A/N: So, I was bored and this happened. I blame alicia-meade for getting me hooked up in this unlikely ship with her awesome fics, and my just how much I miss Santana in my life. This piece was not proofed by my great beta, so I apologize in advance for the poor grammar and possible word confusion.

This fic is a two-part. The other chapter is currently ion the works and it should be posted soon. This first chapter has some wanky bits. Just warning people.

Chapter 1 - Is It Thrillin?

Shelby pulled on her plum wool coat to try to protect herself from the strong wind as she walked down the street with two of her colleagues. Aiden and Eric had insisted on a little out, with some wine and good music, and she had stalled but not really gotten away with it. Considering she was the only mom on the whole crew of their in-progress musical, she didn't get to participate in 10% of their little gatherings. However, they hung out to drink so much, 10% was still a lot. She didn't feel that young anymore. But then again, neither were Aiden or Eric, and that was the only reason why she had allowed them to drag her to this little club that had just opened in Soho.

After the whole debacle with Quinn, Puck and losing her job, even if her reputation remained suspiciously intact, Shelby had decided to leave Lima. For good. She had made sure Rachel had all of her contacts and begged her kid to let her know as soon as she heard back from NYADA and Tisch, or if she needed anything before then. Rachel had already known at the time about her indiscretion with Puck, but her only reaction, thankfully, had been "This is so gross, and I don't want details. Ever."

Other than Rachel though, she hadn't really talked to anyone about leaving. She had ignored Puck's thirty-seven calls, packed a bag and spent some time at her sister's house in North Dakota, thinking about her life. She had made some contacts with people back in New York and in the Show Choir circuit. She had been clueless about how to move on with her life, but she both didn't want to set a foot in a high-school ever again and she felt like performing was behind her, so she was just throwing some feelers to see what was out there.

It had taken a couple of months before she had gotten the call. Aiden and she had been friends for decades. He had dated her roommate in college, and despite the fact that it had ended up badly and she was good friends with the girl, Aiden had remained in her orbit somehow. He was kind of a dick, but a funny one. Also, he had grown into a generous friend, not that he would ever admit liking other human beings. He had helped her get odd jobs the first time she had moved to New York with Beth, and had let her crash in his brownstone on the Upper West Side because he had been on an inspiration tour around Asia.

But then he got back and he had been investing his time on an original musical that had really great music, but a shaky and sort of green cast and though he was betting on these kids, he wanted her alleged talent for squeezing-impossible-notes-in-the-middles-of-risqué-dance-moves-out-of-people playing on his favor. She could occupy one of his rooms while she looked for a suitable apartment, and he had been offering a nice paycheck, so Shelby hadn't really mulled over it much before signing on and taking her daughter back to the city.

And she hadn't regretted that decision. Aiden's musical had thankfully been a success, and after that, she had managed to find some work as a stage manager on Broadway and well, off too. But mostly, she had been the leading vocal prep on most of Aiden's endeavors, including his Tony winning revivals of Caroussel and Guys and Dolls. They were friends and he was generous, so her contracts with him usually included a small percentage over the show's profits, which kept her well off.

She had initially settled into a small apartment in Brooklyn, but she had been aware that finding the perfect real state in Manhattan could take years, and indeed, it had. She had searched by herself and with the tips from friends, but nothing was what she had desired. Her luck only changed when one of the stars she had worked with on a Sunset Boulevard revival moved to LA after her pilot got ordered into a TV Series.

Shelby had been her almost exclusive vocal coach for months, and they became sort of close, to the point that when the woman had scored a Tony, Shelby's name had been dropped at the acceptance speech. Also, Beth was only a toddler back then, and she was so quiet and easily distracted by her coloring books and Lego, that Shelby would always take her into work. The actress was fond of her little one, and they had ended up talking a lot about adoption and raising a child as a single mother on their free time. When she had decided she was going to move back to the West Coast, and stay there for a while, she had offered Shelby her place.

Shelby was in real estate heaven. An incredibly spacious, three bedroom apartment in the Meatpacking district just didn't fall into most people's lap. And they were appallingly expensive. But the owner was a high-powered producer who had entertained a relationship with the actress. Shelby had been nerve-wracked going into lunch with him, desperately clinging to his apartment, but aware that depending on how much he set the rent, she couldn't choose to live there and feed her child.

Turned out he wanted a really high amount for the place, but he also had a 13 year-old aspiring Justin Bieber at home, and with a recent Tony winner recommending her greatly, she had been able to shove off the price tremendously just by committing to weekly private lessons for his boy.

Her apartment was a dream come true and she had been able to enroll Beth on William T Harris School, which was a wonderful little find that kept her from going bankrupt on the tuition of the private schools she had considered at first. Beth had adapted to kindergarten really well and had just started first grade that year. Her little girl was so excited about 'grown up school', her new soccer team and all of her friends. It seemed silly, but seeing Beth so happy made Shelby super giddy and made her ever the more grateful. For the first couple of years after adopting her daughter, Shelby had felt adrift.

She had struggled to reconcile her new role as a mother with her professional persona, and find a new career she felt passionate about, but that was still right for her kid. The first time she had lived in New York had been disappointing and deeply wounding for her. She had slaved herself in various Chorus for years until casting directors started telling her she was too old even to blend into the background. The second time, she had been confused and overwhelmed, and when she hadn't been home with a crying baby, she just wanted to go home to her crying baby. It felt amazing that this third time, everything had clicked. She had met all the right people, gotten all the right jobs, made a proper living and managed a balanced routine for a change. She was effectively on cloud nine.

It had been a while since she had worked with Aiden too. He had directed an astonishingly good and strikingly successful motion picture adaption of Starlight Express, before reaping his renewed street cred with another risky original musical. Eric was the genius behind the idea of taking the dramatic play Dark of the Moon and turning into a musical and their lyricist. She had raised an eyebrow once Aiden had emailed her this new adventure of his, but once she got to meet Eric, look at the material and hear the music, she had been hooked. It was kind of dark and the music was haunting, and they were definitively looking at a very adult public, which made their financial prospects a bit worrisome, but she was proud to be involved in this workshop and she hoped they managed to see it through to Broadway.

Eric put a hand on her back once they reached the discreet entrance of the club, and gently led her inside. Aiden had walked in first, and he was already by the bar talking to someone; by the time they reached him, they were all guided to a spacious booth on a corner.

Shelby took a minute to scrutinize the place while she shed her coat, gloves and pashmina. It was cozy and pleasant. The couches were of plush leather, the wood that comprised the tables and adorned the whole place seemed very rich, and the decoration in reddish-dark tones managed to not look cheap. Nobody was smoking inside, people sipped their drinks and talked quietly and a very impressive jazz band kicked a cool version of Sing, Sing, Sing.

Aiden ordered his usual Scotch and Eric accompanied him, but she insisted on playing it safe and getting a cool glass of Chardonnay and they shared some appetizers to make up for the fact that they had all worked past dinner and were starving.

The song had just ended and there was a bit of silence before the band started playing the first notes of I Put a Spell on You. She had to lean over to try and hear what Aiden was saying to her, something about how the band was all so young and she nodded, agreeing.

She turned around just as the first words were sung, and froze. There, on the small stage, stood none other than Santana Lopez. She looked different from the last time Shelby had been with her. Not in appearance; other than the fact her hair was now shoulder length and a bit lighter, she looked about the same. But the way she carried herself was completely transformed.

Gone was the defensive, self-conscious girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders. This woman in front of her was comfortable, even free. Her sultriness was real, and her dark eyes invited you in, and not to be murdered either. She knew she had barely done her job for this girl, and she had bailed so fast after her Glee Club lost Sectionals that she had no right, but she felt sort of proud. It gave her a warm feeling inside, this tender contentment she usually only felt for Beth and Rachel spreading to her core, to see this improved Santana. She couldn't help the affectionate smile that crept on her face.

Santana finished the song and seemed satisfied with the deserved attention she got. She quickly scanned the club and then finally, met her eyes. Shelby wasn't sure if the girl was happy to see her at all, but there was a glint in her former pupil's eyes that made it evident she felt something. Shelby felt her stomach twist a bit and took a sip of her wine, sure that facing someone she had coached for three months six years ago shouldn't make her so uneasy.

Shelby would be lying if she ever said that she didn't need people to like her, but her apprehension for the fact that this girl may very well resent her for not coming through to her and then skipping town without a glance back was a bit overblown. She deserved anger for being so flighty back in the day, but she was also deeply sorry for not being a better educator those few months she stayed in McKinley. That was just not her usual self. She had always been fiercely dedicated to whomever she was coaching, and nothing made her more bashful than doing a piss poor job and letting people down.

She observed Santana whisper something to her band mates and then turn around, and start swaying her hips as another Nina Simone song was initiated.

Do I move you, is it thrillin

Do I groove you, are you willin'

Shelby felt, rather than heard the velvety words reach her and caress her, Santana staring her down the whole time in a way that wasn't exactly threatening. It was actually kind of flirty, and Shelby allowed herself to relax and dive into the song. Some of the other patrons had turned to find out who Santana was looking at, but Shelby only realized it once the song was over and their eye contact was broken, and, well, she couldn't keep herself from flushing.

Aiden had pulled her closer and whispered something dirty on her ear, but she had pushed him away half-way through it and focused on the food that had been put right in front of them while Santana went into a rendition of Melody Gardot's Quiet Fire that Shelby was determined to ignore, despite the burning feeling on the back of her head.

Eric, who was much more circumspect than Aiden, only asked if she knew the girl and faced with Shelby's quiet and curt reply, simply added "Well, she's good."

"And beautiful," Aiden purred in a way that made her a little nauseated. She was tempted to tell Aiden that Santana was a lesbian, but knew she had no right and that the girl probably didn't need Shelby of all people protecting her from gross older men.

She just rolled her eyes and gave her attention back to Eric, with whom she discussed some particulars of the arrangements in a couple of their songs while Santana kept seemingly all the rest of place wrapped around her finger for another half of dozen of songs. Shelby didn't mean to be rude to Eric, but she almost instantaneously zoned out their chat to check the stage and see if Santana was already leaving, which she was, but two seconds later she was perching over their booth.

"Still looking hot, Miss C." Shelby couldn't help but to chuckle and bask on it. Nobody had called her Miss C in a long time, and she missed it.

"Hi, Santana." She complimented lightly, and gestured for the girl to take a seat. Eric excused himself and moved to the other side of the couch, despite both of their protests and Santana introduced herself to the men almost shyly before settling next to her.

Santana couldn't help but to feel both joyful and anxious to have run into Shelby Corcoran of all people, and that in itself was weird. She actually wanted to at least write to Shelby for a while now, but that was a thorny task. She hadn't been left with any of Shelby's contacts when the women had fled Lima, and well, Shelby had been a dinosaur back then and didn't 'do' Facebook. She hadn't been able to figure out how to word to Rachel man-hands Berry that she wanted to reach out to her mother, especially because despite the fact that she had gotten used to Rachel's high-level of annoyance to the point of sort of liking the girl, Rachel was still nosy as hell.

Plus, even if she had figured hot to by-pass Rachel, she wasn't sure she'd been able to start a proper e-mail to Shelby. She felt awkward for even wanting to do it. Honestly, Santana didn't do words well. Unless they were mean words. She was practically the John Keats of insults.

"How have you been, San?" Shelby asked tenderly, and Santana had a very strong rule about not allowing anybody other than Brittany to use pet names for her, but for whatever reason she felt okay with Shelby's move.

"I'm great." Santana answered confidently, because yeah, she was still not rich and definitively not famous right now, so there was a lot of moving up still to be done, but she incidentally liked her current life. She wasn't pretending to be anything she wasn't, she didn't have eyes on the back of her head either fearing or hoping she would break and she had very concrete goals and pretty decent plans to achieve her dreams for a change. "How about you and your boo boo bear?"

Shelby rolled her eyes good naturedly, but Santana knew that her smile had more to do with thoughts of her daughter than with her jab. She still shuddered remembering how Shelby's mama bear side had come out that one day they had Trouble Tones practice at her apartment on a Saturday, and Shelby heard her referring to Beth as the "lizard baby". Now Santana wasn't afraid of many people; she was after all a very scary bitch herself. However, angry Shelby Corcoran was the hurricane Katrina of temper storms, and Santana had felt like all of her coolness was a skinny-assed umbrella.

In the end though, Santana had apologized profusely, explained her sometimes improper sense of humor and she had even been allowed to make it up for it by watching Beth after everyone left while Shelby tidied up her place, which had given her the opportunity to see Shelby baby-talking. She had never let Shelby live that down. She had taken just about every opportunity to tease the older woman, though never in public. Shelby seemed to be aware that she had intimidated her, a lot, when she had lost her head, so she had been gracious about it.

"I'm well, and she's doing amazing, thanks for asking."

"She must be in what, first grade, now?" Shelby seemed surprised at her interest at first, and the scrutiny seemed to make her usual prowess melt into shyness. Santana internally chided herself for being too nosy. "You don't have to answer that. I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's okay…" Shelby shook her head emphatically, but the fact that she also took a very generous sip of her wine told Santana otherwise.

"It's okay to want to protect your privacy and your baby's. I didn't mean to pry."

"San, it's fine." Shelby tried to sooth the younger girl from freaking out about something that was kind of a non-issue, and put a comforting hand on her bare arm. Shelby just wasn't used to letting people get this close to her intimacy, and for a moment she was sitting with a grown woman that was making a not so subtle move on her, and dissociated her from the Santana that was once one of her pupils, and that had already made the trip to the other side of her wall.

"Yes, Beth is in first grade and she's doing really well. She is the most advanced in her class and we even have to do some challenging tasks at home so she won't get bored with her coursework. She's really athletic. She has been swimming since we moved back, and she has a bunch of medals. She also has kind of an aggressive energy, so she's in Karate now, and we're a looking into either Tennis or Fencing for her to try next."

Shelby didn't even realize she let go of herself talking about her daughter; that her eyes were shinning and her hands were moving about. And Santana didn't know that her eyes were gleaming as well, Shelby's passion pulling her in. She had never been into this much expressiveness and openness before. But she had changed and Shelby exuding this much love, this confidently, suddenly made the older woman all the more attractive.

"I would have guessed she had three hour long singing lessons every day," Santana joked, and Shelby chuckled, self-conscious. Santana sat up straighter, alarmed, because she didn't know if she had put her foot in her mouth. Music was Shelby's thing, Quinn's and Puck's were sports. They might have been a part of Glee, but their strongest suit was being jocks.

"She likes music; I mean, how could she not?" Shelby explained quietly. "And she sings. But she has so many interests. And I want her to have it all. I don't want to possibly keep her from finding something that will make her happy."

"Well, you're a great mom." Santana commented softly, and she was glad to genuinely mean it. Puck and Quinn had been her friends, and despite everything, including the fact that she hadn't spoken to either in a while, it was satisfying to know that their kid was with a mother that seemed authentically caring and thoughtful. "And what are you doing now? Still coaching show choir?"

Shelby snorted and quickly shook her head. "I finally moved past that. I should have after I quit Vocal Adrenaline anyways, but I let Al Motta's dollar bills seduce me. I'm actually working on Broadway, mostly. Nothing fancy, I just land a hand to the director and the music team, so they can focus on other things. Like, warming up the cast while they teach the lead a new song or working on songs with specific actors while the rest of the company is being run through something else. I just help people sing the books to the level these guys want them to, and I try to make sure they are ready to project it to the last guy sitting on the last row, with the same power, eight times a week."

"So… an easy job," Santana mocked her lightly; it seemed like a lot of heavy lifting.

Of course Shelby didn't see it that way. When she was at work, she could hardly ever catch a break, but as soon as she stepped outside, everything was left behind. She let her directors, musicians and writers toss around at night with creative decisions, and the producers pan out sixteen hours chasing every technical mishap. It was uplifting.

"It is an easy job, actually. I'm good at it, and I really love every minute of it, so…"

"Well, I'm glad. But I'm also glad you didn't move on towards this right away, and you did get sucked into coaching the Trouble Tones. Because you changed my life."

Santana saw shock and embarrassment cross Shelby's face and was confused. The woman was just playing with her watch and staring at her wine, as if she didn't know how to even respond, which was weird because she had never known Shelby to be timid or modest. Santana, not being exactly restrained herself, reached out to the Shelby's chin and forced the older woman to look up at her.

"You don't have to say that, Santana." Shelby murmured so inaudibly, that with the band still playing in the background, she had to read her lips to understand. Additionally, Shelby's eyes seemed suspiciously moist, which made her scared. Usually she knew exactly what she had said that could have hurt a person, but now she was confused and she hoped her raised eyebrows were conveying as much. "We lost. And then I left. I didn't really do anything for you."

Santana looked at her as if she couldn't possibly be serious. Losing Sectionals with the Trouble Tones was definitively not ideal, but one of their judges was a literal clown! She of course had a grudge, she wouldn't be Santana Lopez if she didn't, but none of it was aimed at Shelby. Mr. Schuester might have been the one blabbing about the power of the journey, but it had been Shelby who had made hers significant in any way.

"So, yeah, no shining trophy for our little Sapphic band of misfits. It doesn't matter now. You were the only person in that godforsaken school other than Brittany to ever tell me that I was indeed very awesome, but that I could do so much better."

"What about Will?"

Santana just snorted and rolled her eyes at that. "Mr. Schue cared and meant well. But he was more the play it by ear type of coach and the inspirational pep talk embellished by moved tears type of counselor. He tried to help, of course, but I still fail to see how disco week and a gross polyester suit could have changed my future. Sue Sylvester and Britt of all people were the ones to have a concrete idea to push me out the door.

"You didn't just give me a chance to be in the spotlights, you showed me my weakness and encouraged me to work hard and believe that I was just as musically talented as the rest of the Diva pack. It took a while to sink in, you know? But it did. I was almost through my first year at University of Hickville - Kentucky when I decided I had had enough of being stuck. There was this voice in the back of my head telling me fear of failure was a self-fulfilling prophecy, and it sounded suspiciously nasal and bossy. So I dug an arrangement a certain someone had scraped specially for me of 'Remain Nameless' from a musty corner of my iPad, I perfected it and I used it as my audition piece for the Eastman School of Music. And in the end, I did come to New York and found my dreams, and I did it the right way."

"Well, I'm impressed." And incredibly flattered. She just couldn't help this joy that filled her inside, seeing someone she cared about living the best moment of her life. Seeing Santana blossom and knowing she had hanged on to her minimal help. The time she had spent in McKinley had been so turbulent for everyone involved, but Santana had received the harsher blunts. The girl had been outed in the whole county, on the Television and Shelby remembered sitting at her living room, baffled and pissed, totally clueless about how to help a pupil she had known for only three months.

She hated pity, and she had guessed that Santana wasn't the type of person to take sympathy lightly either. She had also witnessed the monumentally condescending parade of support she had been forced to endure, and how much the girl was writhing and suffocating under it. She wasn't sure who had decided that forcing Santana to sit down and listen to everybody else express their feelings about her struggles with her sexuality, but they were idiots.

Shelby had considered the lyrics fitting. She would probably have used it as a solo performance if they had made it to Regionals, but she was glad it had served to even better purposes. Eastman was an excellent school; she had only sent two previous students there and they were the best of the best.

"I met these guys there. After graduation they were going to New Orleans for a while and I thought, why not? Best decision of my life."

Santana had already started to detach from her pursue of fame and focus on her craft during college; Eastman was not for fame whores after all. People were deadly serious about music, and she had started to act more like a pro and an artist. But the south had been a different environment completely; she had met people that taught her that it wasn't just about pouring stuff out through music, it was also about transcending. She missed the place terribly. She must have had that longing glaze on her eyes, because Shelby commented curiously "But you're back here."

"Yeah. I like the scene down there better. It's more raw and authentic, and I felt more inspired. We all did. But we were composing a lot, we were interested in doing mostly our own stuff, and a producer offered us a contract to record some stuff."

"Santana!" Shelby jumped up and shouted, her eyes widening in a cartoonish kind of way. Shelby the cartoon was very, very cute. Nobody had mustered this much enthusiasm for her success besides her family. She was sure Britt would have, but since the girl had moved to LA to dance they had been having an even harder time finding each other.

She shrugged, not because it wasn't a big freaking deal. As far as she was concerned, it was a massive deal. But it was also bound to happen. She was talented and she was pretty; she was also the very face of tenacity. All she had needed was to figure out how to apply her natural charisma and strength well.

"I'm not going to become Britney Spears or play in stadiums, but that's not my thing anymore anyways. It'll be nice to have our music out there, and the clubs in New York are great. Also, I may or may not be applying to the Master Program in Jazz Studies at NYU this year, so that's a plus."

Shelby could barely believe this Santana was the same one that was so overwhelmed by feeling different and not wanting to be considered so. This Santana was very much adult and had her head in all the right places. Her career, her education; herself. It elated her to witness this transformation.

And it also sort of delighted her that San was looking up her alma mater. Shelby had attended Tisch when she was younger, and then gone back to study Vocal Pedagogy during her second stopover in the city. It wasn't easy to try Graduate School in between random gigs and being a full-time mom to a newborn, but she always enjoyed studying. Getting her MA had been the only truly fulfilling she had accomplished in New York back then.

"Well, if you want my opinion, you should do it. Steinhardt is a pretty cool place and you could take yourself to the next level. You could become a Diana Krall sort of artist."

"Or I could, you know, become a Santana Lopez sort of artist," Santana sassed it up, making Shelby crack up.

"Even better."

After that, the conversation became really light and easy. Shelby was interested in Santana's music, and their passion for the subject carried them on. The three or four glasses of wine they ingested with little food didn't hurt either, and it certainly played a part in upping the flirting. Shelby certainly wasn't touchy-feely, but her hand was resting cozily against Santana's elbow without her discernment. Santana, on the other hand, was easily much more overt and had possessed every intention to park her own hand against the older woman's knee. The way her thumb kept brushing the inside of Shelby's tight was pretty purposeful as well, but she hadn't heard a protest so far.

At some point, Santana had even been nice enough to acknowledge Aiden and Eric. Aiden had thrown a little charm her way, in her opinion, being clearly blind or stupid, and when she had gotten up to have a word with the band and then order some more drinks, he had not so inconspicuously followed her to the bar. Santana had matured considerably; she liked to think that even more than it should be expected of her considering that a substantial part of her youth had been drained by the double life she had led. However, patience and graciousness were not qualities she had acquired yet.

"Look, hot stuff, I'm sure you're used to being the brightest colored unicorn in the forest, and if Shelby is keen on you, there must be some hidden redeeming quality to your persona, but I'm really only interested in penises that come off. Comprende?"

The guy had needed a few minutes to save face, but once he had returned to the table, he had started behaving himself. They all talked about their current musical and various Broadway gossip, and at some point Santana had started egging Shelby on to hop on stage with her.

Shelby wasn't sure if it was the four too many glasses of white wine weighing on her brain, Eric and Aiden practically forcing her to get on her feet or that smile Santana was sporting just for her benefit, but suddenly she was sitting on a stool on stage, agreeing to sing Baby It's Cold Outside with San. She hadn't really performed for an audience in over five years, she hadn't warmed up in any way and she wasn't sure she remembered the lyrics to the song or if the key Santana had asked for would even play in her favor. She was in no shape to sing whatsoever, but at some point she had crossed the line into too inebriated to care.

The band started playing and Santana made a head sign for her to go first, and she had no idea how, but she took it away. She had no clue if she was getting the words right, and she better not be finding out one way or the other via YouTube, but Santana and she were harmonizing perfectly.

Well, they were doing much more than that. Shelby felt almost like they were in their own little world, not in a bar with probably fifty strangers. Santana's dark eyes would only stray away from hers to rack along her body during the most suggestive parts of the song. Or in that brief stunt when she was standing behind her stroking her fingertips from her lower back to, well… lower.

Shelby swore to God she was going to stop drinking if neither Aiden nor Eric brought this up, ever. And if she managed to leave the club with her underwear reasonably dry. When the song ended, she was basically dazed, and she had barely grasped that both Santana and her sax player thanked everybody, including Shelby, and bid farewell before she was staring at Santana's back disappearing between the tables. It took her another couple seconds while she processed through the confusion, but she finally jumped off and ran after San.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, was all Santana could think while she rushed into the little room her band had been allowed to use as a dressing room and flicked the lights on. She had no idea how she could have been so hasty to play this game with Shelby effing Corcoran. The only women she ever hit on were certifiably into her, and even so, they were a bunch of what's-her-faces she was bound to never see again. After she had forced herself to let go of Britt, she had never risked being with someone to whom she was exposed.

Shelby had always seen her. She had spent five years being mutely thankful to her for planting this wonderful little seed inside of her. To the point that, and she wouldn't confess it to a living soul, she had kind of reverenced the woman. All of these years that she hadn't summoned the courage to look for Shelby, she had been wishing she would one day bump into her, so the woman could see what she had finally become and Santana could at least explain how she had contributed and say thank you. It was idiotic and obsessive to the point of being super creepy. Santana was not into being a wimp, and if she could, she'd go Lima Heights all over that piece of herself. And it didn't even matter anymore, because she had just taken pathetic to a new level.

She knew that if she had any decency, she would go back outside and apologize to Shelby for her beyond distasteful behavior. But her shame and the fear of further humiliation she also wouldn't care to admit stopped her. She was so pissed at herself that she hadn't noticed Shelby leaning against the doorframe and observing her angrily putting on her coat and scarf.

Shelby knew she should have announced her presence instead of lurking like a macabre apparition, but Santana seemed kind of upset and she had been waiting for the younger woman to calm down a little. Instead, it seemed like she had only worked herself up, and the only thing that brought her out of whatever was going through her mind was indeed turning around and seeing Shelby there. She saw Santana swallow tensely and bend to pull her messenger bag from under a bunch of others, a perfect opportunity to not be facing her when she mumbled "I'm really so sorry, Shelby."

"Sorry for what?"

"I know you're not gay."

Shelby barely managed to comprehend what Santana had muttered through her obviously clenched teeth, and San kept her back firmly turned to the older woman until the silence was too much for her. Shelby had crossed her arms and was raising that very frightening eyebrow at her; she seemed irked.

"San, I would never be offended by your flirting. Don't you know me better than that?"

Santana lowered her head and brushed her face, even more mortified, because Shelby had always been nothing but laid-back about all the gay stuff, even the occasional offhand comment either Britt or she would throw at her to see if it made her squirm back in their Trouble Tones days.

But at the same time, she felt that allowing her to build something up like that just to be politically correct was incredibly condescending. She would probably not let a man do the same and to be treated with kids' gloves was really annoying. Didn't Shelby know her better? She shot the older woman a dirty glare, adjusted her bag over her shoulder and tried to sidestep Shelby and leave, but she moved and blocked her exit.

"Look, Shelby, I flirt. I'm a starving musician, and things are easier with a little wink, wink. A lot easier. I'm hot."

Shelby was certainly amused at Santana's never ending confidence, but she was sure that was not the girl's point. "But?"

Santana sighed and shook her leg angrily. At this point, she was really starting to regret having stumbled upon Shelby. "But you're not some gross producer or club owner. You are… you," Santana gestured wildly in Shelby's direction and huffed, clearly exasperated, and the fact that Shelby only smiled down at her certainly didn't put her at ease.

"You know, I always thought Rochester was a pretty great school, but I'll have to rethink that if you're this eloquent."

Ok, now, Santana was officially fuming. She was definitively turning a shade of red and Shelby thought she might start expelling fire through her ears any minute. That glare she was receiving was surely the Lima Heights Adjacent one and she feared that she might be screamed at in Spanish soon. She couldn't help, not withstanding, that she was simply too amused.

"You didn't change that much, you know? You still go to the anger place."

Santana scoffed loudly and crossed her arms, but she seemed self-conscious when she commented "This is not Snixx coming out to play."

"Maybe not, but instead of making yourself vulnerable and asking me if what I felt was as real as what you felt, you got pissed at yourself and I'm gonna guess at least a little bit at me, for playing along, and you ran away."

Shelby knew that behind Santana's constant rage there had always been an intense dread. The girl just didn't know how to cope with rejection. And Shelby had done some unadvised things in her life, but she wouldn't have lead Santana on. She didn't consider herself bi, and the last time she had been with a woman had been almost fifteen years before, but she wasn't exactly rigid in regards to her sexuality. She had also never felt pressed to over think it or talk about it. She knew she would probably drop dead from the anxiety if she had taken it to a problematic place, so she had merely committed to not complicate what were supposed to be good feelings.

Santana was just shocked. She didn't know if Christmas had come early and she should just bless Santa Claus and not question stuff, or if maybe she should approach this as something that could disintegrate very quickly if she wasn't super careful. She had no doubt that something very real had passed between them; it was almost an electric current. But was Shelby solid enough to handle how much she wanted her, or would Santana scare her?

"I'm sorry," she whispered tentatively. "So, what does that mean exactly?"

"I think it means I'm into you. Urgh, I'm too old to be saying that; it sounded dirty."

Now Shelby was the one that couldn't look up, and she was actively trying to hide her blushing face behind her hand. She also had a look of utter disgust on her face. It was funny. Santana was still a bit hesitant to make a move, but she knew she had to. It was now or never.

"Dirty can be good, Miss C."

Santana shifted closer to her and Shelby felt her palm against her waist, brushing it smoothly until they were standing shoulder to shoulder and the hand was resting over her hipbone. That was not contributing to her deal with God earlier in like, anyway.

"It's Shelby," she finally hissed, because the last thing she wanted to think about in that moment was the fact that Santana had once been her student.

Santana smirked, and not only because it was nice to mess with Shelby. She hadn't run screaming yet, and Santana could feel the familiar heat building on her stomach. It felt nice being this close to her, engulfed in her perfume, in her warmth.

They were almost the same height, but Santana raised herself on her tip toes so she could lean into Shelby. She let her lips faintly graze Shelby's cheek; so soft, it was heavenly. "Old can be hot too, Shelby," she whispered directly into the older woman's ear.

Shelby's only response was to swat her ass, which only broadened Santana's smirk. She stared up into the hazel orbs and blinked in a very devious way. "Now that is not my thing. I'm more of a top type person, if you know what I mean."

Shelby scoffed loudly, and turned a brighter shade of red, but the glint in her eyes was definitively lustful when she replied with a husky "I don't think so."

Shelby really wasn't that adamant to the alpha dog in bed; it went against her policy of letting good things happen. Hell if she would miss on pleasure because she needed to be in control; it sufficed to have it in every other aspect of the relationship. But she had been curious about what Santana would do and she surely wasn't disappointed when the Latina grabbed her mouth and initiated a fiery kiss that barely allowed her to breathe.

Santana pressed her whole body against Shelby, who was helpless trapped against the door, and pushed her tongue into her mouth. Despite all the wine they had drunk, Shelby still tasted kind of sweet. This was one of those situations in which the more she got out of woman, the more she desired her. Seriously, if she didn't control herself, she would end up finger banging Shelby in a nasty bathroom stall or something. So, she pulled away. "Your place?"

Shelby eyes were still glazed with arousal and it took her a moment to contemplate her question.

"No. Beth and Rachel are there."

"Berry?"

"Do I have another daughter named Rachel? Yes, she kind of lives with me right now."

Santana found the information a bit disturbing. She really didn't want to remember she was sexing the mother of one of her high-school friends up. "Why?"

Shelby just shrugged and ran her hands through Santana's sides. She too really didn't want to think of Rachel right at that minute. She adored Rachel, but her kids were not the best topic of conversation in the compromising position in which she found herself.

"Er, starving artist. Ring a bell? I make a pretty good living, so I have space, and she has a clean room, on a nice neighborhood, free of rent or bills, all she has to do is watch her sister once in a while."

Santana grunted, because nobody ever offered her free board in New York City in exchange of anything even marginally decent, and life had to continue to be unfair and privilege Berry all the way, non? No matter; she hoped Rachel was well and all, but she had more pressing business in her mind, so she just told Shelby to grab her things and meet her outside.

By the time Shelby appeared on the side walk, wrapped in a very expensive looking coat, Santana had already managed to grab them a cab. She held the door open for Shelby to slide inside and then promptly directed the driver to the W Hotel. Shelby seemed stunned and Santana was aware that it was going to be a very expensive night, but she just could not do cheap motels. She couldn't take Shelby to her place either. Her flat wasn't in a terrible neighborhood, it was actually one of the best ones in Brooklyn, but she shared it with her sax and bass players. They were guys and they were messy.

"Hell if I'll take a fancy old lady such as yourself to my little hell on earth. You wouldn't be able to get the stench of three days-old burritos and men's socks out of your Givenchy bag for months."

She took the opportunity to send a text to her roommates and tell them not to worry about her, and Shelby did the same and warned Rachel she wouldn't make it home tonight. While Santana would probably get teased, Shelby knew she would get a swirl of questions the next day. Rachel had lived with her parents who had been married for over two decades her whole life, and always pounced on her when she spent a night out.

Getting a room hadn't been easy either. Santana, who had more dates in hotels than she could count, was fully used to it, but Shelby had become furious at the receptionist's prying glare. Then, of course, they had gotten into a silly discussion about who would pay for the room that lasted the better of three minutes before they did the obvious and split the bill.

Santana had caressed the internal part of Shelby's wrist the whole elevator ride, hoping the woman wasn't nervous and trying to hide that she, unexpectedly, was. The room was cozy and nice. Shelby didn't find it super inviting, but then, she hated hotel rooms. She sat on the bed to unbutton her jacket, and at least it was a very comfortable bed. She saw Santana lean against a desk, seeming way too stressed for someone who had been calling most of the shots.

"San?"

"There is still time for you back down, you know?"

Shelby chuckled because despite the fact that there was indeed always time for one of them to say no, it would have been better if that had occurred before they paid for that suite. Also, the thoughtfulness was nice. She was just afraid that it wasn't about that at all.

She extended her hand and Santana took it, letting Shelby pull her closer and rub her back softly. She pressed a kiss into the girl's navel, over her blouse, and cherished the feeling of Santana's fingers stroking her hair gently.

"I'm okay. Are you okay?" Santana frowned down at her, and bit her lip, obviously not knowing where to even start answering that. She was in paradise, but she was also sort of frightened. "I don't want to hurt you either, San."

But those words were all she needed to hear to wind down. A part of her just wanted to bounce at the fact that she had just managed to drag this amazing woman to a hotel room, and not only she sort of liked her as human being in the grand scheme of things, but Shelby cared too. Instead, she put both of her knees on the bed and sat on Shelby's lap; the hand that was still on her hair grabbed it, not forcibly enough to hurt her, and tilted Shelby's head back, eliciting a moan. Santana's moist lips closed around the creamy skin of her neck.