It would be flat-out lying to say that she never admired how breathtakingly gorgeous Quinn Fabray is. In fact, Quinn was the first girl Santana had truly appreciated beyond typical admiration for the other girls. Every time she had to stand next to Quinn in the Cheerios locker room, it took all her effort to keep her eyes locked forward into the depths of her own locker to avoid staring at those abs as Quinn changed beside her.

Through high school, Santana found other ways to distract herself from thinking about Quinn. It was easier to focus on maintaining her reputation by excelling where Quinn Fabray wouldn't: in sexual prowess. For the most part, it worked out relatively well. Quinn kept Finn close, leaving Santana with her choice from the rest of the school as her arm candy. Sex with guys wasn't usually the most pleasant experience, but it was all about keeping her mind off of Quinn's legs in that Cheerio skirt and maintaining a high level of popularity.

Finn spewing her biggest secret to a crowded hallway changed a lot of things for Santana. Sure, she loved Brittany; they had been best friends since elementary school. Brittany was an affectionate person and Santana enjoyed her soft, feminine hands more than she ever appreciated the oversized, fumbling hands of her male partners. She enjoyed Brittany's company, but she wasn't in love with Brittany the way that Finn implied.

Deep down Santana knew that Brittany didn't love her in that way either. But having Brittany attached to her side as she was forced to come out in Lima made it so much more bearable of an experience. So they dated and enjoyed one another's company and for the most part, Santana was happy.

College cheerleading had never been part of her life plan. Cheerleading in high school was one thing: it was a status symbol that was unmatched by any other extracurricular activity. The Cheerios were the best at what they did and that was just a bonus compared to being the most popular kids at McKinley. In college, the main focus was on crowd-pleasing at football games. The other girls were bitchy and jealous of Santana's quick assent to the top of the squad (being a former Cheerio under the infamous Sue Sylvester did have some lasting perks) and Louisville was easily just as lame as Lima had been. From the first day of cheer camp in August, Santana knew that she was destined for greater things than what Louisville would ever be able to offer her.

Being in Kentucky meant being close enough to visit Brittany whenever she wanted. It was bad enough that Brittany had been able to keep it a secret that she wouldn't be graduating, but leaving her in Lima as the rest of their grade moved onto other things had been horrible. It had been her duty to protect Brittany from the reality of high school and she had failed to make sure they could leave McKinley together.

In reality, it wasn't as much about Brittany needing Santana there as it was about Santana needing to be there for Brittany. Brittany was her safety net and her biggest motivator. She was one of the only people that ever made Santana leave her comfort zone. But she was also the person that always caught Santana when she fell. If Brittany hadn't gone to Sylvester, Santana probably wouldn't have left Lima at all. Despite being an integral part in that decision, Brittany was the one that sent Santana on her way when she was trying to play it safe after dropping out of college. Santana needed the kick in the ass to chase her dreams that only Brittany was able to give her.

~!~!~!~

Santana is only just starting to get the hang of New York City with its incredibly confusing subway system and plethora of people that are in a constant rush to go anywhere when it is time to go back to Lima for Mr. Schue's wedding. A Valentine's Day wedding is really the lamest idea she has ever heard, but the soft spot that she still holds for the glee club makes her fly back to Ohio, pull on a red dress – she vowed to never wear pink again after Rachel and Finn's failed wedding – and head to the church.

She runs into Quinn on the front steps of the church and they walk in together while Santana's new roommates rekindle their pathetic high school relationships within twenty-four hours of landing back in Lima. Brittany shows up hand-in-hand with Sam, who is wearing a grin like he had just won the lottery. They spot Santana sitting with Quinn a few pews back and give a little wave in greeting. Santana returns it and tries not to think what would have happened between her and Brittany if she hadn't left Lima without Brittany in August. This is the best thing for them as individuals: Santana is following her dreams and Brittany is taking the extra time to figure out what she wanted to do after high school. They had spent so much time doing everything as an inseparable duo that it just felt a little off to be so distant now.

Quinn goes on a rampage about hating men as she fixes her makeup in the pew beside Santana. Santana bites back her more vicious remarks about Quinn's experience with men, figuring that if she had to attend this wedding stag, she should probably not piss off the one person that is willing to keep her company for the evening.

There was something different about Quinn since she had left for college. Sure, she was still an arrogant bitch, as shown by her condescending tone and following slap to Santana's face on Thanksgiving weekend. But seeing her in New York when Kurt called them to help Rachel was like Santana was seeing a new version of Quinn.

She was still snarky, but as the two of them squeezed onto Rachel and Kurt's couch that night, a soft side of Quinn that Santana never had experienced slipped through the cracks. Maybe it was the wine that had drank or maybe it was the rush of being in New York away from the pressures of their real lives, but Santana listened as Quinn talked about how different Yale was and about ending her messed up relationship with her psych professor. They talked late into the night, both about the future and the past, and Santana let Quinn into her head more in that one night than she had ever let another person in her entire life.

Quinn had always been someone that let her relationships be the focus of her life. Santana figured that Quinn would have picked up some rich, preppy guy at Yale once her ridiculous affair with the professor ran its course. She came to the wedding with no date and with no tolerance for men at the moment, which instantly made Santana wonder about what was going on with Quinn. It was so far out of what she had grown to expect from Quinn. As soon as the feeling of hope rushed into her, Santana squashed it back down. Quinn was a beautiful, straight woman that was having a moment of hatred towards the opposite sex. That didn't mean Santana had a real shot. She never had and never was going to as long as men were on the planet.

The wedding ends up not happening since Miss Pillsbury flew the coop, but Mr. Schue insists that the reception go on as planned since everybody traveled to be there for the wedding. Santana and Quinn waste no time when they enter the reception hall. Within minutes, glasses of wine are placed in front of them. Santana picks hers up and turns to watch the crowd fill up the room.

It catches Santana off guard when Quinn compliments her. In all of her time of being friends with Quinn, she couldn't remember a time where Quinn had genuinely paid her a compliment. Like herself, there was always an ulterior motive for Quinn's actions. Santana would have brushed it off as Quinn being polite, but the stroke of Quinn's fingers down her bicep and the twinkle in Quinn's eyes told her that is definitely not the case. If Santana is being honest with herself, she would believe that Quinn Fabray is actually openly flirting with her.

After a few more drinks, Santana finally drags Quinn onto the dance floor. It's an upbeat song and Quinn doesn't let go of Santana's hand even once they're in the middle of the crowd. Instead, she tugs on it until Santana moves closer to her. They're facing one another and Santana studies the blonde shamelessly as they start to move with the music. Quinn has a playful smile dancing on her lips as she inches in closer, letting her fingers intertwine with Santana's. She's definitely tipsy if her rosy cheeks and glassy eyes are anything to go by, but Santana loves this happy drunk side of Quinn.

When the music slows down, Quinn doesn't let go of Santana's hand. With a cock of her head, Santana silently questions Quinn's intentions. Quinn steps into her and lets go of her hand so that she can lock them behind Santana's neck instead. On pure instinct, Santana allows her hands fall onto Quinn's waist as they fall into a slow, rocking rhythm.

She isn't surprised when Quinn tells her that she's never slow danced with a girl before. At first, she wonders if this is Quinn telling her that to make sure that Santana understands that dancing together means nothing. But then Quinn is telling her that she likes it as she pulls Santana into her even tighter and Santana isn't sure of what is really going on anymore. This seems to have crossed the line of just being friendly and she lets Quinn hold her close as Rachel's voice fills the room.

With another glass of wine, Quinn is pulling her into the lobby and upstairs towards the hotel room she rented. Santana doesn't argue as they giggle and skip their way through the hallway. Quinn's hand keeps finding hers and her face is alight in a way Santana never thought she would get to experience. Quinn stumbles and laughs as she unlocks the door and heads into the room. Santana throws her hands up excitedly before she disappears behind her.

Quinn kisses her first, catching Santana completely off-guard. She stumbles backwards from the force of Quinn pushing into her front. They break apart in another fit of giggles and Santana bends down to yank her heels off of her tired feet. Quinn does the same, gripping onto Santana for balance in the dark room.

Santana gropes for the light switch by the door and flips it on, bathing them in the dim light of the overhead lamp. Quinn's hair is already mussed from running up to the hotel room and Santana reaches out, pulling Quinn's mouth towards her by the back of her neck.

Quinn moans when Santana skips gently kissing her and pushes her tongue into her mouth, tasting the sweetness of wine on Quinn's tongue. Santana pushes down the thoughts of where this change in Quinn is coming from and basks in the feel of Quinn responding to each movement of her tongue. Quinn fights her for control and Santana relinquishes it readily, her stomach tightening at the determined stroke of Quinn's tongue along her lower lip before her teeth bite down on it.

"Fuck, Q," Santana mumbles as Quinn tugs on her lip before running her tongue along it again. Santana groans and starts nudging Quinn back into the room. They stumble along in their bare feet until Quinn's calves hit the bottom of the bed. She pulls away and Santana feels her heart race at the sight of Quinn looking at her with such need.

Santana reaches behind herself and slowly pulls the zipper down her back. Quinn's eyes stay locked on Santana's and she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth as the material falls away and leaves Santana standing in just a strapless bra and panties directly in front of her. Santana smirks when she hears Quinn loudly exhale as Quinn lets her eyes travel downward, taking in her enhanced chest in contrast to her incredibly flat stomach.

With no hesitation, Santana moves forward and takes hold of the front of Quinn's jacket. She can feel the heat radiating from Quinn and she speeds up just a fraction, keeping her eyes locked on Quinn's as she slides the material off of Quinn's shoulders and down her arms. Quinn moves with Santana until the jacket is dropped to the floor. Santana moves even closer and reaches behind Quinn, letting her breathe in Quinn's perfume as she leans in to kiss Quinn's neck as she reaches for the zipper of the dress.

The little whimper that Quinn releases as Santana kisses her way down her neck as she starts to pull the dress away from Quinn's body is the best sound Santana thinks she has ever heard. It spurs Santana on and she kisses along her left collarbone as the pink dress pools around Quinn's ankles. Quinn's fingers grip at Santana's shoulders, her nails digging into the bare skin.

"Bed?" Santana mumbles against the crook of Quinn's neck as she kisses along it. She feels Quinn nod her head and Santana giggles at the enthusiasm Quinn puts behind it.

She pulls away from Quinn in order to shove her back onto to the bed. Quinn grunts as her back hits the mattress with a thud. Santana stands at the edge and admires the mostly-naked Quinn splayed across the hotel bed. Quinn's eyelashes flutter and she gives Santana a lazy smile. Santana climbs onto the bed next to her and Quinn turns on her side, resting her hand on Santana's ribs as she leans in to kiss her.

Santana returns the kiss, keeping them slow and delicate despite Quinn trying to push the pace. Her head feels light, both from the wine and the taste of Quinn's lip-gloss, and Santana is afraid to move too fast and lose the connection building between them.

Quinn doesn't want to be patient, however, and she battles against Santana for control. Santana resists as much as she can, pulling away before diving back in for short pecks. Quinn doesn't give up though, and Santana doesn't push her away when Quinn rolls into her. It is in an effortless motion that Quinn has Santana pinned against the mattress. Santana doesn't fight it; she is mesmerized by the way Quinn's hair, which has grown out since graduation,

falls in a curtain around her face.

She only gets a short time to gaze at Quinn before the blonde hair is tickling her cheeks as Quinn is kissing her. Her eyes flutter closed at the sensation of Quinn's tongue pushing against her lips. She shudders at the feel of Quinn's fingers scraping up her ribs Even the simplest touches are igniting every inch of her, but she wills herself to let Quinn control where this night is going.

Despite her inexperience, Quinn isn't afraid to take what she wants. Quinn has always been able to get whatever she puts her mind to and Santana knows that tonight has become one of those scenarios. And despite the fact that she wants so much more than a random carefree evening of casual sex with the girl of her dreams, this is all about Quinn. So when Quinn's hand ventures upwards to cup Santana through her bra, she arches into the touch and pushes all other thoughts out of her mind.

Quinn's hands move with purpose, gliding over the fabric and lingering over Santana's straining nipples, teasing them with a light pinch of her fingers. Santana feels ridiculous at how quickly Quinn has managed to work her up, but she is already losing control of her body; her hips push up into Quinn as her mouth continues to explore every inch of Quinn's. She can hardly focus enough to reach behind Quinn to unsnap her bra with the pleasure that is coursing through her from the simple ministrations of Quinn's skillful hands.

Eventually she finds the clasp of Quinn's bra and she manages to get it off on the first try with one deft movement. The material bunches between their bodies and Quinn lets go of her in order to sit up and pull the straps down her forearms until she can toss the garment away from them. Quinn wastes no time in mimicking the action, forcing Santana's back off the bed enough for her to yank the clasp apart hastily and throwing the bra off the edge of the bed.

Santana is trying not to stare; it isn't anything she hasn't seen before at sleepovers or in the Cheerio locker room, of course, but in the dim light of the hotel room, Quinn looks more like a flawless angel than Santana has ever seen. Hazel eyes have turned dark as her pupils have expanded with lust and she smirks down at Santana. She slides back down, letting their bodies come together. Santana's moan is swallowed by Quinn's mouth when their chests rub together for the first time, the lack of material allowing Quinn's soft skin to glide seductively against hers.

Quinn reaches her hand in between them and palms Santana's chest delicately. Santana sucks in a breath and holds as still as she can as Quinn explores the flesh: cupping it and squeezing lightly, running her fingertips against a hard nipple. It's excruciatingly slow and easily the most intimate Santana has even been with another person. She bites her lip and lets Quinn explore every inch of exposed flesh.

Santana gasps as Quinn moves her lips down Santana's jawline and along the skin of Santana's neck, tongue darting out to drag along the salty skin. She doesn't stop when she reaches the base of her neck; Santana feels the exhale of her hot breath against her collarbone before lips make contact with the skin as they drift along Santana's collarbone and down onto her breast bone.

She can feel Quinn hesitate just for a second and she opens her eyes as Quinn's lips start to move up from the valley of her chest. She focuses on Quinn's mouth and the way it moves so delicately against her, leaving a damp trail in its wake.

It's hard to not just lose herself to the pleasure when the warmth of Quinn's mouth finally encloses a stiff nipple. She groans as Quinn's tongue flicks against the tip and the suction around it increases in response. Quinn is using Santana's actions as her guide and Santana is happy to encourage her. She grips tightly at Quinn's waist, fingernails digging into the pale flesh. Her hands are twitching in anticipation of touching Quinn, but this about letting Quinn have what she wants and right now it is obvious that what she wants is to made Santana explode with pleasure.

Quinn moves to her other nipple and her fingers come up to play in unison, making Santana's hips buck up into Quinn's stomach, desperate to find relief for the throbbing between her legs. Quinn giggles against her and Santana can feel Quinn's anxiousness over where this is heading. She runs her hands up Quinn's sides, kneading them and tracing the outline of each rib. Quinn pulls her mouth away and rests her forehead against Santana's chest, her breaths coming in rapid pants. Santana doesn't hesitate as she runs her hands along heated skin, moving up the underside of Quinn's breasts until her fingers are brushing against tense nipples.

Santana feels Quinn's body tremble where it touches her own and she grows a little more aggressive, rolling nipples between her fingers and feeding off of Quinn's barely audible whimpers.

Quinn eventually lifts her head and slides up Santana's body until their lips meet again. Santana has slept with girls before; Brittany was her first everything, but after their breakup she tried to branch out. Yet the feel of Quinn Fabray's weight settling on top of her as her lips feverishly push against hers is unlike anything she's ever experienced. She seems to know Santana in the most intimate ways; it's like they've been doing this dance for their whole lifetime. Quinn knows when to push and pull her, ebbing and flowing, without Santana ever needing to lead her there. She understands the way Santana works in ways Santana doesn't even know.

So when the inexperienced blonde pulls away and falls onto the bed next to Santana, Santana knows better than to question Quinn's intentions. Ten seconds later, Santana's red thong is being dragged down her tan thighs, grazing over her knees, skimming down her calves, and being unhooked from her ankles. She doesn't see where Quinn disposes of it; she's too busy taking in the look of admiration that Quinn is giving her incredibly exposed body.

She has watched Quinn's eyes drag along her body so many times in the past five years of their quasi-friendship. There were uniform inspections for Cheerios and pool parties both before and after Santana's summer surgery. Those were always almost clinical in nature in comparison to this moment. It's hard to stay still and just let Quinn absorb every square inch of her. She wants to pull the blonde back down on top of her and let Quinn explore with her hands instead of her eyes. That would be a million times less intimate than this moment.

But this is Quinn, the girl that she has wished would look at her the same way that she looked at Quinn. And now Quinn is looking at her like she is the only girl in the world. That is the only thing that gets Santana to swallow her insecurities of being sprawled out naked on a hotel room bed bathed in crappy lighting.

"God, you're beautiful," Quinn whispers, reaching one hand out and letting it ghost along the ridge of Santana's hipbone. Santana's eyes fall closed and she swallows hard as she tries to control her impulses to put her walls back up. But she doesn't want to shut Quinn out, not anymore.

She cracks her eyes open again and sees that Quinn is only looking at her face now. It's the comfort she needs right now and Quinn seems to know that perfectly. Santana watches Quinn shift on the bed and then she's discarding her own panties, her eyes never leaving Santana's as she drops them off of the bed. Santana can't contain the smile that sneaks onto her face.

The pace speeds up again as soon as Santana reaches out and pulls Quinn back down onto her. Her hands find purchase on Quinn's ass and she giggles against Quinn's lips when the blonde squeaks in surprise at Santana's sudden intensity. Their kisses grow sloppy and hands explore. Santana can feel the growing wetness between her legs and she clenches her thighs together as she scratches her perfectly manicured fingernails down the length of Quinn's back.

Santana loves the feeling of Quinn on top of her, but she wants to worship Quinn's body in the way that nobody else has ever taken the time to do. So she delicately rolls Quinn off of her despite Quinn's resistance. She reaches to the side and yanks out the sheets and the blankets. Quinn crawls underneath them and Santana follows her, letting the sheets come to rest by her hips as she hooks one leg between Quinn's legs, spreading them open. Quinn gasps as Santana lowers herself down, forcing her thigh to graze along Quinn's center, her wetness gathering on Santana's bare skin.

She rocks into Quinn, slowly, steadily, taking in every line of Quinn's features, every intake of breath. She balances on her forearms on either side of Quinn's head, their noses merely inches apart, their warm breath heating the small space between them. Quinn's eyes are closed and her mouth is hangs slightly open. She looks peaceful, more so than Santana has ever seen her.

Santana doesn't want to tease her. She doesn't want to play games. They will probably laugh about this later. Maybe when they are trying to catch their breath at dawn or ten years from now as they meet up for coffee on a Sunday afternoon. But either way, Santana wants it to be a memory, one that Quinn can carry with her without regret. She wants it to be everything that her first time with Puck wasn't, everything that was missing from the loveless affair with the married professor.

So she snakes a hand down Quinn's stomach and shifts her hips so that she can cup Quinn's sex. Quinn groans and grinds her hips into her, but Santana holds her ground. God, she wants to fuck Quinn with all that she has. It might be what Quinn thinks she wants, but Santana knows that it is definitely not what Quinn needs. She runs her fingers along the swollen, wet folds fervently. Quinn gasps and grinds. Her hands reach for any part of Santana that they can hold onto.

Santana circles slowly, coming to rest at Quinn's entrance. She holds still and waits for Quinn's eyes to flutter open and focus on her own.

"What are you waiting for?" Quinn asks breathlessly, rocking her hips in an attempt to get Santana moving again.

"Always the romantic, Fabray," Santana returns with an eye roll. So maybe this is just an experience for Quinn. It's just sleeping with a girl to check something off her bucket list. Santana knows it's not a night for candles and cheesy background music and whispered declarations of love. But she's determined to make it as special as she can given the circumstances.

With Quinn's eyes fixated on her, she watches as she slowly pushes one digit inside. Quinn bites down on her lip and a deep groan slips out between the rows of perfect teeth, but her eyes never leave Santana's own. Santana contains her own moan at the feeling of Quinn's walls gripping at her finger. She drags it back out, losing herself in how amazing it feels to get lost in Quinn. With a few more slow pumps, Quinn's eyes fall closed again and she adds a second finger. Quinn takes it with relative ease, her body stretching to accommodate it. She's tight and Santana can feel herself dripping down her inner thighs as she fills Quinn with increasingly rapid strokes, drawing out moans and whimpers from Quinn. She takes in Quinn heaving chest and her undulating hips and the fists gripping the sheets so hard that her knuckles have turned white.

It's all too much for Santana and she feels like her chest is going to explode with everything she feels for Quinn. Studying her from above and seeing the sheer happiness painted on her features solely because of what Santana is doing is nearly too much for Santana to handle. After so many nights of thinking that Quinn would never understand how much she cares, this is her opportunity to show her with actions.

So Santana kisses down Quinn's stomach, lingering on her hipbones and the apex of her thighs while her fingers pump into Quinn, curling against her wall inside as she pulls out. Her lips make contact with Quinn's clit as she thrusts in again and the breathless obscenity that comes from Quinn is the sexiest thing she has ever heard.

Her tongue darts out, tasting the tangy sweetness that defines Quinn. Quinn reaches down and laces her fingers through Santana's hair as Santana's tongue rolls circles around her swollen clit.

The wine has worn off, but Santana is drunk on tasting and feeling Quinn. Quinn's calf comes up to wrap around Santana's waist as she grinds her hips and pushes herself into Santana's hand and face. There are a few long moments of Quinn's hips lifting off of the mattress towards Santana and a few well-placed drags of Santana's fingers and tongue before Quinn's body goes rigid, suspended in the moment. Then she's falling hard, her walls trapping Santana's fingers, her body rolling with the waves. Santana's name leaves her mouth in the midst of a strangled moan and Santana pushes on, drawing out even ounce of pleasure until Quinn shoves at her shoulder when it becomes too much.

Santana moves out from between Quinn's legs and presses herself against Quinn's side while the blonde catches her breath. Her skin glistens with the sheen of sweat and Santana kisses the salty crux of her neck softly before settling back next to her on the pillow.

Santana, for once in her life, doesn't even care about reciprocation. She lays beside Quinn as her breath slowly evens out, leaving her sated and peaceful. Santana lets her own eyes close and she stays near Quinn, not quite cuddling into her. This is just sex, even if Santana has learned from experience that sex is so much better with feelings, and cuddling will just confuse whatever this is.

Quinn has other plans though and she reaches over to run her hand along Santana's abs and down her side until she's grasping Santana's hip. She sits up, her eyes following the movement of her hand as she moves lower, inch by tantalizing inch. Santana's legs part on instinct and Quinn releases a nervous giggle as she fingers move down Santana's inner thigh. She pauses and sucks a breath in between her teeth before moving her hand upwards towards Santana's glistening center.

Santana's skin tingles everywhere that Quinn touches her, but the direct contact from her fingers makes Santana feel like she is on fire. Quinn's fingers run along Santana, coating them with Santana's wetness. She delves deeper into Santana's folds, touching and exploring with a confidence Santana didn't expect Quinn to have.

Who is she kidding though? Quinn is always the best at everything she attempts. Even with all of her ridiculous celibacy club bullshit, Santana is sure that the girl has to have explored her own body a few times. She hears that pregnancy hormones are crazy wild. Her mind starts wandering to what Quinn did on those quiet hours spent alone in the spare bedroom at Puckerman's house. But those thoughts are quickly interrupted as Quinn finds her clit. Quinn doesn't linger long, choosing instead to keep Santana guessing. She's already impossibly wet, but every stroke of Quinn's fingers seems to make her even wetter.

Her hips are bucking up into Quinn's hand and Quinn finally gives in and fills Santana with two long, slim fingers. Santana is used to swallowing her moans from all the times she has fooled around at sleepovers with Brittany, but as soon as Quinn's thumb finds her clit on a particularly forceful thrust, Santana can't hold it in any longer.

"Fuck, Q," she moans through gritted teeth.

She doesn't have to open her eyes to know that Quinn is flashing her a cocky smirk, but she doesn't care with how the white heat is starting to spread from the pit of her stomach through her entire body.

Her vision blurs with how hard her orgasm hits her. The waves of pleasure hit her hard and leave her completely in Quinn's control as the blonde continues to drag it out. By the time her body finally collapses back onto the bed, she's panting hard and she can feel beads of sweat rolling down her temples.

She can feel Quinn shift on the bed and by the time she opens her eyes, Quinn is tucked under the sheets and is leaning against the headboard holding a bottle of water. The air feels cold on her bare skin and she crawls under the sheets too, looking at Quinn from the other end of the bed and leaning on her hand as she studies how hot Quinn looks with sex hair and a sated smile.

"So that's why college girls experiment," Quinn exhales, leaning back into the pillows.

"And thank God they do," Santana quipped.

"You know, it was fun, and I always wondered what it would be like to be with a woman; but, uh, I don't know, I think for me it was more of a one-time thing."

"Look, you don't have to worry. I'm not gonna show up at your house with a U-Haul," Santana counters as casually as she can muster, hiding behind her humor in an attempt to avoid setting off Quinn's gay panic. She calms down a little bit when Quinn gives a small laugh.

"So what happens next?" Quinn asks, picking up a water bottle from the nightstand.

"Well, you could walk out first." She focuses on Quinn's lips as she takes a sip from the water bottle. "Or we could make it a two-time thing." Quinn drops the water bottle back onto the night stand and beckons her over with one finger, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.

Santana knew that even if it ended up only being a two-time thing, one night with Quinn is worth it.

~!~!~!~

Santana wakes up shortly after day break and it takes a moment to gain her bearings and realize that she's still in the hotel room rather than her bedroom at her parents' house. Blonde hair tickles her face and she smiles fondly at Quinn's sleeping form on the bed beside her. Santana rolls to the side and extracts the room service menu from the nightstand drawer. She orders them some chocolate chip pancakes and bacon before cuddling back into Quinn while she waits for the food to arrive.

There's a rap on the door and Santana bolts out of the bed, pulling a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts onto her naked body before she answers the door. A boy about her age waits in the hallway with the breakfast tray and she flashes him a quick, flirty smile before taking the food out of his hands and closing the door in his face before he can pathetically try to hit on her. Quinn is sitting up against the headboard when Santana rounds the corner. She is still naked and she holds the sheets tightly in place across her chest.

Santana realizes that this is probably Quinn's first morning after experience; Puck and the wrinkly, old professor didn't exactly seem like the kind to take care of their girl the following morning. Seeing Quinn's blatant insecurity, Santana deposits the breakfast tray onto the desk in the corner and crawls up from the foot of the bed towards the blonde. Quinn tightens her grip on the sheets as Santana approaches. It doesn't deter Santana, however, and she climbs directly into Quinn's lap and leans down to kiss her. Quinn turns her head, leaving Santana to kiss the corner of her mouth instead.

"I haven't even brushed my teeth yet, Santana," Quinn explains quickly when she sees the hurt on Santana's face. She nudges Santana, who rolls off of her with a muted sigh.

Quinn's eyes dart around the room looking for clothes. None of them are within reach of her spot in the bed.

"It's not like I haven't seen you naked before, Q," Santana jokes, trying to lighten the mood. Quinn's eyes keep searching.

Santana finally gets tired of watching Quinn panic about being naked around her, despite the fact that Santana had her hands and mouth all over that body through multiple rounds last night. She gets up from the bed and rummages through the top layer of Quinn's duffel bag until she finds a Yale t-shirt, a pair of sweatpants, and clean underwear. Without a word, she hands them to Quinn and turns her back to Quinn purposefully so that the blonde can make her way into the bathroom. When she hears the bathroom door lock click into place, she turns around and surveys the empty room. Their clothes from the night before outline a trail to the bed. Quinn's lacy panties lay on the floor right next to bed on Santana's side and Santana is tempted to take them as a souvenir. Somehow she knows that Quinn wouldn't be amused by that and resigns herself to clean up the evidence of last night's foray instead.

When Quinn emerges from the bathroom, her hair dripping onto her t-shirt from her cleansing shower, Santana notices how much more relaxed she seems to be. Santana is dressed in jeans and a loose fitting sweater. Her dress and heels from the wedding are shoved into her already overstuffed suitcase. Quinn's outfit is draped over the armchair neatly next to her duffel bag. Breakfast is laid out on the hastily made bed and Santana waits for Quinn to join her before digging into her own pancakes.

Quinn takes her time cutting her pancakes methodically, slicing through them in straight, neat lines before adding a tiny amount of syrup to the top. Santana just tears through hers like she hasn't seen food in days.

"Thanks for breakfast," Quinn says quietly as she finishes swallowing her first bite of lukewarm pancake. She purposefully avoids Santana's eyes as she says it.

Santana drops her fork onto the plate with a clatter. Quinn glances over curiously before averting her eyes quickly again.

"We really don't have to do this awkward crap. We hooked up, I rocked your world multiple times, and we're still friends."

Quinn's face immediately goes crimson at Santana's blunt words. Based on her reaction last night, Santana knew it wasn't gay panic. A few short hours ago, Quinn seemed quite pleased to have gotten her collegiate lesbian fling under her belt.

"Do you typically buy your one-night stands breakfast?" Quinn asks cynically, pushing her own plate away mostly uneaten.

"No, usually it's them bringing me breakfast. But you're pretty much a princess, so I figured I'd go hungry if I didn't take initiative."

Quinn frowns down at her food. Santana is just trying to play off the fact that Quinn is one of her closest friends and that she was doing everything in her power to give Quinn a good sexual, all-around experience for once in her life. She ordered breakfast because she wanted a couple more hours of peacefulness with Quinn inside this hotel room before the world ruins it. All of their friends are probably down in the lobby drinking coffee out of paper cups and eating stale muffins as they nurse their hangovers and mope in their regret. She doesn't want any of that with Quinn after having the best night of her life.

"Quinn, please don't do this," Santana pleads softly, her pride melting away. She has wanted Quinn for as long as she can remember, but it isn't satisfying in the way she thought it would be. And that is simple because Quinn regrets having crossed this line with her. At this point, all she can do is try to preserve the weak links of their crumbling friendship.

"Do what?" Quinn responds, crossing her arms defensively over her chest.

"You're shutting me out. You already said it's a one time thing. But we had fun and it doesn't have to be more than that. We don't even have to ever talk about it after we leave this hotel room if you don't want to. But I'm not going to let you sit here and wallow in regret over letting yourself have one night of carefree pleasure."

"I'm not wallowing," Quinn retorts. Santana raises a challenging eyebrow. "I'm not!"

"Well, you're refusing to even look at me. So yeah, you're wallowing and you're acting like you are completely ashamed of what happened between us."

Quinn bites down on her lip, but Santana doesn't back down. She stares at Quinn, willing her friend to talk about this.

"I'm not ashamed of sleeping with you, Santana." Quinn finally lets her eyes drift up to Santana's face. If Santana didn't know better, she would think that the look Quinn was more than just a confused friend.

Santana doesn't have a chance to respond before Quinn is moving swiftly across the bed, not even caring about knocking her plate of pancakes onto the comforter. Her lips collide with Santana's in a bruising kiss and Santana feels the air rush from her lungs before she reciprocates Quinn's forcefulness.

She's not sure if seconds or minutes or hours have passed when Quinn finally rocks back and puts a little bit of space between them. Santana can't pull her eyes off of Quinn's heaving chest and she can feel her own elevated heart pounding against her ribcage.

Before she can talk, Quinn is shoving her down against the bed. She knows better than to question Quinn; talking can only ruin whatever the hell this is. All she knows is that Quinn is making her feel wanted in a way nobody else ever has. And for now, that's all Santana needs.