A/N: YOU GUYS EARNED THIS. GO ENJOY IT, OKAY?
A/N 2: I hope this doesn't suck and that you all enjoy it, yeah? Onward! PLEASE REVIEW!
Don't You Want Me, Baby?
(Don't You Want Me, Oh)
"Santana?" Quinn calls out into the air, for reassurance mostly. A part of Quinn thinks that she misheard Santana's mild confession. This other part-the larger, territorial part, the part that made Quinn want to lock Santana away from everyone else- doesn't believe in mishearing things, that part of her stays quiet while internally chanting finally.
Santana meets Quinn's gaze and it's steadier than it was earlier, more determined even. Like she finally knows what she wants to say. "I want you." Santana repeats, and this time her voice is filled with more conviction. It's almost impossible to compare this Santana with the one from the party.
Quinn stares at Santana dumbly, because of all the places and all the ways she had envisioned hearing those words, it was never here that she pictured it happening. Not with Santana doped up on things Quinn couldn't even imagine. It's not even the flimsy fact that Santana's still high off of something that gets to her, it's the hope (the one she always carries) that maybe-just maybe-Santana is also kinda high off of love.
She doesn't see Santana stand, not really, because her mind is focused elsewhere. On the years and moments that have passed between them. On all the memories they've built together and all the experiences they've had when apart. She doesn't see Santana move in front of her at all, no, instead she feels her. Quinn feels Santana's chapped lips brush her dry ones before her mind has the opportunity to settle, and even though it doesn't make sense, Quinn can't help but feel this jolt of energy push through her, like they're trying to start a fire.
She pulls away from Santana quickly, her heart thumping wildly against her chest and her breath heavy. It's too much, she thinks, because even though she wants Santana, she doesn't want her like this. Not after a night like this one. She doesn't want Santana when she's drunk or under the influence of life, she wants Santana in the early mornings when she's sober. Quinn wants the moments Brittany got to have, she doesn't want moments built in secret.
That doesn't mean Quinn doesn't want her, though, because God, how she wants Santana. It's a slow burn in her gut, a deep desire that never gets properly sated. It's a wish but even more than that, its a need.
Santana's makeup free face meets Quinn's curious one moments later before Quinn can properly explain why she's pulled away. Even though Quinn didn't mean it as such and even though she didn't explain why she pulled away, Santana takes Quinn's hesitation as a sign of rejection. What was once a determined gaze from a few minutes earlier crumples far too quickly, tears now springing to Santana's still hazy eyes. Santana puts a hand over her mouth and uses her left hand to brush away the tears that keep falling. "I don't know what I'm doing, Quinn."
"I don't think anyone does," Quinn answers honestly, her fingers itching to touch Santana's skin.
"But I want to know," Santana clarifies, her voice hoarse. "I want to try, I think. With you."
"Okay." Quinn answers quickly, before Santana could burst into another set of tears. "Okay. First, let's get you some water, okay? And then maybe we can have this talk when you're a little bit more...grounded."
Santana nods delicately in response, her hands wrapping around her middle, and it takes all of Quinn's willpower to actually wrap her hand around the door handle instead of around Santana. She succeeds in pulling the door open quickly and shoots Santana a soft smile before tiptoeing out of the room.
She's never been very good at being quiet when it's counted, so she considers it a success when she's able to tiptoe downstairs and find her way into the kitchen for a couple of glasses of water, without one single sound. She's surprised when she passes by Sadie on the couch-the one that's seated right next to the kitchen island- and decides to make a mental note to ask Sadie about it later.
The only thing on her mind is fetching some water and returning to Santana.
Quinn has a conversation waiting for her upstairs. A real, solid, promise to discuss this thing that has grown between them, this thing that has somehow always gotten in the way. For the first time in a long time Quinn has a lead about where things are going and what this thing could turn into, if only her and Santana could just let it freakin' be.
She doesn't want to deter that moment by quelling her curious mind, so she passes by Sadie with a small smile and a quiet promise to settle those curiosities later.
"So did you lock lips and sink ships or did I just spend four hours in the freezing cold listening to Kurt differentiate the difference between friends and friends for nothing?"
It's clear from the disgruntled look on Sadie's face that her current choice of action was to scare the crap out of Quinn (since Quinn wasn't even aware that Sadie had been awake, much less aware of Quinn's presence) because when Quinn jumps in response and has to grip onto the Berry's linoleum counter to keep herself from falling, Sadie sends a slight smirk her way.
When Quinn catches her balance and settles a hand over her racing heart-which, really? This kind of constant pressure around her heart could not be good-, she decides to answer Sadie with some questions of her own. "What are you doing down here? I thought you were with Rachel?"
Sadie sits up from her position on the couch, her outfit from last night is bunched in weird areas across her body, giving her an oddly curvy shape. Her hair is mussed and her makeup is appropriately disarrayed. If she weren't so clearly annoyed, Quinn would make a joke about makeup raccoons. "Wait. Is this the part of the conversation where you finally pretend to be concerned about my well being? Because, honestly Quinn, cut the shit. You left me at that party with Ms. Danny Devito in woman form over there and her hulking, gangling, oaf of a boyfriend." Sadie lifts her hand when Quinn opens her mouth in protest. "Fine. Ex boyfriend. Whatever. I got ditched like thirty minutes into that party and ended up spending the better part of two hours listening to your friend Puck describe his abs in excruciating detail before Kurt showed up. I thought it was Mr. Gay to the rescue until he drunkenly decided it was time for me to catch up on the details of all of your guys's torrid love affairs, as if I'm interested in everything that's happened between this weird little club you guys have created. Not to mention the fact that I had the benefit of falling asleep on this weirdly uncomfortable but totally flattering couch. Like, on a serious note? The Berry men have really good decor taste and I like the way it all flatters my hair… Sadie trails off, her eyes focusing back on Quinn after a minute. "but, anyway. Please don't yank my chain, Quinn. Is this mission finally a fucking go? Or did I just sacrifice another night of my awesome life so you could talk about feelings?"
Quinn sighs, not trying to provoke a clearly irate Sadie. "She kissed me."
Sadie throws her hands up to show her excitement. "Dear lord, my prayers have finally been answered. Did she taste like sunshine with a hint of strawberries? I feel like she'd taste like something delicious."
Quinn's eyes widen in response. "What?"
Sadie waves her right hand at Quinn dismissively. "Nothing. Anyway, when do I get to plan the wedding? Or is that like lesbian third date material?" Sadie taps her finger against her chin thoughtfully. "Or does that even apply here since you guys have basically been secretly dating-except without the actual dating part-since you guys first met?"
"No," Quinn answers with a shrug. "It's not that easy. There are things we need to discuss, you know? I need to know if she's okay and I need to know what happened with Brittany. Like what really happened and if Santana's coping okay in New York. I worry she isn't finding her way and as her best friend it's my job to look out for her." Sadie looks at Quinn in disbelief as Quinn's arms hung limply by her sides. Quinn tilts her head curiously. "What?"
Sadie frowns, her forehead bunching together for the first real time in a long time. "Are you telling me that I slept on this stupid couch, risked obtaining whatever sexual disease that is surely crawling all over that shady Puck character, and ended up waking up with the worst thing in the world, just so you could have a chat that you could have had over the goddamn phone?"
"Was it a spider on your face?" Quinn suggests meekly, her cheeks tinting pink at the memory of similar situation that had befallen on her a few weeks ago. She's not certain where all of this anger is coming from or even why Sadie's directing it at her. So Quinn tries to steer the conversation in a different direction. "Spiders are awfully frightening when they're just chilling on your face without a care in the world."
"What? No!" Sadie exclaims as she stands up from the couch. Her expression oddly grim. Sadie waves her hand in front of her face like she's surprised that it's there. "Fucking sobriety, Quinn. I'm sober as shit right now and it only serves to make me more aggravated, okay? So either go fuck your 'girl-who's-a-friend-except-guess-what-we-wanna-have-sex' lady, or just having a fucking conversation about how you both clearly want inside of each others gay panties, because some people have real struggles about real shit and it's honestly depressing that you guys have been dancing around this crap for this long when it's so clear that you're both in love with each other!" Sadie presses her shaking fingers to her temple and wipes off some sweat that's settled on the top of her brow. "Fucking fuck."
Quinn looks at Sadie in alarm but doesn't move. She's never been very good at handling other people, not when they're like this, not when she actually cares about the other person. So Quinn just stands there and watches as Sadie crouches down, puts her face into her knees, and bursts into tears over...God, over everything, maybe.
And it should be too much, seeing two people she cares about in almost the exact same position in such a short period of time, but it isn't. Instead the sight softens Quinn's heart and gets her to take a step forward.
"You're right." Quinn agrees with a swift nod as Sadie's buries her face further into her hands and knees. She knows that her words aren't any real comfort for whatever Sadie is feeling right now, but Quinn thinks that it can't hurt for Sadie to know that she's right. That Sadie has called this thing from the beginning. That if she's right about this she can be right about the other things too, the things Sadie's never said allowed. So Quinn decides it's time for her to be bold, for her to say the things she didn't really want to, for Quinn to admit defeat and try to pick up whatever pieces she was trying to ignore so hard in the first place. "You're so right, Sadie. I am in love with Santana. I think I always have been." Quinn bites her lip nervously as Sadie's cries start to soften. "I think I always want to be. I'm happy Brittany is gone, isn't that horrible? I'm happy Brittany left her behind because now I get to keep her to myself. You know, it's funny because I've always thought she was something special way before Brittany ever came along. Because she...Santana made me special. She makes me special, Sadie. And I can't let that feeling go, okay? Santana and I have never done things the normal way. I don't think we even know how. But I want this to work...no, I need this to be the time that works, so please...please just stick with me through this. Because I'm almost where I want to be, ya know? And if I can make it past all of my own insane bullshit to find the silver lining, I know that you can too." Sadie snorts in response and Quinn decides that now is the time to finally approach her roommate. She kneels down next to Sadie and pats her knee fondly. "I need you to call me out when I'm being an idiot."
"Which is often," Sadie bites out hoarsely.
Quinn laughs. "Yes, which is often." Quinn nudges Sadie's shoulder affectionately. "And I need to be here for you, when you decide to tell me why you are being an idiot."
Sadie lifts her head up and looks into Quinn's eyes 's eyes are red and her face is covered in smears of makeup and smudges of whatever else. If the roles were reversed, Sadie would make some offtrack joke about racoon eyes and Quinn would have laughed. But things are all kinds of different now. Sadie's sad and Quinn knows it, she's known it for awhile, she's just been waiting patiently for the right time to bring it up.
"Okay," Sadie answers. She swats Quinn's hand away-the one that has awkwardly settled on Sadie's shoulder, her face determined. "See, now this moment has gone from tender to just plain weird. It feels like you're violating my personal space."
"God, you always know how to ruin a perfectly candid moment."
"Tenderness makes me uncomfortable." Sadie says honestly, her eyes focusing on the wall behind Quinn's head. "Bitches snap that shit up like it's a weakness and then use it against you. And then before you know it you're locked in a port-a-potty while it's getting tipped over." Sadie nods knowingly when Quinn shoots her a confused glance. She pushes Quinn away and points towards the stairs. "Anyway, enough about my adventurous life. Go get your girl."
"Okay," Quinn replies. "I'm definitely going to try."
"You do that."
Quinn heads towards the bottom of the staircase before pausing, her hand stretching out in front of her awkwardly. "Hey Sadie?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry if I've been totally oblivious, but you are my friend and I do love you. I love you when you're sober, drunk, or even when you're just plain weird…so don't think that you need to be something other than what you are with me, okay?" Quinn doesn't wait for to hear an answer before bounding up the stairs, two at a time.
When Quinn pushes open the door she's not quite certain what she's expecting, but Santana sitting on Rachel's guest bed still in nothing but her black bra and red boy cotton shorts doesn't quite reach all the scenarios she could have imagined.
She hesitates after shutting the bedroom door because this is unknown territory for her. Unknown, dangerous, sober territory for her. Such a state of want isn't something Quinn's had to fight before and it almost hurts, just how much her fingers are burning to touch the skin on Santana's small waist.
"Where's the water?"
Quinn moves her gaze down to her fidgeting hands and then back towards Santana. "Huh?"
"I thought you were getting water?"
Quinn's hand goes straight to her forehead. "Oh, crap. Yeah. I just…" Quinn trails off because she's not really certain where she was going with all of this. It was easier when it was just an idea but now that the opportunity is standing so...nakedly in front of her. Well, let's just say that Quinn has never been particularly good at not unwrapping her presents. Quinn just continues to stand in silence-or maybe it's awe?- her eyes burning holes into Santana's skin.
Santana clears her throat, her hands in her lap, her mind already forgetting about the water, and her gaze now on the tan carpet beneath her bare feet. "You're my best friend, Quinn."
Quinn swallows thickly, the hair at the nape of her neck is almost bristling. "I know."
Santana nods and licks her lips, her shoulders slumping forward as if she was carrying a heavy burden. "You have to know that I love you so, so much and it's just so confusing. Loving you."
"What does that even mean, Santana?"
Santana throws up her hands in response because she clearly doesn't know either, her body curling forward. "It means that I don't want you to stop being my best friend," Santana clarifies, except her voice doesn't sound as certain as her words. "But I also don't want you wasting your time with any of those skanks. You can do so much better and that's confusing for me, Quinn, because when I saw you kissing that girl in that photo...I just really wanted to kick her in the vagina."
"Okay," Quinn drawls out slowly, her teeth biting her lips nervously. "Is that a good thing?"
"No," Santana answers firmly, her eyes softening when they finally meet Quinn's. "Yes! I mean...I don't know? I really don't know how to separate the love I already have for you and the weird feelings I get in my stomach whenever you're around. It scares me because I don't get it and maybe that's not enough for you right now...but, Quinn, it is something, isn't it? That I want to try to figure this out? With you?"
"Yeah," Quinn agrees, her voice hoarse. "It is something."
Santana nods in confirmation, her face sagging in relief. "Do you think we could make this work?"
"Honestly?" Quinn asks, only continuing after Santana nods again. "I think it's better than the alternative."
"Which is?"
"Pretending like we both don't really want to try." When Santana barks out a short laugh, Quinn knows she's said the right thing. She sighs and settles onto the floor, her legs crossing underneath her. "We really backed ourselves into a corner, didn't we?"
"Well, not to point fingers but I wasn't the one kissing slutty strangers."
Quinn rolls her eyes and does her best not to sound indignant. "This can't happen again, Santana. You need...you need to start talking to me, okay? Because I can't just keep letting this happen. I can't keep letting you do this to me. I want...I want to try with you but I also really need you to try with me, okay?"
Santana sighs heavily, and it's almost suffocating, the way Santana's gaze buries Quinn. "Okay."
Quinn looks over at the clock and sees that it's nearing four in the morning. God, she was going to going to be so tired tomorrow. Tired, but not regretful. Especially since this is a big moment, she's almost sure of it, what's happening between them right now. But there's no champagne and no confetti and no people shouting congratulations, the atmosphere is almost too quiet for a moment this loud. "What happens now?"
"We go slow," Santana answers easily. "Glacier slow, not Berry slow because slow to her is marriage by date three. We go slow and figure out who we are when we're not each others best friends. Who we are when we're...together."
"And Brittany?"
Santana sighs, Quinn's far enough to miss the doubt that flashes in Santana's eyes but not far enough to miss the way she bites the inside of her cheeks. "Brittany and I...are not together. And I know you want answers and I want to give them to you, I do, just...I need you to be a little patient with me."
"Okay," Quinn agrees for the second time in only a few minutes. She smiles softly when an idea pops into her head, something less heavy and more them. "Should we do something?"
"Like what?" Santana asks, clearly confused.
"I dunno," Quinn answers with a shrug. "Throw a party? Update Facebook? I mean, this all seems a little anticlimactic now."
Santana looks at Quinn seriously, her gaze even more focused and determined than before. "It's never anticlimactic when I'm with you."
That's all it take, really, for Quinn to go leaping from her spot on the floor and straight into Santana's steady arms. Santana, unfortunately, is caught off guard and ends up with more hair in her mouth than she does Quinn in her hands. However, it doesn't take Quinn long to maneuver until she's straddling Santana, her hands resting carelessly on the muscles between Santana's hips and waist.
"Quinn." Santana breathes out, her lips inches away from Quinn's. "This isn't really sl-"
Quinn doesn't let her finish, no, instead she places her lips sloppily over Santana's. It's not comfortable, not really, because Santana's lips are chapped and scratching against Quinn's dry ones a little too often. But Quinn doesn't stop. She doesn't stop when her teeth accidentally hit Santana's or when her tongue tastes beer mixed with strawberry flavored vodka-which, gross- or when her hands awkwardly graze Santana's bra clad breast, Santana's nipple hardening at the contact.
It's weird because she's never done this with a girl before and, yeah, it's also weird because it's Santana. It's weird when Quinn shoves her tongue so far into Santana's mouth that she's kind of concerned Santana might be suffocating. (Although, if Santana's soft whimpers were anything to go by, Quinn would have to say that Santana was doing just fine.) It's weird but that doesn't mean it's bad, so when Santana pushes Quinn away until she's lying literally on her back (completely in a daze) Quinn can't help but feel a little confused.
Santana looks down at Quinn a little too seriously, her lips swollen and her eyes darker than Quinn is used to. "That's not slow, Q."
"I'm sorry," Quinn answers, even though she's really not. She doesn't think she'll ever be sorry about making Santana look like this.
"We'll talk about it tomorrow," Santana says with a sigh, her hands reaching for Quinn's clothing. "But now we sleep. Take off your clothes."
Quinn raises her eyebrows playfully and is rewarded with a swat to her shoulder. "You really don't even need to ask."
Santana grabs at Quinn's clothes and helps Quinn pull her top over her head. Santana has way more trouble with her jeans so Quinn does her best to help by lifting her ass into the air. When Santana's satisfied with Quinn's attire (her bra and panties) she shifts over until she's lying on her back, her arms outstretched as if she's welcoming Quinn into a hug. "Come here."
Quinn doesn't ask for confirmation. She just scrambles until her head is settled comfortably on Santana's chest, the heat from Santana's skin warming almost every part of her body. Santana doesn't reach for a blanket, she just wraps her arms around Quinn's shoulders and presses their bodies together until Quinn's certain that there's no space left in between them. "Does this mean I'm, like, your kind-of girlfriend?"
Santana's hands freeze in her hair, and her abdomen muscles tighten. "Um, when you say it like that it sounds so…"
"So...what?" Quinn asks, genuinely curious.
"So gay."
Quinn snorts in response and is quickly overwhelmed by a heavy dose of sweat and Santana. "I mean, if the shoe fits."
Santana's fingers start trailing through Quinn's hair again, her fingers traces light patterns all over Quinn's scalp. "But your shoes don't fit. That's what I'm saying."
"It's not my fault you have the shoe size of a teenage boy," Quinn bites out, her fingers poking Santana in the side.
"Hey," Santana starts sternly, her hands pulling Quinn's fingers away from her hips. "Can't we just be Santana and Quinn? Searching our way through this confusing, best friend, extremely homo-erotic wilderness?"
"Just Santana and Quinn, huh?" Quinn repeats quietly. "I think I like the sound of that."
When Quinn wakes up hours later, it's to a loud phone alarm clock and Santana's limbs sprawled all over hers. It's different than what Quinn's used to, but still good somehow, and the feeling of Santana's arms wrapped tightly around Quinn is almost enough to make up for the fact that she feels like utter shit.
Santana doesn't stir at the sound of someones phone and it doesn't really surprise Quinn. Santana's always been a heavy sleeper. Quinn has seen her sleep through a whole marching parades cadence once, that was definitely an interesting night.
She doesn't want to pull away from Santana's body, not yet, but her stomach makes the decision for her by rumbling loudly in the quiet room. Quinn sighs and decides that now is as good a time of any to stuff her face with food.
She untangles herself from Santana's limbs and tries not to look back as she heads over to her duffel bag, her hands finding shorts and a tank top already set out. Quinn slips them on quickly and opens the door, her feet doing their best to be stay quiet.
She makes it down the stairs as easily as she did last night and is met with the pleasant sight of Rachel finishing up breakfast. Rachel gives her a small wave before pointing over towards Sadie's sleeping body. Quinn nods in response and then let's her eyes scan over the breakfast contents. There's french toast, coffee, hash browns, eggs, and oh-did she just see bacon? Quinn doesn't even muster out a simple good morning, instead she heads over towards Rachel's kitchen island and grabs a few strips of bacon. It's like heaven, the taste that takes over her mouth, and Quinn doesn't ever want it to stop.
Rachel looks a tad bit horrified at the sight of Quinn consuming what was probably a whole package of bacon. She puts her hand on Quinn's wrist when Quinn decides to stop for a moment so that she can breathe. "Should I have made more bacon?"
"Rule number one, Berry." Santana says from behind Quinn. If Rachel is surprised by Santana's presence, she doesn't show it. Instead she grabs and then places a plate down next to Quinn. Quinn glances over her shoulder and lets herself take in the sight of Santana in boxers and an over-sized sweatshirt. It's beautiful because it's Santana and Quinn can't help it that she's so clearly staring. Santana shoots Quinn a grin and it almost makes her feel as good as the bacon. "Always make more bacon."
"Noted," Rachel responds, her eyes focusing on the sight of Quinn shoving far more pork than she probably should into her mouth. "Oh my gosh, Quinn. Are you even chewing?!"
"Quinn doesn't chew bacon, she inhales," Sadie answers with a yawn, her feet carrying her through the kitchen. "Nice cooking skills, Rachel." Sadie says with a slight bow.
"Did you just curtsy?" Santana asks, her eyes shining with amusement. Santana sits down on the stool that's on Quinn's right. Or rather, the middle stool. Quinn isn't paying much attention, her gaze is focused on the bowl of bacon and the hunger in her belly.
Sadie shrugs. "I mean, it only makes sense. Shit," Sadie curses before places a hand on her tummy. "I really need to pee."
"Such a charmer," Santana remarks loudly as Sadie walks bye, her feet carrying her over to the bathroom. "Don't you think so, Rach?"
Rachel doesn't say answer and it immediately makes Santana suspicious because, when has Rachel Berry ever avoided hearing the sound of her own voice? It's so unlike Rachel, the way her gaze lands on everything in the room except for where Sadie was just moments earlier. At first, Santana is almost certain she's imagining it. It is early and she is still riding out her ridiculously stupid high from last night-err, morning. But then Sadie strolls back into the kitchen and proceeds to pour herself a cup of coffee before heading back over towards the couch, and Rachel still refuses to look anywhere Sadie is.
"Okay, master of disguise," Santana calls out, her curiosity getting the best of her. She waves her hand in the direction of Sadie. "What the hell is that about?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." Rachel brushes off, busying herself with the silverware next to her.
"Clearly, she's in a massive state of shock-due to my dashing good looks, of course." Sadie interrupts, her body sliding into the empty stool to Santana's right. Sadie gives Quinn a quick smile before gesturing down at her wrinkled dress. "And clearly awesome breakfast attire."
Rachel doesn't respond, she just looks at her feet sheepishly.
Sadie rolls her eyes and slams her palms down onto the kitchen counter to get Rachel's attention. It works because Rachel's alert eyes find Sadie's tired ones. "God, Rachel, it's fine that you ditched me at that party for that giant majestic creature. You guys have history and all I have is my charm."
"And your good looks," Quinn chimes in around a mouthful of bacon. She swallows a couple more strips before continuing. "Don't forget about those."
"Yes. Obvs," Sadie agrees with a wave of her hand. She turns towards Santana and gingerly places her hand on Santana's shoulder, reassuringly. "As tempting as all of this is," Sadie says while her hand gestures up and down her body. "Your girl only has eyes for you. Well, and bacon."
"Shopping!" Rachel blurts out before Santana could properly respond, her hands moving in flurries around her body as she begins to talk. "We still need to go shopping for Thanksgiving food!"
Santana looks like she wants to say something, but Quinn completely beats her there by muffling some words around another mouthful of pork." Isf therre any wphay wee culd get morre bakin?"
Rachel looks relieved, obviously looking for a distraction. Santana curious, her eyes traveling back between Sadie and Rachel an her hand settling on Quinn's thigh. And Sadie? She just looks determined to move on, her fingers tapping anxiously on the counter. It's clear Quinn has interrupted a moment without realizing it. Quinn looks around the kitchen at all her friends-well, and her...Santana-and can't help but feel a little confused at all of their facial expressions. She's so obviously oblivious to the moment. "What? Did I disrupt a moment?"
Nobody answers Quinn's question. Instead, Rachel grabs her purse, Santana grabs Quinn's hand, and Sadie grabs an apple before following Rachel out the door. It's weird, but Quinn gets this feeling as they head out towards Rachel's car, that they all sort of wish their answers were as easy to say out loud as her question.