Nothing about visiting an old friend to soothe a heartache could ever go wrong. Even if we did have this little... two-time thing, we're still just friends, right? I mean... it's not like we'll be getting naked or watching romantic comedies... Well maybe we would, but just for some sort of... sleepover... just like when we were kids. And of course, I have a boyfriend, so nothing out of the blue should happen... Right?

Rating: T+...? Is there such a thing? It's not quite M... but not T either. No sex, sorry~

Oneshot for silent12reader! Sorry, dear, I know this was requested for QW14 Day4 (Future Fic), but I has too much on my hands to finish. Now I have it doneee~~ I hope its up to your standards, and sincerely hope you enjoy it! This oneshot was a real challenge for me, and the outcome isn't my favorite ever, but I do believe I've fulfilled all the requests in your prompt (which I will quote at the end of this fic, so as to not ruin it now~).

I need to take a moment to thank the wonderful Quinntana Ever After for being my muse, editing and co-writing this fic (because no, what Quinn hasn't played I haven't either). Couldn't have done this without you!

The setting of this fic is cannon till Glee100. It veers off cannon off there... and... I think that's all I need to mention at the moment... I know some bits are vague in the story, but that's just up for interpretation... Lemme know in the reviews who you think Santana's truly heartbroken over to begin with!

All-nighter

"Mind if I join?" I flash a perfect smile, sweet, and yet somehow dripping with a slow, murderous poison. The ice queen facade is the best to put up, masking my own frustration, confusion, and my knowledge of the current situation.

Brown eyes look warily upwards, raising their gaze from the glass of wine to me. "You're my blind date?" She blurts as her eyes grow wider by the second.

"Blind date?" The words leave my lips, leaving a bitter aftertaste. I frown. I feel my composure slowly slipping away.

"Ohmigod, Quinn! What are you doing here?"

"Rachel?" Immediately, I whip my head around, finding myself face to face with the source of the loud whisper. Yep, composure gone.

"What the hell Rachel?! I thought you said you would not stalk me tonight!" Santana sounds anything but pleased.

"You're her blind date?" I exclaim a little too loudly and despite the loud and somewhat annoying noise of the restaurant, a few heads turn.

"What no!" Rachel looks utterly shocked, almost fake, as a soft pink coming over her cheeks. Santana raises an eyebrow.

"Alright, Berry, be honest, did you call Quinn over as my 'blind date', and then come to stalk us and hope to watch some lesbian action or something?"

"No!" Rachel and I say with the same tone, the same urgency, and at the same time.

She lets out an exasperated sigh, "Santana, she's not your blind date, I'm not your blind date, and your blind date will officially be late in five minutes. I'll tell you what she looks like… she's blonde, just the type you like, and a little wild, but can be tamed, and she has a thing for breadsticks and sings and—"

I frown, pursing my lips into a thin smile, "There's not gonna be a blind date!"

This is so much like Rachel Berry. First she convinces and begs me to come to New York to talk to Santana, only to have a Brittany Pierce thrown in my face again. Not happening. I'm getting Santana out of here before her mythical date can show up.

"What, why? I mean, I know I sort of spoiled the whole 'blind' part, but… " Rachel turns to look at me, a look of mistaken realization crossing her face, "…you're not the blind date, right?"

"No!" I throw my hands in the air, ignoring the attention I'm attracting. "There isn't going to be any blind date, because whoever that girl is, she's gonna get stood up. She's not Santana's type anyway," I lie through my teeth as she walk briskly over to Santana, taking her hand from the table. I yank on her to stand up and begin to drag ourselves out of the restaurant.

"Quinn! It isn't nice to be stood up!" Rachel murmurs, her hand gripping on the chair across the one that Santana had occupied only moments ago.

"Then you take it yourself, Berry! It's a blind date anyway!" I reply in a sing-song voice, the slightest smile forming on my face as I march Santana out of the place.

Halfway down the street, Santana pulls her hand free of my grasp, "What the heck do you think you're doing, Fabray?"

I stop mid-step, "Where's my 'thank you' for saving you from a blind date?"

She says nothing for a moment. Almost as though she has seen or heard something that wasn't meant to be heard—something that she missed and something that made her warm up inside. She approaches me carefully, "What are you doing in New York? Where's your boyfriend?"

"You're welcome," I mutter darkly as I begin walking down the pavement once more. Santana catches up beside me. "He's at the hotel. I was told by a little birdie that you might want a little company."

"Berry the birdie? She told you everything, yeah?" She rolls her eyes, trying to match her pace with mine, "She cares too much about the break up. My break up. And it's not even a big deal. Like, seriously, I'm fine. I'm walkin', talkin', workin' just fine. And she keeps trying to set me up on these dates, meeting one girl or another. It's getting really annoying."

I laugh lightheartedly but not mockingly, "A playgirl like you should enjoy it. And, I know you're not okay, Santana. I can tell."

"How?" She whispers halfheartedly, suddenly sounding distant and detached.

"Secret."

The moon is full in the sky, shining brightly. It shines on our faces, illuminating not only our facial features, but also the tears growing in Santana's eyes. She thinks I cannot see them in the dark.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

The streets are empty, except for the occasional stranger that passes by without turning their head or giving a glance.

"Not really."

I push on anyway, "She was special, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"But you know letting her go is a better choice than forcing her to stay…"

Silence.

"You know, S, they say that relationships are like farts," I pause momentarily to catch a glimpse of Santana's face, "If you have to force it, it's likely crap."

A small but wistful smile forms on Santana's lips as she sighs, "Puck taught you that? I'm sure Quinn Fabray is more civilized than that… comparing relationships to farts."

"Who knows?" My lips curl and I brush my hand against her's lightly, "Do you want to go anywhere tonight?"

"You're trying really hard to be my blind date, Q."

I pause briefly, her words having caught me unaware, but I am quick to regain my composure, "I may be a date of sorts, but you know how I look, so it's not blind… So where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere but home."

"Cheer up."

"Blondie…"

"If I take you out on a date, will you cheer up? A friendly date."

"Hardly a date, Q. Don't you have a curfew with your man?"

"Yeah, in time for breakfast tomorrow with him."

Silence hangs in the air for a moment too brief.

"Alright, fine, surprise me." The signature smirk plastered on Santana's face tells me enough.

I roll my eyes, "The only thing that would surprise you would be if I decided to reenact my little one night stand with you."

"You wouldn't." She shakes her head resolutely, as though making up my mind for me. But of course, I wouldn't.

"Exactly, so why don't you name a place you want to go to?"

"There's no where I want to go that I can go."

"Santana Lopez," I grab her arm, pulling her to a stop, grabbing her shoulders and turning her so she faces me, "Get a grip on yourself. You say you're okay, but look at you. You don't even want to go anywhere with me when I'm practically giving you permission to make a mess out of me!" It's not hard to pull out of her what I want to hear. I know her too well.

"You don't get it, Q. She was everything! I mean… she's in the past, long gone… and it was sort of… a… one time thing? Two time. Like it didn't last. It wasn't meant to. But somewhere inside, it still feels empty… You just… don't get it. Of course you don't." Santana shakes herself free of my hold, glaring at me, looking anything but friendly. Her choice of words and the way she stumbles over them sound oddly suspicious, but I brush it off. I ought not over-analyze anything.

"What don't I get?" I mutter, "I know what it's like to lose something you hold so very fucking dear!"

"No you don't! Quinn, I love with a passion!"

I roll my eyes, wanting to scoff at her words, but I don't. "Santana. I love Beth."

My words silent her's, and whatever cruelties she meant to spit out, she swallows. She takes my hand without another word and begins walking down the road. I don't know where we are going. I doubt she knows either.

"It's been years, hasn't it?" she whispers out of the blue, her fingers tightening their hold on my own.

"Yeah…" I whisper, suddenly feeling weak and feeble almost. I don't want to mention a nightmare. I find myself holding tightly onto Santana.

Her hand feels strangely comforting. It seems perfect for my own hand, the way she intertwines our fingers. I have to admit it feels better than holding Puck's hand.

"I'm sorry, Q."

"Nothing to be sorry for," I murmur.

"Why are you here in New York anyway?" Santana whispers in the dark, as though she doesn't really want me to answer.

But to me, a question asked out loud usually needs an answer, so I whisper back, "For you. We're friends."

"On one night, we were more than that," she reminds me, pulling me a little closer to herself. She laughs mischievously, "I'll be honest, I liked it. Even though you broke my frail heart by telling me you were certain that you weren't lesbian." Her words seem oddly forced, although… that could just be to me…

"How many girls have you been with, S," I raise an eyebrow, "Surely I'm nothing compared to them all?" Somehow hearing her say these words makes me feel a little unsettled. Not necessarily a bad kind of unsettled, but the kind of unsettled that makes your insides sort of flutter.

"Only a handful. You were something to remember, Q. Still are."

"I'm dating Puck."

"I know, I was merely saying," Santana shakes her head as though to dismiss the notion of taking me on a bed or against a wall. "Unless you actually want me to hit on you?"

My phone vibrates against my breast, and I release Santana's hand to get it.

"Since when did you start keeping your phone in your bra like me?" She smirks, seeming to like the idea.

"Shut up. It's Puck calling. Can I take it?"

She shrugs, "He's your boyfriend."

I swipe my finger across the screen to answer, "Hey."

"Hey babe! I'm at Santana's place right now. Kurt said you guys are out though… Just wanted to ask if you'd be coming back to the hotel tonight?"

"Uh… probably not," I murmur, "Probably spending the night out with Santana. You don't mind, right?"

"Nope, not at all! Let's have breakfast together tomorrow though, yeah?"

"Sure, no problem."

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow morning then!"

"Okay. Bye!"

Santana nudges me with her elbow, "You talk to him like you're doing business. You sure your relationship is as smooth-sailing as you make it sound?"

"Of course," I mutter, tucking my phone back in my bra. I notice Santana's eyes follow the motion of my hands. I'm beginning to wonder if she's a bit sex starved.

Santana's eyes twinkle in the moonlight, and without warning, she leans in to whisper in my ear, "Spend a night with me at a hotel."

"Wait what?" I must look hilariously shocked as I trip over my own feet, because Santana's amusement seems to multiply tenfold as she reaches out to steady me.

"Let's get a nice hotel room, watch movies, talk, do shit we used to do at sleepovers together."

"Oh."

"Disappointed that you're not getting any action tonight?" she smirks.

"In your dreams, Lopez. Find us a hotel."

"Right round the corner really," she smiles, taking my hand again, running along the sidewalk. I try to keep up with her as she pushes through the diminishing crowd in the hotel lobby and beelines to the front desk, "Room for two, single bed. One night."

"Santana!" I whack her on her shoulder, "What will these people think, two girls coming in, holding hands, and asking for a single-bedded room! For heaven's sake, they'll think we'll be asking for boiled cucumbers or a dildo soon!"

"Someone's been doing her research… hmm… Room in Rome? Didn't know you were the type to watch a movie like that, Blondie," she laughs, leaning close to me again to whisper something possibly lewd, "but if you don't get your mind out of the gutter we'll end up watching some X-rated show on television. My treat."

Not wanting to run the chance of suffering through said movie with Santana, I reluctantly purse my lips together. I feel heat rising to my cheeks.

"Room 1402, Miss," the man slides a key card across the counter without emotion, "Enjoy your stay!"

Before I have a chance to utter a 'thank you', Santana yanks me across the marbled floor and into a glass elevator.

"Someone's desperate," I smirk, elbowing her in the ribs as the doors shut with a short ring.

"Oh, I'm so desperate I'm going to attack you the moment we enter the room," Santana scoffs, poking me in the cheek.

Sometimes, being alone together makes us highschool kids again. Maybe even younger. Sexual innuendos aside, we can act like children turned loose at a zoo.

The rising of the elevator makes my heart beat a little louder.

Running down the hallway with Santana pulling me along by the hand feels nostalgic. I know this is but a simplistic mirror of the drunken push-pull we experienced in the halls of another hotel a few years ago, but it still makes me feel a little giddy.

When we arrive at the door of our room, I find myself breathless, my cheeks heating up and tinging red.

"Man, you're out of shape!" I hear Santana laugh as the electronic lock gives a low beep and then whirrs open to a soft click.

I bite my lip and remain silent as she drags me into the room, shutting the door. I wait for her to turn on the lights. She doesn't. Suddenly I feel myself pinned to the wall. Santana's body is so close, I can feel her body heat. In fact, she's so close that her hands are pressing my arms to the wall. Shocked at our positions, my mouth opens in a silent gasp.

As my eyes adjust to the dimness of the room, I watch as Santana leans in a little closer, her face hovering inches from mine, her lips in much too close a proximity for comfort. I stop breathing.

I watch as the innocent smile on her face morphs into a lascivious smirk, and finally a mischievous grin. "Just kidding," she chimes as she releases me completely, tucking the key card in a slot that makes all the lights turn on at once and walking over to the bed and jumping onto it stomach-down as though nothing had just happened.

I find myself trapped against the wall by an invisible force, suddenly remembering how to breathe. What the fuck was that?

"I'm hungry," I hear Santana announce as I finally pry myself from the surface of the wall, trying my best to walk normally towards the bed, where Santana sits cross legged.

"Didn't you eat?" I murmur, staring at the floor and standing a few feet from her.

"You dragged me out of the restaurant, remember?" She muses, patting the empty spot on the bed beside her, "Let's order room service."

"I suppose it'll be my money you're spending?" I sigh as I reach over to the nightstand for a menu and toss it to her, before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You said you're taking me out on a date," she flips through the pages as I watch her every movement. "But… I can pay if you want me to. I could take you out on a date."

"No thanks," I lean into her a little more, "What do you want to order?"

"This cheeseburger seems good," Santana rests her fingertips on my arm, making me flinch, "And we can get so me mash potatoes too!"

"Are you sure that's enough to fill your undying appetite," I break out into a lopsided grin as I inch a little closer to her, so I can get a glimpse of the menu too.

"Mm, I'll think of desserts later," she smirks, looking me in the eye and making me immediately recoil, even though I know she's joking.

"In your dreams, maybe," I roll my eyes, plucking the menu from her hands, "I'll order, alright?" I climb off the bed without waiting for a reply and reach for the phone. I dial a '3' for room service, and within a few rings, a man picks up from the other side, "Hello, room service, how may I help you?"

"I'd like a cheeseburger and some mash potatoes sent up to room 1402," I scan down the list of foods, and just before the man repeats my order to me, I murmur, "Oh, and an order of breadsticks, please."

"And a bacon sandwich," Santana whispers into the shell of my ear, making me jump, almost dropping the phone. The menu crashes to the floor.

"And a bacon sandwich," I mutter nervously as I whip around to glare at Santana. She wears a teasing but somewhat apologetic smile on her face, whispering a "whoops" before flopping down onto the bed.

"Alright, a cheeseburger, mash potatoes, breadsticks, and a bacon sandwich, all sent up to room 1402?"

"Yes, thank you."

"No problem, miss. Your order will arrive in a bit!"

As I set the phone down, I heave a soft sigh, looking at Santana, who is looking at the ceiling. "Hey, come here," I murmur, standing at the edge of the bed, straightening out my sun dress, "We haven't seen each other for so long and you still haven't given me a hug or anything."

"Since when did you become a 'huggy' person?" Santana wonders out loud, but she sits up anyway, holding her arms out towards me.

"Stand up, you lazy butt," I cross my arms and look at her expectantly.

"You come over, my lazy butt's comfortable on the duvet," she teases me with a small pout, staring at me defiantly.

I roll my eyes, deciding to give in and climb onto the bed, deciding to sink myself into Santana. And for a moment, I feel like I have nothing to worry about. I close my eyes as I feel her arms wrap tightly around me, and I sag against her, my arms around her neck. It's strange, that one inexplainable feeling that sort of just washes over you like relief of sorts as you hug just that one person. I like Santana's hugs.

It's a moment of peace. I treasure it, although it's a little short-lived.

"You feeling okay?" She murmurs into my hair, holding me a little closer instead of pushing me away.

"Yeah. Thought we needed to bond over something a little more physical than insults," I whisper back, smiling to myself.

"I thought physical bonding wasn't you type of thing," she teases as she runs her fingers through my hair.

"Shut up, you're ruining the moment." I sigh, resting my head on her shoulder, "You should come visit sometime. I sort of weirdly miss you."

"Oh no, don't get all sappy with me!"

"Oh shut up, you're the biggest sap I know."

"Quinn, can I ask you a really awkward question?"

"Please, as if you ever needed permission to ask me things that, even when in public." I pull away slowly, deciding to sit cross-legged facing her.

"No, this is seriously awkward. And you'll probably want to walk out on me right after."

"Shit, you're gonna ask something like when the last time I did some 'self service' was."

"Wanky, but no."

"Just ask already."

"Do you ever regret having fucked me?"

"What?!" I feel heat rush to my cheeks immediately, and I fumble through my thoughts trying to find an answer that wouldn't make me sound like a slut, but wouldn't let her down either. Truth is, I liked it. No, I loved it. So no, I don't regret it. Saying it was more of a 'one-time thing' for me was half a lie. "Well, I—"

A knock sounds on the door at the exact right moment, saving me from embarrassment, "I'll go get it." I climb off the bed, and open the door for the waiter. He rolls in a cart of delicious smelling food, stopping it at the table of our room and laying the dishes on it, "Would you ladies fancy a bottle of wine?"

I look towards Santana, who surprisingly shakes her head. "No thanks, " I smile, handing him a couple of bills for tips, "Thank you for bringing this up."

"Enjoy!" he smiles back, "and have fun, ladies~" I could have sworn he winked before he closed the door behind him.

"Food time!" Santana squeals as if suddenly brought to life with the shutting of the door. She bounces out of bed and towards the table, sitting down on one chair and beckoning me to join her.

I sit down tiredly across her, looking lamely at the steaming food on the table. I have to admit, though, it smells nice.

Santana wastes no time in digging into the cheeseburger and mashed potatoes and breadsticks. She also wastes no time in pushing the bacon sandwich right at me.

"I'm not that hungry," I sigh, pushing the plate away from me. Mid-chew, Santana pushes it back.

"Eat up." She commands with a mouthful of breadsticks, "Or eat out, up to you."

I find myself smiling softly at her comment, deciding to not take any risks. I pick up the sandwich and take a bite. It's good.

"Quinn, tell me about yourself."

I look up from my food, finding Santana staring straight at me. I look away, "What do you want to know? You know so much about me already."

"I dunno. Tell me something I don't know about you."

"There's nothing I can say…" I whisper, taking another bite almost absentmindedly as I scour my brain for something to tell her, "Uh… I started writing a novel recently?"

"Really?" Santana reaches for the mash potato, but seems genuinely interested. That's something new. "What's it about?"

"A love story?"

"Mm, sappy? Or wanky?" She lets out a dramatic gasp, "Is Quinn Fabray writing porn?"

"No, shut up!" I grab the cushion behind me and thrust it at her. She catches it in the nick of time with a grin on her face.

"Quinn's writing pornnnnn, Quinn's writing porrrrrrnnnnnnnn~~" Santana sing-songs, making me bright red in the face.

"Am not." I half-whimper, biting into my sandwich again. Bacon ought to make me forget her words, but it doesn't.

"Just teasing, Q. Don't need to get all red over it. You're redder than the tomato in my cheeseburger."

"Santana!" Looking around and trying to grab another thing to throw, I frown. I'm getting the slightest bit irritated with Santana, but it really does feel like the old times. It feels nice, almost.

"Quinn, I have an idea." She pipes up suddenly, and as I look at her, I realize she's finished most of the food on the table already.

"Oh, what is it?" I groan, shooting a raise of an eyebrow in her direction.

"You're gonna love it."

"Which usually means I'm gonna hate it."

"Mm…" Santana takes a final bite of a breadstick, "It'll be fun. And it will stay in this room."

"Oh shit."

Santana completely ignores my response, deciding to say (in my opinion) very loudly, "Strip poker!"

"What? No!" I stare at her in awkward disbelief as she breaks into a full smirk.

"Come on, Q! Loosen up!"

I stare coldly at her for a long hard moment, before deciding to give in, just for her. "Fine, I have my cardigan, dress, tank-top, bra, and undies on. That's five layers. We play five rounds," I hiss through my teeth, squinting at her with a menacing look.

"Five rounds is all it takes," Santana smiles, leaning across the table, "to get you naked."

Unfortunately for me, she is quite correct.

"How do we play?" I ask.

"Q, this is Texas Holdem. Everybody knows how to play."

"I don't." I pout, feeling strangely naked already.

Santana sighs, grinning the way she does when she knows she has the upper-hand of things, "Okay, I'm going to simplify the rules. We'll skip the blinds."

"What blinds?"

"Doesn't matter. We're skipping them." She sees me frown, adamant on knowing, "Q, it means you don't have to take off any clothes before you see your pocket cards."

"What are pocket cards?"

Santana laughs lightheartedly, obviously amused by my obliviousness. What can I say? Growing up in my family meant card games were related to gambling. Which, of course, was not allowed at all.

"In Texas Holdem, every player makes the best hand they can, using five out of seven cards. Are you with me, so far?"

"Yes."

"Your, 'pocket cards,' are two cards you get, at the start of the game. Only you get to use these cards, in your five card hand. Normally, betting begins once everyone receives their pocket cards."

"But I'll only have two cards!"

"So I'm going to simplify it further. We'll start betting after the flop."

"Which is..." I raise a brow.

Santana patiently explains the rules to me, and writes down the hand ranking, making sure I understand the significance of being connected, suited, and paired. She shows me the hand rankings on Google, to show me she's not cheating. Not that I would have doubted her.

"Okay but I want to start betting after the river."

Santana smiles. "Okay. But it'll cost you."

"What?"

"A peck on the cheek"

With a frustrated sigh, knowing I'm meant to be entertaining her tonight anyway, I lean over the table to kiss her, but she's already standing. "No, Blondie, I get to kiss you."

"Oh," I blush, standing there waiting for her to kiss me. I wonder whether she can hear my heart pounding in my chest.

Santana leans in, gently grazing her soft lips against my cheek. I moan, turning my head to meet her mouth with my own. But she's sitting back in her seat, acting like she did not notice. "You smell good, Q." I don't answer.

Santana shuffles and deals our pocket cards. Then she burns cards between the flop, the turn, and the river.

"Five on the board. Two in our hands. I'll start the betting. If you're scared, just fold, Q."

I peek at the cards in my hand, check the board, and then look at Santana's ranking sheet. I have a flush! A flush is when you have 5 cards of the same suit.

"I'm in for one piece of clothing," Santana announces, slipping off her shirt, and laying it on the table.

"What happens if I want to raise?" I ask.

"If you bet, I can fold, call, or bet," Santana says, explaining the differences between the moves.

"So, if I raise, you lose your shirt?"

"If you bet, and I fold, then yes. I lose my shirt."

"I raise!" I say, smiling, slipping my cardigan off, and putting it on the table. Santana looks at me, expectantly.

"What?" I ask.

"Q, when you bet, you have to put at least one more piece of clothing on the table, than the current bet."

"But..."

"If you want to go, 'all in,' then you don't have to get naked, unless you lose," she concedes.

I start to doubt my hand. It's a really good hand. But I don't want to be naked after one round. What if Santana has one of those royal thingies.

"I raise one," I smile, standing up to unzip my dress and tossing it on the table.

"You bet one, and I bet one," Santana smirks, adding her pants and her tank to the pot.

I chew on my lip. I want to beat her so bad.

"I... I fold." I pout.

Santana puts her own clothing back on, and folds mine neatly on the chair next to her.

She deals again.

I can't believe it. I have another flush. I should be able to win some of my clothes back.

I put my tank on the table.

"I call," Santana says, putting my pants on the table, and turns over her cards. "I have 2 pair, can you beat that, Q?"

"Yes!" I flip over my cards, and show her my flush.

"Good hand, Q."

"Thanks." I put my dress back on. Now I just have to win back my cardigan.

My next hand is three of a kind. I notice that beat the two pair Santana had played. But I don't want to be tricked into losing more clothes like I did the first hand. So I fold again.

Hand four, I have another flush. I know the odds of getting three flushes in four hands are astonishingly small. So I decide to play Santana.

Santana tosses my cardigan, her shirt, and her pants on the table. Three items.

I smirk. I know you shouldn't do that, in poker. I want to go, "all in," but I don't think it would be such a wise idea with Santana being so close to what could be a naked me. So I toss in four items, which means I'm betting one. I only have my panties on.

Santana looks at me predatorily, hungrily eye-fucking me for a fraction of a second, so I hug my arms across my chest. I can feel my nipples harden, and my panties getting strangely uncomfortable. I squirm, blushing bright red, and my tummy muscles flutter. I know this feeling, even though it has been a long long time since I've felt it; even though it was only that one night, with Santana. If I have to put a pair of soiled panties on the table, I just know I will die.

Santana studies me. Maybe I'm fooling her into thinking I have a weak hand. Maybe I can win most of my clothes back.

Her eyes narrow, studying mine. "I call," she says, her eyes softening, as she puts her tank on the table. I swallow thickly. Santana looks so good in her underwear.

She sits back down, and we both flip over our pocket cards. I automatically reach for my clothing with trembling hands, assuming I've won.

"Wait a second, Little Q. Look at my hand."

My heart skips a beat.

"But I have 5 cards in the same suit, San. Don't I win?"

"You're right; you do. And a flush is a great hand, Q. But I have a full house."

I look at the ranking sheet and pout. I pull out my phone, and double check. She's right. I watch as she puts her clothing back on, and proceeds to fold everything but my panties, putting my clothes on the chair next to her.

I can feel my cheeks burning hot. They must be bright red. My body's remembering what happened the last time I was dressed so scantily with the Santana and it's responding just as it did that night. It's traitorously giving me away. And that same empty feeling begins to eat at me again—the feeling of inadequacy, not being good enough for Santana… I wonder if I'll ever be good enough for Santana.

Isn't it strange that I should feel like I'm betraying Santana whenever I'm with Puck? Especially when Santana and I are nothing but a two-time thing?

"Q? You okay?" I look up to discover Santana's eyes on me.

I nod, trying to focus on the game. To even play a hand, I will have to put my stained panties on the table. I can feel my lower lip trembling, and I bite it.

Four rounds into the game, and I've been stripped bare of everything except my panties. I hug my knees to my chest as I play, in a sorry attempt to hide my nakedness and save some of my dignity.

I feel embarrassed to be so scantily dressed, and if anything, that's only hindering my thinking process, making me even more vulnerable in the game.

"I don't wanna play anymore," I whimper, cards in hand. I stare at them like I can see through them. The room is getting a little cold, and that isn't really helping me.

A fully-dressed Santana watches me in amusement, cocking her head to the side, "It's fun, though."

"For you, maybe, but not for me," I croak hoarsely, my throat running dry.

A soft chuckle sounds from Santana's throat and she stands up. I don't turn my head to let myself follow her movements. I'm working too hard at remaining stoic. I wanted to cheer her up; now I'm just trying not to cry.

Moments later, I hear a wooden door creak open and then creak shut. Santana's footsteps are muted across the carpeted floor, but I can somehow feel her presence behind me.

Soft cotton falls around my shoulders, warming me almost instantly, and then Santana whispers in my ear, "Don't worry. Just playing with you. Let's go watch a movie."

I look up to her almost in disbelief. Surely, Santana Lopez would not let her go so easily.

"What's the catch?" I whimper back, hating myself for being so weak.

"Well…" a sly smile slips across Santana's face, "All you're allowed to wear tonight are your panties and this bathrobe."

"Oh screw it," I breathe, "I'm allowed to tie this thing up, right?" I unfurl myself from my position and stand up, quickly pulling the ensemble together and tightening the knot, "What movie do you want to watch?"

"A lesbian one." She murmurs as she takes her bra off, giving me the wondrous view of her full breasts. Of course, we're getting into bed. She usually sleeps naked, but only mostly naked tonight, I think. I hope.

"Figures." I reach for the remote control, "You have to pay for the movies you pick off their list, you know?"

"Let's find a good movie that's worth paying for then," she grabs the remote from me and leads me to the bed. I climb under the covers within seconds, still trying to get as many layers on me as possible. Sadly, I've forgotten that she can climb under the covers too. I feel a cold hand on my thigh as she flips through the list.

"Oooh, porn. Let's watch some of that, just to see you blush and squirm!"

"Santana!"

"Kidding," she scrolls on, "Damn, they don't have much good stuff here, do they?" She frowns, and I watch her frown, curiosity making me lean a little closer to her. "Oh! This one! Imagine Me and You!"

She presses the 'pay' button before I have a chance to argue, and turns out the lights in the room with the switches beside the bed. I feel her move a little closer towards me, draping an arm behind me. I'm glad she's taken the hand off my thigh.

That spot still tingles.

I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. My panties are too wet, too uncomfortable, and I don't want them on anymore. A daring move, but a needed one, nonetheless.

"Cue it up; I'll be right back," I call over my shoulder. Carefully shutting the door behind me, I slip off my panties, hiding them between the stacked up towels, hoping Santana won't pull from the bottom of the pile if she showers.

I flush the toilet and then wash my hands. Wiping them on the hand towel, I twist open the doorknob, heading back towards the bed. Once I slip under the covers, the screen flickers to life.

We watch in silence. I'm not too comfortable with this whole notion of 'watching a lesbian movie', even though thankfully it lacks the sex scenes, but I don't really want to deny Santana of this. I don't want her to take it the wrong way, that I don't accept her the way she is, because I do.

As we reach the part about the dropped ring (which is actually pretty much in the beginning), though, I somewhat grudgingly begin to feel a little more interested in the movie. Subconsciously, I lean my head on Santana's shoulder, my eyes glued to the flickering screen. From the corner of my eye, I seem to notice how Santana turns her head to look at me briefly, but I soon forget about the weird feeling in my stomach as the movie intensifies.

I watch confessions come and go, fears chased and faced.

What I didn't notice, though, was the way Santana had stopped watching the movie, and had started watching me.

Just as Rachel and Luce run towards each other for the last time, I happen to turn my head, hoping to see a rare thread of Santana's emotions, only to find her lips two inches from mine.

I freeze.

Suddenly, the music seems to drown out as the credits rolling meaninglessly on the screen. I feel a hand on the back of my head, holding me in place. Santana leans closer, her eyes filled with a strange longing and lost in my own. She must have forgotten I'm the one who is watching the movie with her.

"Hey," I whisper in the softest of the soft, my voice trickling over her ears like dew running through a leaf, "why are you kissing me?"

I sense hesitation for a moment, before Santana cracks a small smile, "You aren't stopping me."

"I have a boyfriend."

"I know."

"Santana…"

"Quinn…"

Before I can utter another word, I feel her soft lips on mine. Instinctively, I close my eyes, almost wanting more. But heaven lasts moments too short, and as suddenly as she had come, she was gone. When I open my eyes again, I find myself staring at the back of Santana, who has gotten out of bed.

"I'm gonna wash up before I sleep," she explains, almost as though nothing has happened.

I nod mutely, although I realize that she cannot see me.

I'm confused, though. Why didn't I stop her? It would have been the most natural of things to do.

—

"Good morning, babe!" Puck pulls me in by the waist for a kiss, but I turn my head last minute so it lands on my cheek. Something in me makes me want to savor the taste of her lips, even though it was nothing but a mere peck. I wish I could say it was a drunken peck.

I catch Santana smiling to herself…

"Morning, " I mumble, trying to rid myself of his hold after a quick kiss on his cheek. He hasn't shaved well and it prickles."Out for breakfast?"

"Yep. Rachel says there's a new bistro at the end of the street. We should all go check it out!"

As if on cue, Rachel Berry walks out of her partitioned room, "Good morning, Quinn! Hi, Santana! This bistro is really good! I don't quite remember the name of it, but its breakfasts! Dear God, it's been a while since I had such a delightful breakfast!" She hugs me briefly and turns around with a smile, "Kurt! Oh Kurttt! We're heading out, and I don't want to go into your room because I know Blaine stayed over last night!"

A sheepish looking Kurt peeks out from behind the curtain, "Give us 10. You guys go down first!"

"No quickies in the public areas! Keep it in your room!" I hear Santana mutter as she takes my arm, "Come on, let's go."

"Wait! Puck and Rachel!"

"They know the way themselves."

With that, Santana drags me straight out of the loft and onto the streets.

There's something about that hold she has on me, that firm grip. Where her fingers touch my skin burns. And it's a strangely pleasant burn, too.

Also strangely enough, I woke up next to Santana this morning but felt so natural. No awkwardness, no nothing. I mean, we were fully clothed, so that probably made it way less weird, but it was still… interesting how I felt as though nothing had changed, and nothing had been exchange; some unspoken emotion, through a kiss. I'd nuzzled into her neck in my half-sleep state. It felt good, beautiful even. I felt like I was finally home.

I shake my thoughts free as Santana pushes open a glass door and sits me down in a small booth.

"I need to sit beside Puck," I whisper as she takes a seat beside me. She simply points to the other side of me, where an empty chair stands.

Puck and Rachel come tumbling through the door. Rachel has her sunglasses on, and Puck is silent. He takes his seat beside me like it's his duty, and Rachel sits across him.

"So, what would you like to eat, Quinn?" Rachel passes me a menu, or rather, shoves it into my hands before I can react. While I am partially thankful for her enthusiasm, it is wearing me down a little.

"What do you want, Puck?" I move the menu towards him, sharing it as my eyes scan through the words. They're not really registering though, because of a hand that has found it's way onto my lap.

I shift uncomfortably in my chair, trying to ignore the tingling sensation that courses throughout me as Santana's fingers draw circles on my skin. Even through the dress, her touch is…

"I'll take an English Breakfast," Puck smiles, setting down the menu, "And Quinn will take…"

"The Bacon Special," Santana finishes for Puck, and I feel myself blushing, feeling special that Santana remembers things that I like.

Emotions play tricks on me on days that I don't have enough sleep.

A brief silence showers the table.

"And you, Santana?" Rachel asks with a cock of her head just as Kurt and Blaine walk through the doors, "Oh, hey! What are you two eating this morning?"

As soon as we order, Rachel strikes up a conversation. I'm there, listening, but not really. I laugh when the others laugh, nod when a question is directed at me. I'm fully distracted though, with my elbows resting on the edge of the table. Puck has his arm on the back of my chair, but Santana has her hand just on the hem of my skirt.

It's not that I feel uncomfortable. If I did, I would have long since swatted her hand away. I feel a little shy, that's all. Especially since I am suddenly reminded that I'm wearing a pair of Santana's panties…

A waitress arrives with trays full of food, and set the plates down one by one. I smile at the steaming plate of bacon, which looks oh so very delicious.

"Eat up!" I hear Rachel say as she picks up a fork. I do the same, and while the other's talk, I tune out, smiling politely still.

Santana's hand is moving upwards. I kick her under the table, and the hand moves away instantly.

"So what did you two lovelies do last night?" Rachel smiles brightly at us, almost too bright for a morning like this. Then again, she's Rachel Berry.

"We had hot lesbian sex without you, Berry," Santana mutters between bites.

"Hot damn!"

All our heads turn to Puck as he utters the two syllables. Raw shock.

"Excuse me?" I turn my head back to Santana, "We did not have sex!"

"Teasing," she shrugs, resuming her eating.

Again, I turn to Puck, my eyes narrowing, "So you like the idea of Santana and I… doing it?"

He shrugs, a disgusting smirk crossing his face, "Yeah, been my high school fantasy. You two should totally have told me last night if you actually did it… I'd have taken you two in for a threesome. For free, unlike the two I had last night—"

"Shut it!" Rachel looks strangely mad, her face reddening. The words sink in in the silence. Threesome. The two last night. Paid. Wow.

Somehow, I'm not as surprised as I ought to be. I don't hurt. Instead, I find myself strangely empowered that I have the full right now to deny Puck.

I don't say a word, picking up my fork to eat. I feel strangely full although I've just barely touched anything on my plate.

The rest of the meal continues in some awkward conversations and pseudo interest on all of our behalves. It's honestly boring, and everyone seems tense, trying to mask the confession earlier.

When Rachel decides over our mostly empty plates that it's finally time to get out, I'm more than thankful.

"Where will you be going today, babe?" Puck just has to wrap his arm around my waist and pull me in for a kiss on the forehead. After his comment about Santana… I feel absolutely disgusted.

"Out with Santana again?" I murmur, pulling myself away, "Not your babe."

"Mm, make sure you moan loud and clear for her, alright? I love you, baby mama." That prick, acting like nothing happened at all.

I shrug, prying myself from his fingers, "See you."

"Ohmigod!" Rachel's eyes suddenly grow wide and I realize she has been watching our interactions all along, seeming to have forgotten Puck's outburst from earlier. "This is the classic Quinn Fabray! The moment that someone you like is available, you go cold on your boyfriend, just like you did with Sam and Finn-and oh my!" I dread the words that prepare to fall unceremoniously out of her mouth, "Do you like Santana that way?"

I open my mouth to say a quick 'no', but nothing comes out. Strange.

Puck looks at me expectantly. Santana looks at me expectantly, too. What am I supposed to answer? "I…" Here's one of those moments when I want to pull one a'look, there's a bird!' or 'look, there's Barbara Streisand!'

Rachel narrows her eyes. Damn it. I look to Santana for an answer, only to find her looking away. I look to Puck, only to see him raising his eyebrow in amusement and mockery.

"I think… I might…?"

"I knew it!" Rachel exclaims, dramatically throwing her hands in the air as Kurt tries to drag her out of the cafe so we aren't the center of attention, "I knew Biff was a beard!"

"What?"

"Biff was a beard and now Puck too! I thought it was fishy that you said yes to him so quickly last time at the Glee reunion!"

I find myself frozen into spot on the sidewalk just outside the cafe. To say we aren't causing a scene is a lie. A few people have stopped to stare and listen. This is just embarrassing.

"See? You don not even have anything to say for yourself in defense! I knew it! You've liked Santana all these years! You are so much further from the good little Christian girl you always showed yourself to be!"

"Why do you care?" I blurt out, "It's not like you ought to! Unless… Unless you like Santana, too!" What on this entire earth am I saying?

"I…" Rachel never finishes her sentence, stomping off angrily and hailing a cab.

Kurt and Blaine are nowhere to be seen. Just Puck, Santana, and I.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I turn to find Santana looking straight at me. "Quinn, do you like me?"

I feel like crying so I bite my lower lip to try to stop. First I'm practically outed to my circle of 'friends' and very much so to myself, and now the possible object of my affection is asking me such an unanswerable question in front of my supposed boyfriend.

Santana watches me in silence. I know she wants an answer, but I'm simply too afraid to give it. To my surprise, she draws me in for a hug, holding me close and stroking her fingers through my hair. "Shh, it's alright to like me."

Puck stands by idly, uncertain of what to do.

"I do," I whisper, just loud enough for them both to hear. I squeeze my eyes shut, letting tears stream down my cheeks.

Santana does make any mean remark. In fact, she doesn't make a single sound. She just stands there, holding me, letting me hold her back, and letting me cry.

I'm just starting to come to terms with this part of me. Making love to her is one thing. Loving her, quite another. But isn't this… oddly what I've always wanted?

I feel weak when I pull away, but still somewhat empowered. "What next?" I whisper, barely registering that Puck has disappeared without a trace. I wonder if he's angry. Or horny. Probably the latter.

"Well…" Santana smiles softly at me, tucking stray strands of my hair from my face, and then wiping the remainder of the tears off my cheek, "Well you could walk out first or… we could make us a two time thing?"

Finding a small shy smile on myself, I reach up to take Santana's hand in my own, "I'm uncertain… and you're… healing? But maybe… just maybe this is worth a try."

"Hey, think you can pull an all-nighter with me tonight back at the hotel?"

Instantly, I turn a shade redder.

"No, silly. Movies and cuddling. Spending time together. Not…" Santana grins at me, making my heart skip a beat.

I feel her fingers slip into mine, and I find myself smiling a little brighter. "I missed you."

She smiles at me, leading me down the sidewalk, "I missed you, too."

And with that, she brings my hand up to her lips, kissing the back of my hand softly. Feeling a little giddy, I find myself feeling as though I'm finally turning over a new page in life—one that I don't dread reading.

prompt (word for word quoted~):

Everything is canon.
So the prompt is this,
When santana is finally single, quinn finds herself being distant/cold towards puck. The weekend she goes to new york after a call from rachel asking herself to help her cheer up santana is where she realizes she has this urge to be /with/ santana every time san is single.

Bonus points if rachel has this line:
This is the classic quinn fabray! The moment that someone you like is available, you go cold on your boyfriend, just like with sam and finn-and oh my god! Do you like santana that way?

extra bonus points if ^line is said after Puck says I love you to Quinn and Quinn just smiles and say See you later or anything other than I love you too.

Extra bonus points if at first, rachel tries to hook up santana (or with santana) and quinn immediately sabotages her plan saying rachel doesn't know santana's taste (but really she's just jealous, esp if the girl(or rachel) is in fact santanas type)