpicture she had taken, but only the second that she'd actually taken of Quinn.
Santana slid the camera back into her pocket and turned to the 20 something. "What's your name kid?"
"Jacob," the kid answered, his voice predictably shaky. Santana rolled her eyes because of course it was.
"Jacob, I love that you came out here today, but the sad fact of the matter is that you're about to seriously get schooled. Can you handle that?"
To both Santana and Quinn's surprises, the guy smiled confidentially. "Well, we'll see when we get to the top, won't we?"
Santana pointed at him, turning to Quinn. "I like this guy! You're both totally going to be eating my dust, but I like him!" She decided to snap a quick picture of him before he could object.
A buzzer went off, signaling the start of the next race, and everyone waiting in line or hanging around turned to watch the three make it up the mountain. From where Santana, Quinn, and Jacob were standing they couldn't actually see the course, but they could see the people before them's progression. The three, though not athletic in the least, seemed to be evenly matched and were making their way up the mountain and through the course at nearly the same speed.
Jacob watched how intently Santana was studying the movements, and he shook his head. "If you're trying to memorize the course, there's no point in that. They change it after every run through."
Santana merely shrugged. "Doesn't matter, I don't need to memorize the course. You're still going down!"
"Shoes untied," he said in answer. Santana waited a whole minute before she actually looked down to check. Quinn softly snickered.
The current three finished, and she, Santana, and Jacob were fit into their harnesses and lined up at the gate.Goingdown,Santana mouthed. Quinn unbuttoned two of the buttons on her blouse. The buzzer went off. Quinn and Jacob were gone before Santana could remember what she was supposed to be doing.
"Cheater!" Santana called. She scrambled down her path, anxious to catch up with Jacob and her wife. Jacob was right in that it wasn't the exact same footpath that the group before them had followed. It was different, and somewhat difficult. She couldn't go as fast as she liked, because she had to make sure of the footing, but she figured that she'd rather have a few bumped thighs and arms rather than let Quinn win. She cast a look at the lane to the right of her, surprised to see that Jacob was actually setting a decent pace. Santana watched him for a few more seconds, but then almost missed it when the path jutted suddenly to the left, so she went back to focusing on her own race.
She saw Quinn start to slow down about three-fourths of the way up. Jacob, too, seemed to have some trouble getting over a large rock mound. Santana easily got over her own obstacle, sidestepping a booby trap a few seconds later. She took a risky chance that required balancing on a thin ledge and hoisting herself up rather than going a round about way, which pushed her ahead. Realizing that she'd pretty much won, she slowed just enough to reach her activator a few seconds before Quinn, and then Jacob.
"Nowthat'show they do it up in the heights!" Santana crowed.
"You only won because I've got a bad back," Quinn grumped.
"You've got a bad attitude, Fabray-Lopez." She patted Jacob on the back. "Nice effort," she complimented in a non-sarcastic voice. "Are we doing this again?"
Quinn took one look at the line, and shook her head no.
They had desert at a small little café, and sat down at a private seat in the back of the shop. "So have you always lived in Boston?" Quinn questioned.
Santana gave her a look until she caught on. "Oh, no. I grew up in this small town called Lima. It's in Ohio."
"Soundscharmant."
"That's one way to say it. What about you?"
"My family lived in Dayton until I was 10, and then we moved to Fairbrook Township for three years, before we moved to Lima."
"Wait, you're from Lima, too?"
"Yes."
"Whoa, small world! I can't believe that we never ran into each other before! What brought you to Boston?"
"I went to Yale for my undergraduate years, and thought it would be ironic to go to Harvard for grad school, and since my two best friends already lived here, I thought, hey, it'd be perfect. What about you?"
"A good friend of mine from high school decided to finish her degree up at MIT, and one of my favorite English professors at NYU went to Boston College, so I thought it was worth looking into. I thought I'd only be here until I finished up my degree, but I liked it so much I just never left."
"So you enjoy living in Boston?"
Santana nodded. "I do. Best decision I ever made, moving here."
"So what kind of work are you employed in, now?"
Santana gave a kind of half laugh, picking up Quinn's hand and holding it. "Do you know that's an American thing?"
"What is?"
"Associating people based on their jobs. We may as well walk around carrying business cards in our pockets with our name, job title, and pay grade on them. Back when I was on the dating scene, one beer in, I guarantee you that was the question that was asked."
"When were you on the dating scene?" Quinn questioned, because somehow she had never imagined Santana doing this before. Sure when they weren't having sex (and even if they were), Quinn never thought of Santana actually dating anyone, just sleeping with them.
Santana shrugged. "Every now and then, I'd get lonely and think about having a real relationship. I dated Dani. I dated this one girl, Josie, for two months. There were a few others, but I did date around. Back in college 'what are you majoring in' was the after first beer question, and then 'what do you intend to do' was the second. Whenever I said I was an English major, you could kind of see people check out of the conversation, and so I kind of stopped telling people."
"So is that why you're being so secretive about your career?"
Santana smiled into her wife's eyes. "I told you why I won't tell you. I'm under contract at the moment. Once that's lifted, then sure," Santana gave a half shrug. "Honestly, I figured you would just look at the bank statement. If I wanted it to be a secret, I wouldn't have opened a joint account with you. But, let me ask, if you knew that I was like the store manager of Burger King or something like that would you have still agreed to marry me?"
Quinn was surprised at the question, merely because of the fact that she had agreed to it so readily suggested that she would have. She probably wouldn't rush to tell people that that's what her wife did for a living, but she probably would have still said yes, and deep down would have enjoyed the fact that she made a lot more money than Santana. "San, you forget that I have absolutely no idea what you do, and yet we're married anyway. And hey, you've always been all labels and bling, and I bet everyone who you dated, talked to, or had sex with, was someone attractive so you can't say you're not a bit superficial yourself."
"True. The labels and such, I don't honestly care as much anymore. Don't get me wrong, I love to dress up, and I like things that go sparkle in the night, but I also like to lay around the house in oversized t-shirts and comfortable pants, too."
"And Kari rain-warrior outfits."
Santana smiled slyly. "That to. As for the caliber of women I dated, I dated attractive women because I'm an attractive woman. Women who don't consider themselves as attractive, usually lack the confidence to come up and talk to me, and you should know more than everyone else, how big of a turn on I think power, and confidence, is." She winked at her. "We used to get into our biggest fights whenever you took it from me."
Quinn went back to first date like questions, and they finished up their desserts and got up. When they got back to the car, Quinn hesitated. "So Ididget you flowers, and I know that flowers on a date is a little trite, but the ones I got are special. She opened the trunk and carefully removed the box from the florist.
"I have to explain it. The gladiolus symbolizes strength, because the two of us are going to need to be strong to survive, well, us. The alstromeria represents devotion and friendship. Too, its leaves grow upside down, which I think is perfect because it's kind of like how we're both ass backwards, trying to work our way around. The chain of white clover means 'I promise'. The daffodil is for new birth. The ranuculus means that I'm dazzled by your charms, the rose stems are a symbol of hope, and last, but not least, this one, the ornithogalum, or the Star of Bethlehem, is for reconciliation, which I hope we will always do."
Quinn suddenly looked vulnerable, as she handed the flowers to Santana, who stared down at them as if they were a foreign mass.
"They're beautiful, Quinn. I love them."
The look changed instantly on her face at the words. "I'm glad."
The ride back to Santana's was spent in comfortable silence. Quinn was lucky for the second time today, and had a front row parking space. She parked the car and the two lingered, still playing that this was had been a regular first date.
"So I had a nice time tonight," Santana said.
Quinn smiled. "Yeah?"
Santana nodded. "Yeah. Are you going to walk me up to my door?"
Quinn nodded eagerly, jumping out to open the door for Santana. She offered her her hand. "I had a good time, too. You think maybe we can do this again?"
"I think that can be arranged," Santana decided. "Only I get to choose this time."
Quinn let out a breath. "Oh, thank God! I don't think I would know what to do with another date."
They made it up to Santana's door. Santana hesitated, toying with her keys. Quinn took that as her cue. She lunged forward, pinning Santana against the door of her apartment. Santana responded back just as vigorously, the hand that wasn't holding her flowers, reaching for Quinn, pulling her in closer. Her hands were in the process of unbuttoning Quinn's buttons, when she paused. "W-wait, we have to stop," Santana got out, panting. Quinn let space enter between them, but she still placed kisses on Santana's lips. "Really?" she purred. "Why?"
Santana could feel her eyes rolling back in her head, but she nodded. "I don't put out on the first date," she said seriously.
Quinn had to ask just to be sure that that was actually what she said. "Are you serious?"
Santana nodded. "Yea," she whispered, trying not to give into the feel of Quinn's lips doing magical, magical things to her. "I…um…gotta give them something to want to come back for," she responded. She tried to take a step back, realized that her back was at the door, so she patted Quinn on the shoulder. "Babe you got to step back."
Quinn grunted, but she removed her lips from Santana's, and they both instantly felt the loss. "I still get to spend the night, though, right?"
Santana looked at her like she was an idiot. "Duh."