"What are you doing here?" were the first things Santana said when she spotted Quinn leaning against her gleaming car door. It did not take long for her eyes to narrow when she saw that her girlfriend was alone, unaccompanied.

"Where's that fat son of a bitch Tanaka? Why are you alone?"

"How about you kiss me first. Only then will I spill all my dirty secrets." Quinn teased, puckering up her lips for effect. Naturally, Santana responded with an eye roll but Quinn was pleasantly surprised when she acquiesced to her request, and all the more pleased at the dimple that winked at her from under a smile. "Feel better?"

"Oh. Was that the intended effect? Let me try again." She leaned forward to meet Quinn's lips for a second time. This time, she lingered before pulling away. "Ok. I think that did the trick. Now spill. Where's Tanaka?"

Quinn chuckled and gestured for Santana to get into the car. One thing her girlfriend was definitely not was someone easy to distract. "He's not that irresponsible. He accompanied me here then went into HQ. Said he was meeting a colleague for dinner." She ignored the irritated huff and whispered string of curses. "We both figured the killer's not so big of a whack job as to kidnap me right outside NYPD HQ."

Now the annoyed eyes turned to her. "Ever heard of never say never?"

Quinn grimaced. "Yeah. I got to say I'm not a big fan of Bieber. What do his fans call him? The Biebs."

"What? No. That's not what I meant. Are you being exasperating on purpose?"

"That depends. Am I winning?"

Santana huffed out a laugh. "I'm serious Quinn. You've got to be careful."

"Santana, I am being careful, but I can't let this threat run my life. I've still got to run my business. How else am I going to keep you? You don't strike me as the low maintenance type."

Santana laughed again. "Bitch."

"Tell me I'm wrong."

"We both know I'm not a liar." Even as she said it, her stomach rolled.

"True. Look, we're at a red light."

Santana look at her quizzically, "Good that you know your colours?"

What she got back in return was a sympathetic pat on the cheek. Then she lost her breath when the same hand went to the back of her neck and Quinn's lips covered hers.

They only drew back when an obnoxious horn let them know the light was green again. "That wasn't so hard was it Lopez? I know there is romance in there somewhere."

Santana chuckled breathily before she remembered what she was supposed to confess. "I hate to break the moment but.."

"Uhoh," Quinn turned concerned eyes at her, "Should I be worried?"

She chose not to answer directly. "I just had a press conference to answer the media's questions on the case. They've been hounding us for a long time."

"Okayyy, but what made you cave in?"

"Erm. We searched a suspect's house to –-" She broke off and turned her body to face Quinn, "Look Quinn. This is wholly confidential all right. Everything I say here cannot be leaked to anyone, not even Rachel."

"Hey hey, of course. Do you need me to stop the car?"

"That may be safer."

Santana waited till Quinn had pulled the car over at a curb before she continued. "I.. I'm not a liar."

"I know that Santana. You can trust me."

"Can I?" Santana shot back, instantly regretting it when she saw the hurt on Quinn's face. She immediately retracted, reaching out to take Quinn's hands. It was still too early, too soon. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. That just came out."

"I deserve that."

"No. We've agreed to put it behind us but here's the thing. I spoke to the department's profiler and we agreed that this guy, this psycho has a complex. He thinks females as property. Specifically, he wants to collect white women. He objectifies parts of them. I know it's sick." She added when she saw the revolted look grace Quinn's features. She was appreciative that Quinn did not interrupt despite that. She merely listened and nodded to show she was doing so. "We got a warrant for a search today. I'm sure we have the guy but I don't have enough proof! And he was so mad and so smug that he would be getting away with it."

Here, Quinn finally said something, "So you called the press conference to bait him." Hazel eyes bored into hers.

Santana gulped. Here it was. What had made Quinn walk away before, "Yes. And I'm sorry I didn't let you know earlier or discuss the matter with you. But I have to admit I'm not sorry I did it. It's the only way."

There were a few moments of silence. The only consolation was that Quinn's hands remained on her; she had not pulled away. Finally, she looked back at Santana and squeezed her hands in assurance, "Ok. If you think it's the only way."

She was sad to see Santana blink in surprise. "You're taking this better than I thought you would."

"I don't make the same mistake twice Detective. And, I trust you. If you think it's the only way, it is. I don't date idiots and you would be an idiot to put yourself in danger unnecessarily, especially when the stakes are so high. Now, what's for dinner?"

"That's it?" Santana gaped at her, shooting out a hand to stop her from releasing the handbrake.

Quinn's brows quirked up, "Do you want a fight?"

"What? Of course not! But you're not mad?"

"No Santana," Quinn said patiently, cupping Santana's face in her hands and pecking her lips. "You're obviously competent at your job and I trust you. You have to be very, very careful of course but I'm not going to nag you like you nag me. Now can we please go for dinner because it's 8pm and I'm starving and I don't think food is going to be the only sustenance I need if you get my drift?" Her smile widened when her meaning dawned on Santana.

"I really, really like you right now. And I very rarely misuse my authority but I'm going to allow you to speed just this once."

"Oh?" Quinn threw a seductive look over her shoulder, released the handbrake and very deliberately pressed her foot down on the accelerator. "Then I must most definitely make use of this rare moment of weakness. In. Every. Way."

"This is a completely ridiculous game," Santana huffed, hands on hip as she blew a lock of wayward hair out of her face.

"Come on. You lose, now you have to pay the price. It's part of the game," her girlfriend urged from the opposite end of the foosball table, a cocky grin plastered over her face.

"The forfeit is why it's a stupid game," Santana repeated, "I quit."

"Uh uh, can't do. You have to play it through. You agreed to the terms," Quinn crossed her arms over her chest and gave her a stern stare.

"That makes me stupid," she sulked, wondering how she had been convinced to play this dumb game.

It was just past 11pm and they really should be getting ready for bed, especially after everything that had been going on. But somehow, Quinn had come across the foosball table that Brittany had so kindly purchased for her guards, or "her boys" as she had taken to calling them, and convinced her to drag it into their now temporarily shared bedroom. She had very quickly agreed to Quinn's ingenious idea of playing foosball. To be exact, strip foosball. With every match lost, the loser had to remove a piece of clothing. Of course she had agreed. She was good at foosball, she wanted to see Quinn naked, didn't she? How should she have known Quinn was an expert at the game. Within a humiliating ten minutes, she had lost her earrings, necklace, ring, watch, her outer shirt, her tank top and her jeans. Quinn still had her full set on.

"Why are you so good at this game?"

"Top or bottom?" Quinn wriggled her eyebrows as she leaned over the table on her elbows, her expression smug.

Santana fumed, chose neither and dragged the rubber band off her hair, tossing it onto the neat pile of clothes at her feet.

"Do you want to put on some hair clips too? Maybe some fake nails?" Quinn asked, one eyebrow cocked as she looked down at the pouting mess of her girlfriend. Who knew Santana would be such a sore loser. Luckily for her, Quinn found it all rather adorable.

"Don't be snide," Santana tossed back, shaking her hair back, out of her vision, "You could have worn more."

"Doesn't look like I need it, do I?" Quinn gestured to her fully clad self in one of Santana's NYPD t-shirts and a pair of shorts.

Santana scowled right back at her. She didn't mind losing. She wasn't a sore loser. What she did mind was being thrashed. It was embarrassing. It was humiliating. What she would give to get even one point, she frowned then beamed suddenly when an idea came to her.

She straightened, tossed her hair back and gave Quinn a stunning smile as she rolled the white ball between fingers strategically placed between her breasts. Curving her lips to one side, she kissed the ball before slipping it into the serving hole at the side of the table, hiding the grin that had bloomed onto her face at Quinn's reaction. She had seen her swallow, heard her clear her throat as she flipped the pole to send the ball into a spin across the table - a spin she should have been able to easily defend had she not been distracted. Santana gave a loud whoop when the ball shot into the goal.

"Score! Let me help you with this," Santana flounced over to help Quinn with her t-shirt. As she did, she made sure her fingers skimmed over the sides of Quinn's torso, up over her chest as she lifted the fabric up to her head. Beneath her fingers, she felt Quinn's muscles twitch, her blood warm.

When Quinn slapped Santana's hands away, she laughed, "I can do it. Stop cheating," Quinn complained and pushed her lightly away, tugging her t-shirt over her head and tossing it on the bed. Still, Santana could see she was unnerved and aroused.

Santana made sure she gave Quinn's ass a nice squeeze before she returned to her side of the table, "Your ball," she reminded her girlfriend in a lusty voice when she merely stared at her.

"Of course," Quinn cleared her throat again then narrowed her eyes at Santana when she laughed.

Her ball went wild, ricocheted off the side of the table, and was sent flying straight into the kicking legs of Santana's defender, where it shot straight into Quinn's net again.

She cheered wildly, while Quinn moaned in dismay, "Not again! You keep away from me Lopez," she warned when Santana sauntered up to her. Still, Quinn's arms came up to wrap around her body and her lips were ready to meet the hot mouth that covered hers. Santana's finger were already working on the button of her shorts, "Let me help you."

All thoughts of the game evaporated. All they could see and think of was each other. The need for each other was tangible, ripe and had to be met. Equally eager and breathless, Quinn gripped Santana's wrists and rolled to reverse their positions. Her mouth came down on Santana's, hot and possessive. Her tongue demanded entry and was immediately granted access. Underneath Quinn, Santana dragged her shorts off with urgent, impatient hands. "I have no idea how you managed to hold out for so long. I thought I look hot."

Quinn chuckled, nipping at her neck and her ears, "Don't worry you do. I just have very good self-control."

She let out a little squeal when Santana gripped her waist with her legs and flipped them, "Is that a challenge?" Open mouth kisses attacked her neck and made their way down her body. She was on fire with Santana's clever fingers running all over her body, touching, mapping, giving.

"I don't mind testing that out," she gasped out. Her body bucked and her eyes clouded with pleasure, with affection as skilled fingers slid over and into her, sending her spinning into the edge of ecstasy. When she came, it was with Santana's name on her lips.