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15 February 2013 @ 05:32 pm
fic: love fool (2/?)  
Title: Love Fool (2/?)
Rating: NC-17
Couple: Quinn/Santana
Summary: So, really last night isn’t a big deal. Quinn was just curious and lonely and drunk. Santana was probably the same. So, she shouldn’t be freaking out.
Prompt: none
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I certainly wish I did. They'd hump like bunnies on viagra.
A/N: This fic is the result of a late night conversation with a friend who was having overwhelming Quinntana feelings. I hope I do this story justice.



Santana wakes up with a start. Karmin’s “Too Many Fish” fills the otherwise quiet room and she reaches over and grabs her phone, silencing it before her brain exploded out of her head. She sits up and rubs her temples. What the hell had even happened last night? There had been a wedding and champagne and then some tequila and a lot of wine. She and Quinn had...Her dark eyes shot over to the other side of the bed, but she was alone.

“No...no...no, no, no, no...” Santana mumbles to herself, throwing back her covers and jumping out of the bed. She looks down at herself and groans. "Yep, naked...motherfucker.” She runs her hand over her face and turns, trying to find any trace of the other girl. Only there isn’t any. None at all. Great, just great, this was all she needed.

She grabs her phone and sighs when she sees she had ten text messages and four missed calls and not a single one of them is from Quinn. She tosses the phone onto the bed and reaches for her discarded dress. It’s rolled into a ball. She vaguely remembers balling it in her fist once she’d pulled it over her head whilst straddling Quinn’s waist. She’d kind of just thrown it to the floor and she remembers thinking she should maybe drape it across the chair. She also remembers that Quinn had scratched her nails down her abs and she’d thought “fuck it” about the dress.

The sudden rush of wetness between her legs reminds her that she was, in fact, an idiot. Why had she slept with Quinn? That is probably the dumbest thing she ever could have done. And the thing is, she can’t exactly blame it on all of the booze because she remembers clearly thinking that if she got Quinn drunk enough, they’d probably end up having sex. Just something about Quinn’s whole “I’m done with men,” had sounded like a beacon to Santana’s lady parts and she really needs to learn how to say no to them because they always get her into trouble.

Another text message comes through and she reaches for her phone, looking down. She rolls her eyes when she reads the text from Rachel asking her to please join everyone down in the restaurant for a late lunch. Puck texts her two minutes later, requesting the same thing and she sighs again. She shoots back that she’ll be there after she showered and dressed and then heads off to the bathroom.

There is a bruise on the inside of her right thigh that smarts like a mother when she runs her loofa over it and it just reminds her of Quinn’s lips on her thigh while she rubbed her fingers against Santana’s spot and God, she’d girl would just slide a hand between her legs right here and now if she wasn’t actually sore.

Last night had been...eye opening. It was nothing at all like she’d been expecting. Quinn had been bold and hungry. She’d given as good as she got and if she were any other person, Santana would be hunting her down for round three. But it isn’t. It’s Quinn and last night can never happen again. It is too...complicated and the last the last thing she needs is more complications.

She turns off the taps and steps out of the stall, grabbing a towel. It feels rough against her skin and toughens her resolve. She’s not going to make the same mistakes that she has been since freshman year of high school. New York is supposed to be her brand new start. And this momentary lapse in judgement aside, she’s doing well on that path. So no more mistakes like this and maybe she can salvage her friendship with Quinn before things have a chance to get fucked up. It’s already bad enough she has one best friend she can’t be in the same room with without cringing. She doesn’t want another one.

Everyone at the table is wearing glasses besides Rachel who’s like unnaturally lucky in that she rarely has a hangover. Santana takes a seat between Puck and Mike and she grunts when they greet her because their low voices sound like she’s underwater. Rachel and Finn are whispering towards each other and yeah, they also probably made wonderful decisions last night that ended up with Rachel crawling him like Jack climbed the beanstalk and for some reason that really pisses her off.

“Someone pass me the damn coffee,” she says suddenly, her voice a decibel louder than necessary. The new kids look startled, but her fucks cup is definitely empty. So, she fills it with coffee instead.

“Guess some of us didn’t get lucky last night. I’m disappointed, Lopez,” Puck says, nudging her shoulder. “I mean there was plenty of tail to get at.”

“Mhm...truth,” Artie agrees from somewhere off to Santana’s right and she’d toss this hot coffee into his face, but it’s already bad enough he’s in a wheelchair.

She considers pulling off her sunglasses so that Puck knows to lay off, but she doesn’t have time before he’s speaking again. “There’s gotta be something wrong in the world when Q’s getting ass and you’re not.”

It feels like the whole table is quiet at that and she spares a glance in the direction that everyone’s looking, some of them with mild interest, the others intrigued. Quinn’s green eyes are hidden behind her own pair of Wayfarers, but Santana knows the exact moment when their eyes meet. Her heart starts to pound, but she never lets on. Instead she looks away, her hand smacking the back of Puck’s head. “Some of us don’t want to scam on high school trade, Puck.”

Kitty’s face turns bright red at that and Sugar and Tina sort of gasp dramatically. There’s a buzz at the table now for a completely different reason and Jake looks kind of pissed. So, mission accomplished, Santana thinks and risks a glance at Quinn again. The other girl isn’t looking anymore and three minutes later, when Santana looks for her again, she’s gone.

“Christ, what is wrong with you chicks this weekend?” Puck says under his breath, clearly annoyed.

Good, she thinks. Serves him right for being an asshole and she smiles to herself as Rachel starts to grill him about dating girls that are definitely under the age of eighteen. Santana doesn’t even feel bad when she adds that he’s probably not dating her because sexual contact doesn’t equate dating.
 
 
Current Location: smyrna, ga 30080
Current Mood: excitedexcited
Current Music: too many fish - karmin
 
 
 
Cassie: Dianna: Gorgeouscassie_faith on February 20th, 2013 04:10 am (UTC)
Ooh, I love where this is going! :)