Sins of My Youth (8/10)
Title: Sins of My Youth (8/10)
Author: only_because3
Rating: I'd say M
Pairing: Santana/Brittany, Quinn/Puck, Quinn/Santana
Word Count: 6299
Summary: "God, that's such complete bullshit, especially coming from you." Quinn pulls her hand back sharply as Santana takes in a big gulp of air to continue. "Not winning prom queen is going to make you feel even more insecure about yourself for like, ever, even though that stupid piece of plastic doesn't mean shit. Brittany is my best friend. I've known her since we were eight. She's always going to matter, more so now that she… That I'm… That." She squeezes her eyes shut, still unable to say it out loud because there is no coming back from that. She's not a Fabray, even though she has spent the entire summer thus far in their house. She can't acknowledge something and then pretend it didn't happen.
Author's Note: Look! An update! Hopefully these should be a bit more consistant as I recently got laid off BUT school also just started back up so we shall see! Anyway, I'm hoping this chapter goes over well because I was a bit iffy on how in character our ladies were towards the end. Thanks to Az for reading this over for me. Enjoy!
--
She doesn’t think she can be alone today.
For a minute, she debates asking Quinn if she can tag along with her to work but then she finds herself reminding Quinn that she needed to tell Puck about the kid. Quinn may get the literal and metaphorical nudge if Santana went, but she realizes now that this isn’t something she can bully her way through. Quinn needs to do this herself and, well, Santana supposes she should learn how to stand firmly on her own two feet again.
She texts her mom shortly after Quinn leaves and they make plans for dinner. She was hoping for something a little sooner but her mom is still a doctor and has to work to pay for the giant house that no one seems to live in anymore.
Sighing, Santana slumps down on the edge of the side of the bed. There’s clothes scattered around the room but other than that, Quinn’s room is annoyingly clean. It won’t take her more than five minutes to pick up the room and god damn this is frustrating. Before Brittany cut her out, she was able to just sit in Quinn’s room all day, passing her time writing and watching shit tv. It shouldn’t be any different now.
She decides to head over to Mitch’s as she’s getting dressed but once she’s downstairs (which is significantly cooler than upstairs), cursing filters from the kitchen.
Judy is kneeling on the counter, all of the cabinet doors open and an array of dishes are stacked on the island. Uncharacteristically, Judy is wearing slacks instead of a dress or skirt and Santana thinks that she’s not even wearing make up. The older woman practically growls as she rips what looks like wallpaper off the bottom of the cabinet she’s in front of. “Are you okay,” Santana asks, actually feeling bad when Judy jumps a little.
Carefully sitting down, Judy sighs. “Sorry. As I was getting ready this morning, work just seemed like an awful idea but then, so did doing nothing,” Judy explains, balling up the ruined paper. “So I decided to re-line the shelves since they’ve been the same since we moved in and you know what I remembered?” Santana shakes her head even though she’s 75% sure that was a rhetorical question. “I can’t line shelves to save my life.” Judy kind of laughs then and hops down. “It’s too fucking difficult.” Santana’s eyes widen and Judy picks up a stack of plates; the plain white square ones that she uses on a regular basis. “I told Russell that we needed to slow things down last night.”
She falls in line next to Judy, grabbing the bowls from the counter and sets them to the right of the plates. “What’d he say?”
Judy picks up one of the glasses, the bottoms square to match the rest of the dishware, and uses the end of her blouse to buff out a smudge on the rim. “He hung up on me,” she announces almost proudly and when Santana looks at the older woman, Judy wears a smile. “He called me back at one in the morning and apologized. I don’t think he’s ever apologized to me.”
Santana takes the cup, starting a straight line as best she can with the cups Judy passes to her. “You didn’t really waste any time after our talk,” Santana says evenly and Judy shakes her head like she’s unaware of the way Santana’s inspecting her.
“We’d been talking for nearly an hour and not once did he bring up Quinn.” Judy’s hand finds purchase on her hip, now simply watching as Santana continues to put the contents of the cupboard back. “I spent half the night worrying if I should go in and talk to my daughter and the only thing he was worried about was when he’d see me next.” Judy sighs and rubs her temple. Santana notices that the wedding ring she spotted the day before has already disappeared from Judy’s slender fingers. “For the first time, that didn’t sit well with me.”
Santana nods and closes the cupboard that is once again filled with pristine dishes. “And after he apologized for hanging up on you?”
“We fought some more.” Judy’s voice remains upbeat and Santana thinks Judy’s missing the point of standing up for herself.
Santana hops on to the counter where Judy had been when she first walked in. “So...” Judy stares at her like some sort of show dog and Santana sighs. “Is this just going to be a cycle? You’ve done this once before, right after Quinn gave-”
Judy shakes her head, body rigid as she puts her hands up. “No,” bursts out of Judy’s mouth and Santana moves around the kitchen, closing everything so it not longer looks like Paranormal Activity 2.
“God damn Fabray women,” Santana mutters under her breath. She rounds the island, holding her head in her hands as she stares at Judy, whose smile finally slips. “I’m glad you stood up to Russell.”
Judy’s cheeks twitch. “But I still don’t know what I’m doing.” Santana nods and Judy sighs, picking up her mug and walking over to the coffee pot.
“You can’t even bring up the-”
“I know,” Judy shouts, Santana’s eyes widening. “I’m sorry but… Please, just don’t.”
“You guys have got to stop ignoring shit.”
Judy pours herself coffee, dark liquid splashing over the rim. Santana can see the steam floating from the cup and when the coffee hits Judy’s fingers it should hurt her, but the blonde doesn’t even flinch. “After I gave birth to Quinn’s sister, I spoke to a therapist.” Santana stays quiet while Judy sips her coffee. It surprises her that Judy takes it black. “Russell didn’t like it at all but I was suffering from post partum and I couldn’t medicate.” Santana runs her hand through her hair, bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from something bitchy. “I only went a few times but it helped… Maybe it could help now.”
Judy looks to Santana for confirmation and, god, Santana didn’t realize that she was going to be the adult of the house when she started shacking up here. “What do you have to lose?”
“Russell and Quinn won’t like it,” Judy says as she drums her nails on the ceramic cup.
The clock above the sink reads 10 and she knows if she doesn’t leave soon, she’ll melt before she gets to Mitch’s. “I’m going to have dinner with my mom tonight so maybe you should try talking to Quinn then,” Santana throws out there as she stands up.
“You don’t want to be here for the show,” Judy teases and Santana rolls her eyes before giving Judy a small smile.
“Good luck.”
--
Puck comes in not too long after Santana texts her saying she’s actually going home for the night. “You okay,” he asks when he finds her sunk into a beanbag chair in the kids section.
She nods, giving him a small smile as he sits down next to her. “Just a lot of stuff happened.”
“Want to talk about it?” He pulls Goodnight Moon from the bookshelf next to him, flipping through the cardboard pages once she shakes her head.
They slip into the routine that’s been established over the past few weeks. They talk about mostly everything as they move around the store and she smiles a lot more than she has in a while. Santana’s voice is in the back of her head though, telling her that this isn’t right, but how is she supposed to give this up? It’s been so long since she felt something close to happiness. She knows it’s selfish as hell but-
A woman walks into the shop with a toddler on her hip and Puck stops mid-sentence when he sees them. “If you need anything, let me know,” Quinn greets from behind the desk. She feels that phantom flutter again, low in her belly, and she pushes herself flush against the wood, creating different pressure points to try and confuse her body. It’s quiet between them, uncomfortable so, and she turns the radio up a little louder. She can still hear the kid babbling to it’s mother down one of the aisles and it freezes her up. Puck’s watching her as he continues, slowly, sorting the books. She closes her eyes. “Why didn’t you see her without me?”
He takes one of her hands in his, more careful with her than he’s been in a long time. He would’ve treated Beth with the utmost tenderness. Suddenly guilt starts weighing her down. “I tried,” he answers honestly. She opens her eyes just in time to see him shrug. “It’s scary alone.” She nods, even though she’d use a much stronger word than scary. “Didn’t feel right without you.” Those words nip at her and she almost tells him then.
'Wonderful Tonight' starts playing on the radio as Puck flattens her hand with his. She squeezes his hand, trying to force words passed the lump in her throat, but he walks around the cart of books he’s been going through, their clasped hands in the air. “Remember when you’d let me do this?”
She smirks, his arm wrapping around her waist. “Begrudgingly,” she answers as she places her free hand on his shoulder.
“You always pretended it annoyed you,” he comments, pulling away just enough to spin her.
“Sometimes it did. I would be trying to do homework and you’d want me to dance.”
“S’cause that’s one of the only times you’d actually smile.”
She goes a little stiff in his arms but lets him pull her close. Quinn clears her throat. “Wasn’t able to get this close before.” Puck shakes his head, his hand patting her skirt just above her ass. “You should go see her,” she whispers, ducking her head underneath his chin.
She feels him move underneath her. “Will you come with me?” His voice cracks just so and the song ends, moving on to a commercial for the drive in on the edge of town.
She wonders if she’ll ever be able to not let him down.
She turns around, lowering the radio before repining her hair, just to keep her hands busy. “I can’t.”
Crying comes from one of the aisles and, haggard, the mom darts towards the door as she rubs the baby’s back.
--
She’s prepared to disappear upstairs as soon as she gets home. Her mom, however, is coming out of the living room as Quinn walks through the door, the kitchen timer keeping loudly. “I hope you didn’t make a lot,” Quinn says as she tosses her keys into the bowl in the hall. “Santana wo-”
“I know,” Judy cuts in, hand careful ling checking to make sure her hair is pulled back smoothly. “I thought we could eat at the table tonight.” Quinn looks over at the formal dining set and shakes her head. She hasn’t sat at the table in over a year and she doesn’t think she’ll start now. “I’d really like to eat together, Quinn.”
Her attention snaps back to her mom, the beeping getting louder. “We can eat at the island.” The smile on her mom’s face is too hopeful. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”
“Come down after. Everything should be done then,” Judy calls out as she takes off to the kitchen.”
--
Normally she wouldn’t bother putting make up on but she can’t remember the last time she ate alone with her mother and a perfect face is the best shield she’ll get right now.
Judy’s all ready set two places at the island, some sort of casserole in front of the plate, rice and beans in a side dish. Their glasses are empty but Quinn can see the print of her mother’s lips along the rim of her wine glass.
“What’d you like to drink,” Judy asks from inside the fridge.
Quinn hesitantly sits down. “Just water.” She moves her place setting and chair away from her mom just a little bit more.
Her mom fills their cups with water before finally settling down next to Quinn. “I saw this recipe a little while back but never got around to trying it,” Judy explains as she cuts out a decent size square and slides it on to Quinn’s plate. “It’s kind of a deconstructed enchilada dish.”
Quinn pokes at the square, pulling a little bit of cheese off the top. Her mom continues talking about nothing Quinn cares about. She waits until her mom has filled their plates before she sets her fork down. “What is all this?”
Her mom stops mid sentence. She smoothes out the napkin in her lap before turning in her seat to look at Quinn for the first time since she sat down. Simply, Judy answers, “Dinner.” Quinn can’t stop the way her eyes narrow and her mom swallows audibly. “We need to talk.”
Quinn stabs at the casserole on her plate. “We’re not the type of family that does that.”
“Maybe we should be.” Quinn glances at her mom and though Judy looks calm, her knuckles are white around her glass. “I want us all to go counseling.”
Quinn’s shaking her head before Judy even finishes the sentence. “Absolutely not.”
Her mom quirks an eyebrow. “That’s exactly what your father said.”
“Well I did used to be his favorite before he decided I didn’t exist,” Quinn spits, pushing away from the counter.
“Obviously that’s something that needs to be discussed. A lot of things need to be dealt with so that-”
“So that what? We can pretend that we’re a big happy family until Daddy cheats on you again and you slip back into drinking two bottles of wine a day?” Judy tries to catch her hand but Quinn puts her arms up. “And I spend the next year worrying that anything I do will get me kicked out? God, you’ll probably send me back to church.”
“What do you want then, Quinn?” Her mother’s voice is loud and upset but surprisingly not angry. Judy throws her napkin on her plate before turning in her seat so she can look Quinn in the eye. Judy folds her hands in her lap, her breathing a little ragged. “Is continuing on like we have been preferable to you? I’m trying to fix things but it seems like you’re content with blaming me for the rest of your life.” There’s bite in her words and Quinn fists her hands at her side as she takes another step away from her mother.
She still has to live another year in this house, one more year until she can get out of this stupid town, and so she bites down on her tongue until she tastes blood. She will not say what she wants because the fear of getting thrown out of this house again stands next to her like a shadow.
Judy takes a breath, sagging in her chair. “Just go once. Please.”
Quinn can feel herself shaking her head before she realizes it and Judy runs a hand through her hair, ruining her perfect French twist. “If he’s going to be there…” Quinn wraps her arms around her waist. “No.” She feels nauseous and she wishes that there was a better escape than an empty room upstairs, a better escape outside of Lima.
“If your father doesn’t go,” Judy asks and Quinn doesn’t know what to do other than shrug.
“I need to just…” She closes her eyes and feels like screaming. “I’m going upstairs.”
“Qu-”
“Give. Me. Time,” she grits out, not once pausing when she finally turns to leave the room.
--
Santana expects no one to be at her house when she finally gets there around 4. It’s why she puts on a new record (though it’s not really new because it’s Tragic Kingdom) and turns the volume up. She can feel the music under her skin, allowing her to smile for the first time in days. But then, just before Spiderwebs breaks into the chorus, the sound cuts out, replaced with, “Hey there, Boo Boo, Surprised to see you here.”
She tucks the pack of cigarettes she was fishing out from between her mattresses back, turning around with a smile. “I’d say the same to you, Dad. I thought you’d still be at work.”
He shakes his head, slipping his hands into the pockets on his slacks. “Your mom told me you were joining us for dinner tonight. Seemed like a good enough excuse to get off early. I feel like I haven’t seen you all summer, mija.”
“S’cause you haven’t.” She doesn’t say it to be cruel, she actually doesn’t care that her parents work insane hours because it keeps her safe, but she watches guilt fill her father’s eyes anyway. “It’s okay, Dad.”
He sighs, shaking his head the tiniest bit, before rolling back his shoulders. “Let’s go catch a movie. By the time we’re out, your mom can join us for dinner.”
Movies put the perfect amount of distance between them (allows her time with her father but leaves no room for questions and lies). “Only if we can get popcorn.”
--
Dinner is not eaten in near silence like it is at Quinn’s. Instead, almost everything that’s said is used as fuel for an argument that feels like it’s lasted Santana’s entire life. It’s so rare that the three of them are actually together that she hasn’t built up a tolerance; Their words don’t turn into white noise and she hears every bitchy comment loud and clear.
Santana stabs a crouton and a leaf of lettuce when her mom slams her glass on the table. Phyllis, who is undoubtedly Santana’s favorite waitress, starts to walk over to check on them but Santana smiles, subtly shaking her head. She doesn’t want to create an even bigger scene.
Her father huffs and tosses his napkin on the table before pushing back his chair. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
Her mother rolls her eyes and clears her throat. “Never should’ve told him about our dinner plans,” Mrs. Lopez mutters. “But then I never would’ve heard the end of that.” Even though Santana’s fairly sure her father isn’t done with his salad, her mother stacks her empty plate on top of his and passes them to Phyllis when she passes. “Are you not friends with Brittany anymore, mija?” Santana takes a long drink from her water to avoid the question. “I only ask because, well, you don’t normally like Quinn.”
“I like Quinn,” she answers but her mother raises a questioning brow. “She wasn’t my favorite person but…” Santana shrugs. Quinn is her friend now, she just can’t explain to her mother how exactly that happened. She’s not entirely sure she could explain it if she wanted to anyway.
Her mother puts her hands up to show no ill will and then looks over her shoulder for Mr. Lopez. “I like Quinn more anyway,” her mother says casually and Santana realizes very quickly that Mrs. Lopez is purposely not holding eye contact with her. “She’s more up to par…”
Santana fists her hands around her napkin. “Brittany’s not stupid.”
Mrs. Lopez looks at her finally, eyes wide. “No, she’s not. But Quinn is better suited-”
“Mom,” Santana barks and she tries not to notice the few heads that turn, once again, to look at their table. “Stop talking about Brittany.”
“Mija, I was just saying.” Her mother uses the same tone she uses when she speaks to Mr. Lopez. “There is no need to get so snippy.”
Santana rolls her eyes. Her father returns to the table and she turns almost completely away from her mother. “Do you think we could fit in another movie before I go back to school,” she asks and a smile spreads beneath his graying moustache.
“Of course, Boo Boo. You gotta let me know ahead of time though.” She nods as Phyllis sets their plates down. Santana glances over to where her mother is obviously pouting. Mrs. Lopez looks at her food with disgust but then something flashes across her eyes.
“Did your sister call you today?”
Her father’s fork slips from his hand and he instantly starts murmuring in Spanish the way he used to when she was in trouble as a child. “Can you believe it,” he shouts, his face flushed when he finally looks up.
Her mother puts her hand on his arm, ushering him to lower his voice. “I told you that no teenage boy is that nice without a secret or two.”
Santana blinks between the two, cautiously nibbling on a breadstick. “What happened?”
“It’s so disgusting,” Mr. Lopez spits and her mother nods.
“Aunt Maria caught John with a boy from his basketball team.” Santana snaps the breadstick in two, her stomach lurching. “His hand was-” Her mother stops short and shakes her head, hand going to her throat. “I can’t even say it.”
Santana drops the breadstick on her plate and then wipes her sweaty hands on her jeans. “What-” Her father starts to lean across the table when her voice cracks but she scoots back before he can touch her. “What did she do?”
“Kicked his ass out,” her father says, almost proud. “She couldn’t let him keep sharking a room with Gabriel.” Mr. Lopez scoffs, running his hand over his hair. “Could you imagine what John could’ve been telling him? Could’ve been doing?”
Mrs. Lopez clucks her tongue. “John wouldn’t touch his brother,” she asserts but that’s the only thing she deems needing correction.
Everything starts fading out then. Her father keeps talking about how utterly revolting his own flesh and blood is, her mother nodding her head in agreement. John is 16 and even though they have a lot of family in Lima, none of them would take him in, not now. “I shouldn’t have brought this up during dinner,” her mother says amidst the vile coming from Mr. Lopez’s mouth. “We’ve all lost our appetites.” She motions to Santana’s barely touched plate before pushing her own away.
Santana can’t breathe but she doesn’t gasp, doesn’t leave, just succumbs to this drowning until Phyllis comes over to their table. “Is everything okay,” she asks and her father doesn’t even shut up then, just lowers his voice even more.
“Could we get some boxes,” her mother asks politely and Santana is surprised she makes it to the bathroom to throw up.
--
Santana isn’t smiling when she opens Quinn’s bathroom door. Quinn looks up, her hands still pulling her hair up into a bun on top of her head. Santana stares at her for a moment before pulling off her shirt and kicking off her flip flops. It’s kind of weird seeing Santana so dressed down, in things that are loose and relaxed, and not something that molds to every curve of her body, but Santana has always been respectful when it comes to her parents and that means not dressing like she normally does in their presence. Santana unbuttons her jeans and shoves them to her feet, stepping out of them as she reaches around and unhooks her bra.
Quinn finds Santana’s relationship with her parents odd. Santana’s sort of always kept them at arms length which was for the best, Quinn guesses, because they worked so much, but close at the same time. Quinn’s never seen both of Santana’s parents at the same time but she has witnessed real conversations in the Lopez family and more love than Quinn thought could exist in a family.
She bends her legs and Santana slides open the glass doors, stepping into the tub. Quinn gnaws on the inside of her cheek, debating if she should even ask why Santana’s here, but instead just watches her friend sink into the water, keeping her own legs close to her. “My mom left you a plate in the fridge,” Quinn says neutrally, picking up the book she had set down to pull her hair up.
“What’d you have?” Santana’s voice is rough and strained, not bitchy or cocky like it normally is. Quinn’s eyes flick to Santana’s over the top of her book, noting that they’re neither glazed over or red.
“Some sort of casserole.” Santana runs a hand through her hair and Quinn bookmarks her page before tossing the book back down, this time near Santana’s discarded jeans, when she notices that Santana’s hand is shaking.
“You ate didn’t you? How do you not know what kind of casserole it was?” Santana’s eyebrow is arched and Quinn’s never really considered it before, but she thinks she might have learned that from her. When Quinn was transforming herself into Quinn, she found herself copycatting different people. Copied her mother, her sister, other girls she’d see at the mall who she assumed were popular and obviously pretty. She watched ‘Mean Girls’ and clearly took away the wrong message, but at 14, she knew that while it was a realistic depiction of high school life, the ending was complete bullshit.
When she first met Santana at cheer camp the summer before freshmen year, Quinn recognized her as a threat to the new persona she created. Santana was pretty and secure and clearly someone looking to be in charge. She remembers Santana, with her eyebrow arched and arms folded harshly across her chest while Brittany introduced them, and how she frightened and intrigued Quinn at the same time. Lucy would’ve stayed in her place among the other faceless fat girls who somehow made it on to Sylvester’s squad at the mere sight of that eyebrow. Quinn, however, rolled her shoulders and somehow put Santana in her place over the course of six weeks. And maybe even stole that eyebrow thing along the way.
Quinn shrugs. “I didn’t really eat it,” she admits, sinking lower into the water. “My mom asked me to go to therapy with her and Russell.”
Santana stretches out her legs, feet running along Quinn’s hips when they’re fully extended. The tub isn’t big by any means, and she’s glad that it keeps Santana closer to her without making her seem too concerned. “Yeah, I gave your mom the head’s up that I’d be gone.” Santana licks her lips. “How’d it go?”
“Did you see my mom when you came in,” she asks and Santana dips her head. Quinn’s hands find Santana’s shins under the soapy water. “Fiction.”
Santana lets out a heavy sigh and Quinn thinks that, for once, she won’t participate in their coward’s game. But then Santana mutters, “I had a wonderful dinner with my parents.” She closes her eyes and lets her head lull against the tile wall. “Fact.”
Quinn bites her bottom lip, taking in all of Santana she can see. She can only see from the ribs up, and her eyes trail the pink scar tissue that’s still visible between Santana’s chest. Santana isn’t as insecure about her scars as Quinn is about hers, since hers are attached to new, bigger boobs and Quinn’s are on a stomach that won’t go flat. “Your boobs look nice.” Santana’s eyes open immediately and Quinn can’t fight the small smile she gets when Santana manages to smirk a little bit.
“My boobs are always amazing.” Her voice kind of cracks again and Quinn squeezes the skin beneath her fingertips. “Dinner was okay. Probably a lot better than any dinner you’ve hand with Judy but…” She lets out a heavy sigh and shakes her head. “I guess my cousin John is gay too.”
Quinn drags her nails along Santana’s tan skin. “I’m guessing your parents weren’t very fond of that.”
Santana scoffs and ducks her head again. “I’ve never heard my father speak like that before.” Quinn tugs on Santana’s legs, silently urging her to come closer, but Santana shakes her head. “No. It’s fine. I’m sure you had a worse night and you shouldn’t be deflecting or whatever the fuck it is you’re doing now.”
“Shut up,” Quinn says, punctuating her words with a slap against Santana’s knees. “If you want we can talk about my horrible dinner but I think you need this more.” Santana rolls her eyes but this time when Quinn leans forward, Santana lets Quinn take her shaking hands and pull her, more or less, in her lap.
“If you wanted to fuck me again, all you had to do was ask.” Quinn swats her again but this time on Santana’s ass. “Wanky.”
“Are you close with your cousin,” Quinn asks, trying to ignore the way Santana’s eyes are starting to gloss over.
She shakes her head. “Not at all. We make awkward conversation at family gatherings. I don’t even have his cell phone num-” Santana’s words lodge in her throat and even though she doesn’t cry, her legs wrap tightly around Quinn. “My aunt kicked him out and I can’t stop thinking about the fact that this kid is out there, roaming Lima without anywhere to go… And how that kid could be me.” She thinks about lying, about assuring Santana that her cousin is fine, but Quinn knows no better than her. Santana brings her hands up to cover her face, fingertips digging into her eyes in a way that must hurt, and just when Quinn decides she has to do something (be it say something or simply pull Santana’s hands away), Santana shakes her head, her hands falling back into the water with a splash. “I think therapy could be good for you guys.”
“Unlikely. I can barely say what’s in my head to you and you expect me to share that with a stranger and my parents?”
Quinn shakes her head as she stretches, pulling her arms over her head and a few drops of water fall on to Santana’s face. A single droplet catches along the side of Santana’s nose and it travels down to her lips where Santana catches it with her tongue. Santana is still shaking and Quinn thinks of bringing her closer; Right now there is still plenty of space between them and though she really just wants to hold Santana the way she was held yesterday in the very same shower, her mind thinks about what it’d be like to be pressed against Santana like that. She’s had sex with two people now but she never embraced either of them in such an intimate way. The only other person who comes close is the child that came from her body and that only serves to scare her away from holding another person like that.
Santana slides her arms around Quinn’s neck once Quinn’s hands return to Santana’s waist. “Bargain with Judy. Maybe if you have some one on one with a shrink first, she’ll… I don’t know. Make sure Russell stays out of your group sessions for a bit?”
“I’ll think about it,” Quinn answers as Santana slides a little closer until there is no space between them and Quinn can feel slick skin against hers.
“Are you okay with this?” Santana’s eyes flick down to where their chests press together. It almost seems like an out of body experience; Quinn knows those are her breasts but then there are others there too, hard nipples and firmer, tanner flesh pressed against them, and this is never anything she thought she’d see. Quinn notices Santana chewing on the inside of her lip. Nodding, Quinn wraps her arms tightly around Santana and she feels the brunette exhale against her shoulder. “I’m really surprised this isn’t weird for you.” Santana is silent for a beat before she says, “But then again, you really surprised me when you fucked me so I guess this should be like seeing a cross around your neck.” Quinn knuckle punches Santana just below her ribs and Santana yelps, slapping Quinn’s shoulders. “Ow, you bitch! You know I had a shitty day and then you abuse me?”
“We both had crappy days and you’re ruining whatever semblance of a moment we were having.”
Santana rolls her eyes before pushing herself away from Quinn. She stands up then and, naturally, laughs when she notices Quinn’s blushing. “You seemed pretty eager to have your face down there a few days ago,” Santana says, hands falling to her hips as she smirks down at Quinn.
Quinn’s eyebrows drop but she continues to stare at Santana’s face rather than what’s directly in front of her. “If I didn’t think you’d enjoy it, I’d twat swat you right now.” Santana snorts as she steps out of the tub, sidestepping Quinn’s book at the last second.
“I never thought I’d hear you say twat.” Santana digs underneath the sink before pulling out a spare towel. “And you didn’t even think twice about smacking my ass earlier and I can tell you that I certainly like that.”
Quinn watches as Santana dries off her torso before toweling off her legs. She’s stopped shaking and the tears Quinn was terrified would fall retreated before Santana even stood up. But Santana still chews on the inside of her lip and it’s bugging Quinn more than she thought it would. “Do you want to drink tonight?”
“I figured I’d save getting wasted on a Tuesday till college,” Santana answers, tossing Quinn the towel when she stands up.
Santana goes about the bathroom, pulling out a wet cloth to remove her make up and then fishing a hair tie out of the pocket of her jeans. Quinn simply watches with the towel tucked around her and it’s not until Santana looks at her questioningly that she asks, “Do you want to have sex?”
She’s not sure if it surprises her or not that Santana doesn’t even flinch once the question leaves her mouth. “With you?” Quinn’s shoulders drop just enough for Santana’s eyes to widen. “Oh god, I only asked because we said we weren’t going to do that again. Please don’t get a complex.”
Quinn sits down on the toilet and picks up Santana’s clothes, folding them on her lap. “I slept with you because I wanted to make you feel better and you still seem… off. And I know that booze and sex help you the most.” She glances at Santana who is simply staring at her and Quinn drops the stack of clothes on to the counter. “Forget it.”
“Having sex with a friend is what got me feeling so shitty,” Santana says when Quinn stands up.
“It was a stupid suggestion.” Quinn smiles a bit when Santana looks at her and pulls her hair out of its bun. “Come on. We’ll watch bad reality tv like normal people.”
--
She doesn’t know what time it is but she’s been laying in complete silence since Quinn turned off the tv a while ago. Quinn hasn’t moved next to her but her breathing hasn’t fallen into the pattern Santana’s grown accustom to over the past few months.
What happened at dinner tonight is not what’s keeping her up, she knows that. Her parents didn’t surprise her in the least bit and, yes, she’s mildly worried about her cousin. But she knows that he’s likely already figured some where out to go and that, if need be, she could give herself peace of mind with a call to CPS the next morning.
Quinn’s fingers flex against her stomach and Santana looks over at her. They barely said anything once they collapsed on Quinn’s bed. It feels like a step back and she sighs loud enough for Quinn to peek open an eye. “Are we okay?”
Sleepily, Quinn murmurs, “You ask that too much,” before rolling away from Santana.
“That’s because we fuck up like crazy,” Santana says, fingers wrapping around Quinn’s elbow. “I’ll have sex with you.”
“Don’t sound so excited,” Quinn drawls. “I don’t have to sleep with you, Santana.”
Santana pulls Quinn’s arm but the bitch stays rooted to her spot. “Look,” Santana starts, straddling Quinn’s hip. The blonde lightly punches her in the stomach but Santana catches her hand. “Do you want me to say that I’ll fuck you? Because, yes, we’re friends, but in case you haven’t looked in a mirror, you’re insanely hot. No, you’re gorgeous. Having sex with you will not be a chore. But we’re also all we have, Quinn. I can’t lose you.” Quinn rolls so that she’s flat on her back but Santana stays where she’s at, eyeing Santana carefully. She feels like she’s being inspected and, god, she hates that she can’t read Quinn. “So if you honestly think that we can do this like Puck and I used to, then we can. But you have to fucking promise me that this won’t get weird.”
Quinn stays silent before the corner of her lips quirk up just a bit. “That sounded like a more vulgar version of a speech from ‘A Walk to Remember’.”
Santana pinches Quinn’s side. “I’m being serious, ass!”
Quinn laughs a little and pushes Santana off her. “We don’t have to have sex.” Quinn lets out a breath. “It was a bright spot,” she says quietly, burrowing her face into her pillow. “That’s all.”
Quinn goes to roll away from her again but this time she stops when Santana hooks her hand underneath the strap of her tank top. She can’t think of anything else to do right now and so she kisses Quinn, running her tongue lightly over Quinn’s lip. She intends to leave it as that, intends to roll over and actually try to sleep now, but instead she finds her hands tangling in blonde hair that’s different but not new, her leg fitting between creamy thighs she’s never experienced.
Author: only_because3
Rating: I'd say M
Pairing: Santana/Brittany, Quinn/Puck, Quinn/Santana
Word Count: 6299
Summary: "God, that's such complete bullshit, especially coming from you." Quinn pulls her hand back sharply as Santana takes in a big gulp of air to continue. "Not winning prom queen is going to make you feel even more insecure about yourself for like, ever, even though that stupid piece of plastic doesn't mean shit. Brittany is my best friend. I've known her since we were eight. She's always going to matter, more so now that she… That I'm… That." She squeezes her eyes shut, still unable to say it out loud because there is no coming back from that. She's not a Fabray, even though she has spent the entire summer thus far in their house. She can't acknowledge something and then pretend it didn't happen.
Author's Note: Look! An update! Hopefully these should be a bit more consistant as I recently got laid off BUT school also just started back up so we shall see! Anyway, I'm hoping this chapter goes over well because I was a bit iffy on how in character our ladies were towards the end. Thanks to Az for reading this over for me. Enjoy!
--
She doesn’t think she can be alone today.
For a minute, she debates asking Quinn if she can tag along with her to work but then she finds herself reminding Quinn that she needed to tell Puck about the kid. Quinn may get the literal and metaphorical nudge if Santana went, but she realizes now that this isn’t something she can bully her way through. Quinn needs to do this herself and, well, Santana supposes she should learn how to stand firmly on her own two feet again.
She texts her mom shortly after Quinn leaves and they make plans for dinner. She was hoping for something a little sooner but her mom is still a doctor and has to work to pay for the giant house that no one seems to live in anymore.
Sighing, Santana slumps down on the edge of the side of the bed. There’s clothes scattered around the room but other than that, Quinn’s room is annoyingly clean. It won’t take her more than five minutes to pick up the room and god damn this is frustrating. Before Brittany cut her out, she was able to just sit in Quinn’s room all day, passing her time writing and watching shit tv. It shouldn’t be any different now.
She decides to head over to Mitch’s as she’s getting dressed but once she’s downstairs (which is significantly cooler than upstairs), cursing filters from the kitchen.
Judy is kneeling on the counter, all of the cabinet doors open and an array of dishes are stacked on the island. Uncharacteristically, Judy is wearing slacks instead of a dress or skirt and Santana thinks that she’s not even wearing make up. The older woman practically growls as she rips what looks like wallpaper off the bottom of the cabinet she’s in front of. “Are you okay,” Santana asks, actually feeling bad when Judy jumps a little.
Carefully sitting down, Judy sighs. “Sorry. As I was getting ready this morning, work just seemed like an awful idea but then, so did doing nothing,” Judy explains, balling up the ruined paper. “So I decided to re-line the shelves since they’ve been the same since we moved in and you know what I remembered?” Santana shakes her head even though she’s 75% sure that was a rhetorical question. “I can’t line shelves to save my life.” Judy kind of laughs then and hops down. “It’s too fucking difficult.” Santana’s eyes widen and Judy picks up a stack of plates; the plain white square ones that she uses on a regular basis. “I told Russell that we needed to slow things down last night.”
She falls in line next to Judy, grabbing the bowls from the counter and sets them to the right of the plates. “What’d he say?”
Judy picks up one of the glasses, the bottoms square to match the rest of the dishware, and uses the end of her blouse to buff out a smudge on the rim. “He hung up on me,” she announces almost proudly and when Santana looks at the older woman, Judy wears a smile. “He called me back at one in the morning and apologized. I don’t think he’s ever apologized to me.”
Santana takes the cup, starting a straight line as best she can with the cups Judy passes to her. “You didn’t really waste any time after our talk,” Santana says evenly and Judy shakes her head like she’s unaware of the way Santana’s inspecting her.
“We’d been talking for nearly an hour and not once did he bring up Quinn.” Judy’s hand finds purchase on her hip, now simply watching as Santana continues to put the contents of the cupboard back. “I spent half the night worrying if I should go in and talk to my daughter and the only thing he was worried about was when he’d see me next.” Judy sighs and rubs her temple. Santana notices that the wedding ring she spotted the day before has already disappeared from Judy’s slender fingers. “For the first time, that didn’t sit well with me.”
Santana nods and closes the cupboard that is once again filled with pristine dishes. “And after he apologized for hanging up on you?”
“We fought some more.” Judy’s voice remains upbeat and Santana thinks Judy’s missing the point of standing up for herself.
Santana hops on to the counter where Judy had been when she first walked in. “So...” Judy stares at her like some sort of show dog and Santana sighs. “Is this just going to be a cycle? You’ve done this once before, right after Quinn gave-”
Judy shakes her head, body rigid as she puts her hands up. “No,” bursts out of Judy’s mouth and Santana moves around the kitchen, closing everything so it not longer looks like Paranormal Activity 2.
“God damn Fabray women,” Santana mutters under her breath. She rounds the island, holding her head in her hands as she stares at Judy, whose smile finally slips. “I’m glad you stood up to Russell.”
Judy’s cheeks twitch. “But I still don’t know what I’m doing.” Santana nods and Judy sighs, picking up her mug and walking over to the coffee pot.
“You can’t even bring up the-”
“I know,” Judy shouts, Santana’s eyes widening. “I’m sorry but… Please, just don’t.”
“You guys have got to stop ignoring shit.”
Judy pours herself coffee, dark liquid splashing over the rim. Santana can see the steam floating from the cup and when the coffee hits Judy’s fingers it should hurt her, but the blonde doesn’t even flinch. “After I gave birth to Quinn’s sister, I spoke to a therapist.” Santana stays quiet while Judy sips her coffee. It surprises her that Judy takes it black. “Russell didn’t like it at all but I was suffering from post partum and I couldn’t medicate.” Santana runs her hand through her hair, bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from something bitchy. “I only went a few times but it helped… Maybe it could help now.”
Judy looks to Santana for confirmation and, god, Santana didn’t realize that she was going to be the adult of the house when she started shacking up here. “What do you have to lose?”
“Russell and Quinn won’t like it,” Judy says as she drums her nails on the ceramic cup.
The clock above the sink reads 10 and she knows if she doesn’t leave soon, she’ll melt before she gets to Mitch’s. “I’m going to have dinner with my mom tonight so maybe you should try talking to Quinn then,” Santana throws out there as she stands up.
“You don’t want to be here for the show,” Judy teases and Santana rolls her eyes before giving Judy a small smile.
“Good luck.”
--
Puck comes in not too long after Santana texts her saying she’s actually going home for the night. “You okay,” he asks when he finds her sunk into a beanbag chair in the kids section.
She nods, giving him a small smile as he sits down next to her. “Just a lot of stuff happened.”
“Want to talk about it?” He pulls Goodnight Moon from the bookshelf next to him, flipping through the cardboard pages once she shakes her head.
They slip into the routine that’s been established over the past few weeks. They talk about mostly everything as they move around the store and she smiles a lot more than she has in a while. Santana’s voice is in the back of her head though, telling her that this isn’t right, but how is she supposed to give this up? It’s been so long since she felt something close to happiness. She knows it’s selfish as hell but-
A woman walks into the shop with a toddler on her hip and Puck stops mid-sentence when he sees them. “If you need anything, let me know,” Quinn greets from behind the desk. She feels that phantom flutter again, low in her belly, and she pushes herself flush against the wood, creating different pressure points to try and confuse her body. It’s quiet between them, uncomfortable so, and she turns the radio up a little louder. She can still hear the kid babbling to it’s mother down one of the aisles and it freezes her up. Puck’s watching her as he continues, slowly, sorting the books. She closes her eyes. “Why didn’t you see her without me?”
He takes one of her hands in his, more careful with her than he’s been in a long time. He would’ve treated Beth with the utmost tenderness. Suddenly guilt starts weighing her down. “I tried,” he answers honestly. She opens her eyes just in time to see him shrug. “It’s scary alone.” She nods, even though she’d use a much stronger word than scary. “Didn’t feel right without you.” Those words nip at her and she almost tells him then.
'Wonderful Tonight' starts playing on the radio as Puck flattens her hand with his. She squeezes his hand, trying to force words passed the lump in her throat, but he walks around the cart of books he’s been going through, their clasped hands in the air. “Remember when you’d let me do this?”
She smirks, his arm wrapping around her waist. “Begrudgingly,” she answers as she places her free hand on his shoulder.
“You always pretended it annoyed you,” he comments, pulling away just enough to spin her.
“Sometimes it did. I would be trying to do homework and you’d want me to dance.”
“S’cause that’s one of the only times you’d actually smile.”
She goes a little stiff in his arms but lets him pull her close. Quinn clears her throat. “Wasn’t able to get this close before.” Puck shakes his head, his hand patting her skirt just above her ass. “You should go see her,” she whispers, ducking her head underneath his chin.
She feels him move underneath her. “Will you come with me?” His voice cracks just so and the song ends, moving on to a commercial for the drive in on the edge of town.
She wonders if she’ll ever be able to not let him down.
She turns around, lowering the radio before repining her hair, just to keep her hands busy. “I can’t.”
Crying comes from one of the aisles and, haggard, the mom darts towards the door as she rubs the baby’s back.
--
She’s prepared to disappear upstairs as soon as she gets home. Her mom, however, is coming out of the living room as Quinn walks through the door, the kitchen timer keeping loudly. “I hope you didn’t make a lot,” Quinn says as she tosses her keys into the bowl in the hall. “Santana wo-”
“I know,” Judy cuts in, hand careful ling checking to make sure her hair is pulled back smoothly. “I thought we could eat at the table tonight.” Quinn looks over at the formal dining set and shakes her head. She hasn’t sat at the table in over a year and she doesn’t think she’ll start now. “I’d really like to eat together, Quinn.”
Her attention snaps back to her mom, the beeping getting louder. “We can eat at the island.” The smile on her mom’s face is too hopeful. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”
“Come down after. Everything should be done then,” Judy calls out as she takes off to the kitchen.”
--
Normally she wouldn’t bother putting make up on but she can’t remember the last time she ate alone with her mother and a perfect face is the best shield she’ll get right now.
Judy’s all ready set two places at the island, some sort of casserole in front of the plate, rice and beans in a side dish. Their glasses are empty but Quinn can see the print of her mother’s lips along the rim of her wine glass.
“What’d you like to drink,” Judy asks from inside the fridge.
Quinn hesitantly sits down. “Just water.” She moves her place setting and chair away from her mom just a little bit more.
Her mom fills their cups with water before finally settling down next to Quinn. “I saw this recipe a little while back but never got around to trying it,” Judy explains as she cuts out a decent size square and slides it on to Quinn’s plate. “It’s kind of a deconstructed enchilada dish.”
Quinn pokes at the square, pulling a little bit of cheese off the top. Her mom continues talking about nothing Quinn cares about. She waits until her mom has filled their plates before she sets her fork down. “What is all this?”
Her mom stops mid sentence. She smoothes out the napkin in her lap before turning in her seat to look at Quinn for the first time since she sat down. Simply, Judy answers, “Dinner.” Quinn can’t stop the way her eyes narrow and her mom swallows audibly. “We need to talk.”
Quinn stabs at the casserole on her plate. “We’re not the type of family that does that.”
“Maybe we should be.” Quinn glances at her mom and though Judy looks calm, her knuckles are white around her glass. “I want us all to go counseling.”
Quinn’s shaking her head before Judy even finishes the sentence. “Absolutely not.”
Her mom quirks an eyebrow. “That’s exactly what your father said.”
“Well I did used to be his favorite before he decided I didn’t exist,” Quinn spits, pushing away from the counter.
“Obviously that’s something that needs to be discussed. A lot of things need to be dealt with so that-”
“So that what? We can pretend that we’re a big happy family until Daddy cheats on you again and you slip back into drinking two bottles of wine a day?” Judy tries to catch her hand but Quinn puts her arms up. “And I spend the next year worrying that anything I do will get me kicked out? God, you’ll probably send me back to church.”
“What do you want then, Quinn?” Her mother’s voice is loud and upset but surprisingly not angry. Judy throws her napkin on her plate before turning in her seat so she can look Quinn in the eye. Judy folds her hands in her lap, her breathing a little ragged. “Is continuing on like we have been preferable to you? I’m trying to fix things but it seems like you’re content with blaming me for the rest of your life.” There’s bite in her words and Quinn fists her hands at her side as she takes another step away from her mother.
She still has to live another year in this house, one more year until she can get out of this stupid town, and so she bites down on her tongue until she tastes blood. She will not say what she wants because the fear of getting thrown out of this house again stands next to her like a shadow.
Judy takes a breath, sagging in her chair. “Just go once. Please.”
Quinn can feel herself shaking her head before she realizes it and Judy runs a hand through her hair, ruining her perfect French twist. “If he’s going to be there…” Quinn wraps her arms around her waist. “No.” She feels nauseous and she wishes that there was a better escape than an empty room upstairs, a better escape outside of Lima.
“If your father doesn’t go,” Judy asks and Quinn doesn’t know what to do other than shrug.
“I need to just…” She closes her eyes and feels like screaming. “I’m going upstairs.”
“Qu-”
“Give. Me. Time,” she grits out, not once pausing when she finally turns to leave the room.
--
Santana expects no one to be at her house when she finally gets there around 4. It’s why she puts on a new record (though it’s not really new because it’s Tragic Kingdom) and turns the volume up. She can feel the music under her skin, allowing her to smile for the first time in days. But then, just before Spiderwebs breaks into the chorus, the sound cuts out, replaced with, “Hey there, Boo Boo, Surprised to see you here.”
She tucks the pack of cigarettes she was fishing out from between her mattresses back, turning around with a smile. “I’d say the same to you, Dad. I thought you’d still be at work.”
He shakes his head, slipping his hands into the pockets on his slacks. “Your mom told me you were joining us for dinner tonight. Seemed like a good enough excuse to get off early. I feel like I haven’t seen you all summer, mija.”
“S’cause you haven’t.” She doesn’t say it to be cruel, she actually doesn’t care that her parents work insane hours because it keeps her safe, but she watches guilt fill her father’s eyes anyway. “It’s okay, Dad.”
He sighs, shaking his head the tiniest bit, before rolling back his shoulders. “Let’s go catch a movie. By the time we’re out, your mom can join us for dinner.”
Movies put the perfect amount of distance between them (allows her time with her father but leaves no room for questions and lies). “Only if we can get popcorn.”
--
Dinner is not eaten in near silence like it is at Quinn’s. Instead, almost everything that’s said is used as fuel for an argument that feels like it’s lasted Santana’s entire life. It’s so rare that the three of them are actually together that she hasn’t built up a tolerance; Their words don’t turn into white noise and she hears every bitchy comment loud and clear.
Santana stabs a crouton and a leaf of lettuce when her mom slams her glass on the table. Phyllis, who is undoubtedly Santana’s favorite waitress, starts to walk over to check on them but Santana smiles, subtly shaking her head. She doesn’t want to create an even bigger scene.
Her father huffs and tosses his napkin on the table before pushing back his chair. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
Her mother rolls her eyes and clears her throat. “Never should’ve told him about our dinner plans,” Mrs. Lopez mutters. “But then I never would’ve heard the end of that.” Even though Santana’s fairly sure her father isn’t done with his salad, her mother stacks her empty plate on top of his and passes them to Phyllis when she passes. “Are you not friends with Brittany anymore, mija?” Santana takes a long drink from her water to avoid the question. “I only ask because, well, you don’t normally like Quinn.”
“I like Quinn,” she answers but her mother raises a questioning brow. “She wasn’t my favorite person but…” Santana shrugs. Quinn is her friend now, she just can’t explain to her mother how exactly that happened. She’s not entirely sure she could explain it if she wanted to anyway.
Her mother puts her hands up to show no ill will and then looks over her shoulder for Mr. Lopez. “I like Quinn more anyway,” her mother says casually and Santana realizes very quickly that Mrs. Lopez is purposely not holding eye contact with her. “She’s more up to par…”
Santana fists her hands around her napkin. “Brittany’s not stupid.”
Mrs. Lopez looks at her finally, eyes wide. “No, she’s not. But Quinn is better suited-”
“Mom,” Santana barks and she tries not to notice the few heads that turn, once again, to look at their table. “Stop talking about Brittany.”
“Mija, I was just saying.” Her mother uses the same tone she uses when she speaks to Mr. Lopez. “There is no need to get so snippy.”
Santana rolls her eyes. Her father returns to the table and she turns almost completely away from her mother. “Do you think we could fit in another movie before I go back to school,” she asks and a smile spreads beneath his graying moustache.
“Of course, Boo Boo. You gotta let me know ahead of time though.” She nods as Phyllis sets their plates down. Santana glances over to where her mother is obviously pouting. Mrs. Lopez looks at her food with disgust but then something flashes across her eyes.
“Did your sister call you today?”
Her father’s fork slips from his hand and he instantly starts murmuring in Spanish the way he used to when she was in trouble as a child. “Can you believe it,” he shouts, his face flushed when he finally looks up.
Her mother puts her hand on his arm, ushering him to lower his voice. “I told you that no teenage boy is that nice without a secret or two.”
Santana blinks between the two, cautiously nibbling on a breadstick. “What happened?”
“It’s so disgusting,” Mr. Lopez spits and her mother nods.
“Aunt Maria caught John with a boy from his basketball team.” Santana snaps the breadstick in two, her stomach lurching. “His hand was-” Her mother stops short and shakes her head, hand going to her throat. “I can’t even say it.”
Santana drops the breadstick on her plate and then wipes her sweaty hands on her jeans. “What-” Her father starts to lean across the table when her voice cracks but she scoots back before he can touch her. “What did she do?”
“Kicked his ass out,” her father says, almost proud. “She couldn’t let him keep sharking a room with Gabriel.” Mr. Lopez scoffs, running his hand over his hair. “Could you imagine what John could’ve been telling him? Could’ve been doing?”
Mrs. Lopez clucks her tongue. “John wouldn’t touch his brother,” she asserts but that’s the only thing she deems needing correction.
Everything starts fading out then. Her father keeps talking about how utterly revolting his own flesh and blood is, her mother nodding her head in agreement. John is 16 and even though they have a lot of family in Lima, none of them would take him in, not now. “I shouldn’t have brought this up during dinner,” her mother says amidst the vile coming from Mr. Lopez’s mouth. “We’ve all lost our appetites.” She motions to Santana’s barely touched plate before pushing her own away.
Santana can’t breathe but she doesn’t gasp, doesn’t leave, just succumbs to this drowning until Phyllis comes over to their table. “Is everything okay,” she asks and her father doesn’t even shut up then, just lowers his voice even more.
“Could we get some boxes,” her mother asks politely and Santana is surprised she makes it to the bathroom to throw up.
--
Santana isn’t smiling when she opens Quinn’s bathroom door. Quinn looks up, her hands still pulling her hair up into a bun on top of her head. Santana stares at her for a moment before pulling off her shirt and kicking off her flip flops. It’s kind of weird seeing Santana so dressed down, in things that are loose and relaxed, and not something that molds to every curve of her body, but Santana has always been respectful when it comes to her parents and that means not dressing like she normally does in their presence. Santana unbuttons her jeans and shoves them to her feet, stepping out of them as she reaches around and unhooks her bra.
Quinn finds Santana’s relationship with her parents odd. Santana’s sort of always kept them at arms length which was for the best, Quinn guesses, because they worked so much, but close at the same time. Quinn’s never seen both of Santana’s parents at the same time but she has witnessed real conversations in the Lopez family and more love than Quinn thought could exist in a family.
She bends her legs and Santana slides open the glass doors, stepping into the tub. Quinn gnaws on the inside of her cheek, debating if she should even ask why Santana’s here, but instead just watches her friend sink into the water, keeping her own legs close to her. “My mom left you a plate in the fridge,” Quinn says neutrally, picking up the book she had set down to pull her hair up.
“What’d you have?” Santana’s voice is rough and strained, not bitchy or cocky like it normally is. Quinn’s eyes flick to Santana’s over the top of her book, noting that they’re neither glazed over or red.
“Some sort of casserole.” Santana runs a hand through her hair and Quinn bookmarks her page before tossing the book back down, this time near Santana’s discarded jeans, when she notices that Santana’s hand is shaking.
“You ate didn’t you? How do you not know what kind of casserole it was?” Santana’s eyebrow is arched and Quinn’s never really considered it before, but she thinks she might have learned that from her. When Quinn was transforming herself into Quinn, she found herself copycatting different people. Copied her mother, her sister, other girls she’d see at the mall who she assumed were popular and obviously pretty. She watched ‘Mean Girls’ and clearly took away the wrong message, but at 14, she knew that while it was a realistic depiction of high school life, the ending was complete bullshit.
When she first met Santana at cheer camp the summer before freshmen year, Quinn recognized her as a threat to the new persona she created. Santana was pretty and secure and clearly someone looking to be in charge. She remembers Santana, with her eyebrow arched and arms folded harshly across her chest while Brittany introduced them, and how she frightened and intrigued Quinn at the same time. Lucy would’ve stayed in her place among the other faceless fat girls who somehow made it on to Sylvester’s squad at the mere sight of that eyebrow. Quinn, however, rolled her shoulders and somehow put Santana in her place over the course of six weeks. And maybe even stole that eyebrow thing along the way.
Quinn shrugs. “I didn’t really eat it,” she admits, sinking lower into the water. “My mom asked me to go to therapy with her and Russell.”
Santana stretches out her legs, feet running along Quinn’s hips when they’re fully extended. The tub isn’t big by any means, and she’s glad that it keeps Santana closer to her without making her seem too concerned. “Yeah, I gave your mom the head’s up that I’d be gone.” Santana licks her lips. “How’d it go?”
“Did you see my mom when you came in,” she asks and Santana dips her head. Quinn’s hands find Santana’s shins under the soapy water. “Fiction.”
Santana lets out a heavy sigh and Quinn thinks that, for once, she won’t participate in their coward’s game. But then Santana mutters, “I had a wonderful dinner with my parents.” She closes her eyes and lets her head lull against the tile wall. “Fact.”
Quinn bites her bottom lip, taking in all of Santana she can see. She can only see from the ribs up, and her eyes trail the pink scar tissue that’s still visible between Santana’s chest. Santana isn’t as insecure about her scars as Quinn is about hers, since hers are attached to new, bigger boobs and Quinn’s are on a stomach that won’t go flat. “Your boobs look nice.” Santana’s eyes open immediately and Quinn can’t fight the small smile she gets when Santana manages to smirk a little bit.
“My boobs are always amazing.” Her voice kind of cracks again and Quinn squeezes the skin beneath her fingertips. “Dinner was okay. Probably a lot better than any dinner you’ve hand with Judy but…” She lets out a heavy sigh and shakes her head. “I guess my cousin John is gay too.”
Quinn drags her nails along Santana’s tan skin. “I’m guessing your parents weren’t very fond of that.”
Santana scoffs and ducks her head again. “I’ve never heard my father speak like that before.” Quinn tugs on Santana’s legs, silently urging her to come closer, but Santana shakes her head. “No. It’s fine. I’m sure you had a worse night and you shouldn’t be deflecting or whatever the fuck it is you’re doing now.”
“Shut up,” Quinn says, punctuating her words with a slap against Santana’s knees. “If you want we can talk about my horrible dinner but I think you need this more.” Santana rolls her eyes but this time when Quinn leans forward, Santana lets Quinn take her shaking hands and pull her, more or less, in her lap.
“If you wanted to fuck me again, all you had to do was ask.” Quinn swats her again but this time on Santana’s ass. “Wanky.”
“Are you close with your cousin,” Quinn asks, trying to ignore the way Santana’s eyes are starting to gloss over.
She shakes her head. “Not at all. We make awkward conversation at family gatherings. I don’t even have his cell phone num-” Santana’s words lodge in her throat and even though she doesn’t cry, her legs wrap tightly around Quinn. “My aunt kicked him out and I can’t stop thinking about the fact that this kid is out there, roaming Lima without anywhere to go… And how that kid could be me.” She thinks about lying, about assuring Santana that her cousin is fine, but Quinn knows no better than her. Santana brings her hands up to cover her face, fingertips digging into her eyes in a way that must hurt, and just when Quinn decides she has to do something (be it say something or simply pull Santana’s hands away), Santana shakes her head, her hands falling back into the water with a splash. “I think therapy could be good for you guys.”
“Unlikely. I can barely say what’s in my head to you and you expect me to share that with a stranger and my parents?”
Quinn shakes her head as she stretches, pulling her arms over her head and a few drops of water fall on to Santana’s face. A single droplet catches along the side of Santana’s nose and it travels down to her lips where Santana catches it with her tongue. Santana is still shaking and Quinn thinks of bringing her closer; Right now there is still plenty of space between them and though she really just wants to hold Santana the way she was held yesterday in the very same shower, her mind thinks about what it’d be like to be pressed against Santana like that. She’s had sex with two people now but she never embraced either of them in such an intimate way. The only other person who comes close is the child that came from her body and that only serves to scare her away from holding another person like that.
Santana slides her arms around Quinn’s neck once Quinn’s hands return to Santana’s waist. “Bargain with Judy. Maybe if you have some one on one with a shrink first, she’ll… I don’t know. Make sure Russell stays out of your group sessions for a bit?”
“I’ll think about it,” Quinn answers as Santana slides a little closer until there is no space between them and Quinn can feel slick skin against hers.
“Are you okay with this?” Santana’s eyes flick down to where their chests press together. It almost seems like an out of body experience; Quinn knows those are her breasts but then there are others there too, hard nipples and firmer, tanner flesh pressed against them, and this is never anything she thought she’d see. Quinn notices Santana chewing on the inside of her lip. Nodding, Quinn wraps her arms tightly around Santana and she feels the brunette exhale against her shoulder. “I’m really surprised this isn’t weird for you.” Santana is silent for a beat before she says, “But then again, you really surprised me when you fucked me so I guess this should be like seeing a cross around your neck.” Quinn knuckle punches Santana just below her ribs and Santana yelps, slapping Quinn’s shoulders. “Ow, you bitch! You know I had a shitty day and then you abuse me?”
“We both had crappy days and you’re ruining whatever semblance of a moment we were having.”
Santana rolls her eyes before pushing herself away from Quinn. She stands up then and, naturally, laughs when she notices Quinn’s blushing. “You seemed pretty eager to have your face down there a few days ago,” Santana says, hands falling to her hips as she smirks down at Quinn.
Quinn’s eyebrows drop but she continues to stare at Santana’s face rather than what’s directly in front of her. “If I didn’t think you’d enjoy it, I’d twat swat you right now.” Santana snorts as she steps out of the tub, sidestepping Quinn’s book at the last second.
“I never thought I’d hear you say twat.” Santana digs underneath the sink before pulling out a spare towel. “And you didn’t even think twice about smacking my ass earlier and I can tell you that I certainly like that.”
Quinn watches as Santana dries off her torso before toweling off her legs. She’s stopped shaking and the tears Quinn was terrified would fall retreated before Santana even stood up. But Santana still chews on the inside of her lip and it’s bugging Quinn more than she thought it would. “Do you want to drink tonight?”
“I figured I’d save getting wasted on a Tuesday till college,” Santana answers, tossing Quinn the towel when she stands up.
Santana goes about the bathroom, pulling out a wet cloth to remove her make up and then fishing a hair tie out of the pocket of her jeans. Quinn simply watches with the towel tucked around her and it’s not until Santana looks at her questioningly that she asks, “Do you want to have sex?”
She’s not sure if it surprises her or not that Santana doesn’t even flinch once the question leaves her mouth. “With you?” Quinn’s shoulders drop just enough for Santana’s eyes to widen. “Oh god, I only asked because we said we weren’t going to do that again. Please don’t get a complex.”
Quinn sits down on the toilet and picks up Santana’s clothes, folding them on her lap. “I slept with you because I wanted to make you feel better and you still seem… off. And I know that booze and sex help you the most.” She glances at Santana who is simply staring at her and Quinn drops the stack of clothes on to the counter. “Forget it.”
“Having sex with a friend is what got me feeling so shitty,” Santana says when Quinn stands up.
“It was a stupid suggestion.” Quinn smiles a bit when Santana looks at her and pulls her hair out of its bun. “Come on. We’ll watch bad reality tv like normal people.”
--
She doesn’t know what time it is but she’s been laying in complete silence since Quinn turned off the tv a while ago. Quinn hasn’t moved next to her but her breathing hasn’t fallen into the pattern Santana’s grown accustom to over the past few months.
What happened at dinner tonight is not what’s keeping her up, she knows that. Her parents didn’t surprise her in the least bit and, yes, she’s mildly worried about her cousin. But she knows that he’s likely already figured some where out to go and that, if need be, she could give herself peace of mind with a call to CPS the next morning.
Quinn’s fingers flex against her stomach and Santana looks over at her. They barely said anything once they collapsed on Quinn’s bed. It feels like a step back and she sighs loud enough for Quinn to peek open an eye. “Are we okay?”
Sleepily, Quinn murmurs, “You ask that too much,” before rolling away from Santana.
“That’s because we fuck up like crazy,” Santana says, fingers wrapping around Quinn’s elbow. “I’ll have sex with you.”
“Don’t sound so excited,” Quinn drawls. “I don’t have to sleep with you, Santana.”
Santana pulls Quinn’s arm but the bitch stays rooted to her spot. “Look,” Santana starts, straddling Quinn’s hip. The blonde lightly punches her in the stomach but Santana catches her hand. “Do you want me to say that I’ll fuck you? Because, yes, we’re friends, but in case you haven’t looked in a mirror, you’re insanely hot. No, you’re gorgeous. Having sex with you will not be a chore. But we’re also all we have, Quinn. I can’t lose you.” Quinn rolls so that she’s flat on her back but Santana stays where she’s at, eyeing Santana carefully. She feels like she’s being inspected and, god, she hates that she can’t read Quinn. “So if you honestly think that we can do this like Puck and I used to, then we can. But you have to fucking promise me that this won’t get weird.”
Quinn stays silent before the corner of her lips quirk up just a bit. “That sounded like a more vulgar version of a speech from ‘A Walk to Remember’.”
Santana pinches Quinn’s side. “I’m being serious, ass!”
Quinn laughs a little and pushes Santana off her. “We don’t have to have sex.” Quinn lets out a breath. “It was a bright spot,” she says quietly, burrowing her face into her pillow. “That’s all.”
Quinn goes to roll away from her again but this time she stops when Santana hooks her hand underneath the strap of her tank top. She can’t think of anything else to do right now and so she kisses Quinn, running her tongue lightly over Quinn’s lip. She intends to leave it as that, intends to roll over and actually try to sleep now, but instead she finds her hands tangling in blonde hair that’s different but not new, her leg fitting between creamy thighs she’s never experienced.