Quinn woke up to a boob in her hand, Santana's to be more precise, her nipple pressed firmly into the palm of her hand. She didn't really remember falling asleep, just falling into Santana, but she reasoned that since she just woke up, she must have first fallen asleep. She was almost positive, though, that she hadn't fallen asleep with her hand on Santana's breast, and Quinn smiled slightly, amused that unconscious Quinn seemed to crave her wife's body as much as her conscious self did. Quinn leaned in and kissed Santana's exposed shoulder blade.

Santana's skin felt like silk beneath her lips. Unlike Quinn, who had either stretch marks on every conceivable surface of her body, Santana's skin so far remained almost entirely unblemished. She didn't even have freckles. Just smooth, caramel colored skin that went on for miles. Quinn laid kisses all along Santana's upper body. She had skin that was perfect, that tasted as sweet as it looked. And lips…Quinn was sure it would take an entire day to describe in full detail just how much Quinn loved Santana's lips.

"Babe, what're you doing?" Santana whispered.

"Memorizing this body," Quinn paused only long enough to answer. She gave Santana's breast a squeeze when she realized that her hand hadn't yet moved from it. "My body."

Santana let out a soft breath of air. "It is your body," she agreed.

Quinn continued to kiss along Santana's shoulders and back, her breast hand lightly kneading, the other one, the one that had been buried underneath Santana while she slept, gently turned Santana over so she was properly beneath her. Santana's eyes flopped open, and she smiled sleepily up at Quinn. Her eyelashes practically dusting her cheeks. "Hi."

Quinn leaned down and kissed those lips that really needed its own song. She drew away from them slowly, reluctantly. "Good morning." Quinn removed her breast hand, placing both of her hands on either side of Santana's head. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mmm," Santana buzzed. "I woke up even better than I slept."

Quinn's lips moved lower. "Did you?"

"Yep." Santana nodded, watching Quinn kiss her way downwards. "What'cha doing?"

"What do you think?" Quinn questioned, continuing her movement.

Santana smiled. "That's what I thought you were doing."

"Spread your legs for me, San."

Santana started to, moaning softly, but then she suddenly realized what she was doing, and her legs snapped closed. "Quinn!"

"What?" Quinn questioned, innocently.

Santana scrambled to cover herself up. "I was serious! Not until we move in together!"

Quinn rested atop Santana's now closed legs. It wasn't fair. She could smell Santana's arousal. "You were really serious about that?"

"Yes!" Santana said firmly. She leaned over and picked up Quinn's discarded shirt from last night, pulling it down over her head. "Consider this us dating, and pretend I was you circa freshman year."

"But we'remarried!" Quinn kind of whined. She pouted, "And you said I get to have sex with you whenever I want." In a way it was funny. So far, the only one of those things that Santana had told Quinn she'd give her, or do for her if they got married, the only one she hadn't stuck to was the sex whenever one, when Quinn would have thought that Santana would have eagerly acquiesced.

Once Quinn's shirt was on Santana, she must have felt better protected, because she kissed Quinn on the lips. "And in six months, we can start that back up, I'll let you take me up against a building in Times Square if you want, but right now we're back to middle school rules."

"Middle school?"

"Feet on the floor at all times, hands above the waist, folded over notes asking for permission to hold each other's hands after class."

"Really?"

"No, on the last part, but it would be cute, wouldn't it?"

Quinn smirked. "Santana Lopez likes cute?"

"SantanaFabray-Lopez likes a lot of things, and I want you to discover all of them, just like I want to discover all of you, which is why we're doing this."

"Okay," Quinn said, reluctantly, her voice still a whine. "But how about we put a moratorium on that until…Monday.I mean no one really gives up sex on the weekends. It's like Newton's third law."

"Funny, I could have sworn that was for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction."

"See, that's not fair! You can't be smart, and sexy, and tell me that I can't have sex with you when I know you probably know the formula for that as well."

"Force (F) sub 1 is equal to negative F sub 2," Santana said cockily.

Quinn surged forward, pressing her lips against Santana's.

"Ah, geez, easy much, Luce? That's like the easiest formula to memorize. That's like spouting off the Pythagorean Theorem, it's not even impressive."

"No, but you're still hella sexy Santana."

"Did you say 'hella'? Remember when you didn't use to cuss?"

"Actually…no. I just turned on my filter at school, and you never did."

"Cause I always gots to keep it real, Fabray. Check the credits."

"So is that why you always went on about Lima Heights Adjacent? Cause you were keeping it real?"

Santana blushed. "Word."

Quinn kissed her again. "Just one last time?"

"Communication is key to a happy marriage. I don't think either of us wants to be stuck with the other for forever and be miserable. We need to figure out how to function without sex. In the past we've either solved our problems by slapping each other, getting into fights with each other, not talking with each other, or fucking each other."

"The latter of which I am very much in appreciation of."

Santana looked up to Quinn because Santana was always shorter than her wife in the mornings. "It's only six months, babe. I thought I was supposed to be the horn dog in our relationship."

Quinn fluttered her eye lashes at Santana. "You corrupted me, San; once you opened up that can of worms, you can't close it back."

Santana gave a sideways smirk again, and gave Quinn's ass a slap. "I'm going to go take a shower, we should be leaving soon anyway, but I'll be sure to go slow…you know in case you want to give yourself a helping hand."

An hour and a half later, Santana and Quinn were in Santana's car, heading toward Framingham. In the passenger seat, Quinn yawned, wishing she had remembered to pour herself a cup of coffee before they left the house. And Target. At least she had remembered to eat. "Does…your friend work in Boston."

"Hazel," Santana supplied, "No. She works at Barnes & Noble."

"Is that why you have so many children's books?"

"What do you mean?"

"You have alotof books, Santana."

That smirk appeared on her wife's face. "I do know how to read, you know."

"I know you know how to read, but you've got an insane amount of kid's books, especially since you don't have a kid." Quinn was sure she probably had more kid's books than adult ones. "Like seriously, a lot. Why do you have so many children's books?"

"In support of my senior thesis for psychology I had to do a lot of reading of children's books, and I kind of got in the habit of collecting them."

Quinn hated when Santana's explanations sounded so plausible. "What was the paper on?"

"How groups represent otherness in literature, and how it affects the interpersonal relationships the readers develop and make throughout their lives. I still have the paper around the apartment somewhere if you ever want to read it. It ended up being like 35 pages," she said proudly. "Not including the data!"

"So what was the paper on?" Quinn repeated.

"I know that wasn't too difficult for you to understand, Quinn, you're a Yale grad." Santana rolled her eyes. "In more lay terms it's about how authors present race and economy in books, and whether it effects the relationships the readers make on behalf of that. Of course it's a moot point, because we don't live in a vacuum, but I looked at how the protagonist is presented in a book, versus how the antagonist is. What physical traits are used to describe them? How does the author treat those traits?Narniais a great example, simply because there's so much literature written about it, which means I got a lot of source material which," she waved her hand. "I lovedNarniaas a kid growing up, but it always kind of made me uneasy when I read it, and I never understood why, until I went back and read it as an adult.

"As George Orwell so famously said, 'all art is propaganda'. Children's literature is a fascinating study, in my opinion, because it is where adults attempt to represent childhood rules of morality and fair play, as determined by adults. Like the vampires inInterviewwiththeVampire, who were vampires pretending to be humans, pretending to be vampires. That's kind of the situation you get into when you have adults writing children's books, because whereas children are far less biased towards other children, adults have let years of experiences, prejudices, and their own ideals, shape and determine their bias and that is reflected in their writing, no matter how subconscious it is.

"I could probably talk about the paper for hours, it's one that I was intensely proud of, but you should probably just read it. If I can find it."

"If I do, is it going to ruinNarniafor me?" Quinn joked.

Santana gave a chuckle. "I doubt it. Maybe see it a different way, but not ruin it."

"Is that how you met, Hazel? At a book store?"

"No."

"How'd you meet?"

"We just kind of ran into each other, and she was cool people so we just started talking."

"Did you sleep with her?"

"What's with all the questions?"

"You want to communicate, I'm communicating. You're close enough with someone that she made you the godmother of her kid, so I want to know about her."

"Okay, sorry," Santana said. "I never slept with Hazel. We're not actually that close anymore. We were at the time that Phil was born, so she made me his godmother."

"Did she go to BC?"

"No, she dropped out. She was at Northeastern a while back; before I moved to Boston, though."

"Do you think she's someone I'll like?"

"I hope you'll like her. Hazel doesn't have many friends, and she gets really lonely. Right now all she has is me and Phil, and really she doesn't have me that much. She doesn't come to the city, and I can't make it out here all that often. It's only an hour there and back, but even on the days when I get off at 4:00, in order to spend even a few hours out here means I don't come home until late, and I don't want to be that kind of wife. Growing up, I kept a picture of my dad underneath my pillow so I wouldn't forget what he looked like."

"Really?" Santana straightened in her seat and didn't answer. "I could start going to the gym," Quinn volunteered.

Santana raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Like, say on Thursdays. I could go to the gym, and join a book club, or me and Mercedes can have girlfriend nights, that way you could go visit, and you don't have to worry about being neglectful or anything, especially since it's only one night a week, and on the weekends, when we're not doing stuff together," Quinn cut herself off, because she was rambling.

Santana kissed Quinn on the hand. "You're awesome, babe, you know that? I'll think about it."

"Of course it'd have to be after the reception, though." Santana nodded.

"I wanted to run something by you that mom, my mom, brought up and I wanted to know what you thought?"

"Lay it on me, baby?"

"Do you want to have a ceremony? Mom thought that since we're going to have all of the friends and family that weren't there when we actually got married, which was everyone except Mercy and Brittany, that maybe we'd like to have like a re-do, and if you don't want to, we don't have to, I just thought I'd bring it up."

"Quinn?"

"Yes?"

"Do you want to have a ceremony?"

"Yes," she said enthusiastically. "Very much."
"Then I want to have a ceremony, too."

Quinn smiled a big beaming smile. "Does that mean that you want a big, white wedding dress with lots of beads and bling on it, too?"

"No, I think I'll be fine with a simple cocktail gown."

"I think I'll be fine with you in a simple cocktail gown. Bottle green, maybe?"

"Are you reprising the 'drux' from Puck's wedding?"

"I hadn't planned on it."

Quinn's thoughts turned to other things thinking about Santana wearing the dress, skirt combination. "Hey remember when we were going to Puck's wedding, and you kind of like jumped me in the car?"

Her typical smirk appeared on her lips. "Yeah…"

"You want to have a repeat?"

Santana shook her head. "You're going to be the death of me, you know that?"

Quinn played with Santana's hand, and tried not to think of those skilled fingers being buried deep inside of her. "What's the longest you've ever gone without sex?"

Santana sighed. "Quinn you are obsessing. Iknowyou've gone longer than six months without sex before, and right now it hasn't even been a day."

Santana didn't see Quinn roll her eyes, but she knew that she did. "I'm not obsessing, I'm just curious, San. To be honest, I've never know you to go very long without it."

"What if I don't want to answer that?"

"Is it like a month or two? Two weeks?"

"15 years."

At first Quinn thought that Santana had said months, and was surprised and wanted to call bull shit, but then she realized what Santana had really said. "Before you started having sex doesn't count…wait…you were fifteen when you lost your virginity? I thought you lost it to Dean Cooper at winter formal freshman year."

"You forget, Quinn, I'm practically a year older than everyone else because my birthday is so late in the year. And that's such a dumb expression; I didn'tloseit, I know exactly who it went to. It was at theendof freshman year, the summer really because it was the last day of school. Dean tried, yes, but I said no, and he tried again, and when I said no the second time, he took me home. The next day everyone wanted to know if me and Dean had really had sex, and I just kind of didn't tell anyone otherwise."

"Even me."

"No, I told you that I didn't sleep with Dean and you didn't believe me, remember? We didn't talk for like two days because you thought I was lying to you."

"So, who was your first, then? I know it had to have either been Puck or Brittany."

Santana gave a sheepish looking grin. "It was kind of both. I mean Brittany and I were making out at Puck's party, kind of like we always do, and then we ended up down in the basement, and one thing lead to another,"

"I get it."

"Afterwards, I freaked out because I didn't think that I was supposed to be feeling like this over a girl, so I dragged Puck away from whatever slut he was trying to bang, and…we had sex."

Santana chanced a glance at her wife. "What's that look for?" she questioned. "You know I've had sex with Puck, and you know I've had sex with Brittany; I told you right after it happened."

"It's silly I know, but I liked it better when you lost your virginity to Dean. Brittany was your first."

"And you are my last," Santana said. "Which do you think's more important? I mean how many people can say that they tamedtheSantana Lopez?"

A mile passed in silence.

"Quinn?"

"You're right. I…I'm making peace with it. So how long?" Quinn questioned, again.

"You don't want to know the answer to that," Santana warned her.

Quinn's hulk poked her head out. "If I didn't want to know, I wouldn't have asked," she snapped. Just as soon as it came on, it disappeared, and Quinn waited to see if Santana would just answer the question.

"Eight months, two weeks, and two days."

Quinn blinked at how exact Santana sounded when she said that. It didn't leave any room for Quinn to even doubt that the words were true. "Well that is…awfully precise." Santana shrugged. Quinn waited, but Santana didn't say anything. "Aren't you going to ask me?"

"Babe, you only ask questions to the things that you don't know the answer to." Santana smiled. "I know the longest you've gone without having sex."

"Really?" Quinn challenged. Santana nodded. She looked at her wife intently. "Okay, how long has it been?"

"That depends."

Of course it did.

"On?"

"Whether or not you had sex with Finn junior year," Santana surprisingly said. Quinn was surprised, because she was expecting Santana to make up some excuse to weasel information from her. "Ifyou had sex with Finn, it's a year and five months, if you didn't it's been two years and a month give or take a few weeks and a day. So which one is it?"

Quinn's face was a near perfect mask when she replied, "I didn't sleep with Finn."

Santana's hand came down triumphantly on the steering wheel. "Hah, knew it! But you must have had some really intense make out sessions together because you had this look, you know the one you get, baby, where you look intensely self-satisfied? God, I wonder how long you wore it afterwe'd had sex for the first time. I hate that I missed seeing it. I would have rode your ass so hard…Hmm…" Santana got real quiet. She stared almost meditatively at the road.

Quinn bit down on her lip, shifting on the seat. "You knew I was lying that night," she realized. "When I suggested that I'd never had sex with a girl before?"

Santana briefly took her eyes off the road. "I did. But you looked so hot with your sex sheen and just fucked hair that I went with it. If it makes you feel better, I forgive you."

"How'd you know?" Quinn was curious because she thought she had done a fairly good job of not being obvious about it, and most of that affair had happened during the summer.

"I told you, you have this look to you. And Brittany and I weren't having sex that summer so I wasincrediblyfrustrated, which meant my instincts were incredibly fine-tuned, and after July you stopped with our make-out sessions which havealwaysbeen a kind of summer tradition."

Quinn didn't really know how to process this new revelation. "So you knew I wasn't experimenting on Valentine's Day?" Santana nodded. "Why'd you go along with it?"

"Are you kidding? I got to have sex with Quinn fucking Fabray. By my count only two other people had gotten to do that before I came along. I considered it a kind of social experiment. If having sex with some trash girl who makes out with truck drivers could turn you into a skank, what on Earth would become of you once you had a Lopez underneath your belt?" Santana did a kind of thrusting seat dance.

Quinn was too thrown off to really appreciate it, though. "I can't believe you knew I had sex with Mack and pretended that you didn't."

"I can't believe that you had sex with Mack and didn't tell me. Besides, I only halfway count her because we both know she was just a Rachel Berry stand in, so I consider it as you really having sex with Rachel."

"I wasn't as in to her as you think I was."

Santana snorted. "Oh, right, Quinnie. Is that why you made out with her that weekend in New York?"

"I told you, I was drunk!"

"Drunk words are sober thoughts. Drunken kisses are our heart's wishes," Santana sing-songed.

Quinn scowled. "You know know-it-alls are annoying as hell, right?"

Santana shrugged. "I can't stop being the awesomeness that is Santana Lopez. I've tried turning it off, but could superman stop being super? Can Mr. Incredible, stop being incredible? My hands are tied, babe. I'm just awesome and I know it."

"So to what do we owe this horrific eight month draught in the life of the awesome sex goddess Santana? Coma? Jail? Foreign Legion?" As she asked, she tried to rethink the instances over the years. She felt like she should remember because at the very least it had probably been an uncomfortable time period for the people in her life who'd had to deal with her. A sexually frustrated Santana was nobody's friend.

Santana's eyes flickered over Quinn's. "Do you really want to know?" she questioned. Quinn nodded eagerly. Santana shrugged. "After sex, once, I told this girl that I loved her, as I held her. I whispered it in her ear, because I thought she was asleep. I'd never told her before. I was scared of saying it out loud because I'd only said those words to one other person before her, and that girl ended up rejecting me. I was terrified of being rejected again, but sometimes you just get to this point where you think you have to say it, or you're going to explode…so I did. I guess she really wasn't asleep after all because we didn't talk to each other again for the next eight months."

The smile froze on Quinn's face. She licked her lips. "You didn't sleep with anyone else during that time?"

"No. It took me about four months to realize that she was actively ignoring me, then two more before I thought about trying to go out and find someone to get under so I could get over her, but surprisingly enough, girls don't seem to want to be around you when you can't stop talking about the girl who broke your heart. Luckily for me, after eight months, two weeks, and two days, I called her, and she actually picked up the phone this time. We went back to the way things were, and I learned not to make that mistake again."

The silence was deafening. Quinn knew she could turn on the radio to cover it up, that in five minutes she and Santana would start talking again, that it wouldn't be forgotten but that they would both pretend that the words hadn't been spoken. It was rule number 1 in the Fabray household:If it's not talked about, it goes away.

Quinn didn't turn on the radio, though. She squeezed Santana's hand. "Santana, you do know that I do though, right?"

"Sure, I do," she said confidently. "But now you know why I won't be the one to say it first?"

Quinn nodded. "So, what you're saying is that you won't say it until I say it first, even though I know that you do, and I won't say it because I'm terrified of allowing myself to fall so far into you that I lose myself, even though I'm already gone?"

"That sounds about right," Santana agreed. She smiled and seemed to accept without any bitterness that fact that there were these three words in both of their vocabularies that they didn't seem to be able to say to each other. It was ridiculous because they bothknewthe other loved them, but they were both paralyzed from saying it. It was so dysfunctional, but hey, that was them. How many times had they said stuff that was biting and had been aimed directly for the jugular, only to turn around and be back to being best friends the next day? It's the way they've always been. But…(and this was the part of Quinn that still read Nicholas Sparks books no matter how paint-by-numbers the stories all were, and liked Twilight for the same reason) she didn't want it to always be them.

That thought was against her programming. She was never raised to fall for the idea of romance, but that didn't stop her from wanting it. To want the princess charming on the white horse, who was willing to fight to the death for her (without dying of course). Was Santana really her soul mate? Were they destined to spend the rest of their lives together? Despite Santana constantly saying that they were never going to divorce, were those words strong enough to mean it fifteen years down the road? Quinn didn't know, but she didn't need an answer to that right now, because right now she was married to the woman that she loved, and that was good enough for her.

"Lot of thinking going on over there, Fa-, damn it, I'm like Puck. I'm really going to have to figure out something to call you instead of Fabray since you went and changed your last name."

"You could just call me Quinn, you know. There's like this amazing thing called a first name. Well, second."

"I could call you Lucy," Santana said, and Quinn was surprised that Santana didn't sound like she was joking or making fun of her. "I know you banished her to the seventh circle of hell when you bartered away your soul, but I just want you to remember, I was your friend when you were still Lucy. I liked her. I could talk to her about places I'd been to, and wanted to visit, and science and geography, and books that we read and that we both liked, and that was cool with her."

"Yeah, because she practically worshiped the ground that you walked on," Quinn all-but-mumbled.

"And see…she wassmart. I'm willing to even go so far as to call her a genius!"

Quinn kind of sighed without meaning to. They passed by a sign that welcomed them into Framingham. "Do you ever wonder what we would have been if I hadn't become Quinn? It I had stayed Lucy?"

"You did stay Lucy." Santana informed her. "You've just been going by a nickname all this time."

Santana pulled her car to a stop in front of a kind of not-ideal apartment complex. It was decent enough, the grounds kept up, but there was a kind of dinginess that hung around the place. Or maybe that was just the Quinn Fabray who had never been too very far from the country club. Santana gave her a sideways glance, as if she knew her thoughts, and offered a hand to her. "It's the one on the end, on the top floor," Santana directed. She hesitated for a second at the top of the stairs. "Hey Q?"

"Yea?"

"I probably should warn you-,"

A door opened just then, and a knee high mop of curly black hair came rushing out of the apartment, flinging itself at them, saying, "Mama! You're here! I almost didn't think that you were ever going to come back!"

And the only thoughts Quinn could think about as she took in the scene were the things it seemed that Santana had subtly been hinting at: that she and Quinn hadn't talked for eight in a half, nearly nine months, that that had been more than five years ago, and that there was a four year old kid who looked very much like Santana, planting kisses all over her wife's face. There was only one conclusion that her brain could come up with, and it almost felt like she was hit by a phantom wave of morning sickness just at the thought because damn it she was so not ready for this: Santana had a son.