[GFS Exchange Fic] But I Got Wise by obsetress for thelastpen
Title: But I Got Wise
Author: obsetress
Written For: thelastpen
Prompt: Quinn/Santana - Angel!Santana Devel!Quinn
Pairing: Quinn/Santana
Rating/Warnings: R
Spoilers: N/A
Summary: Future!fic. Postgrad, Quinn and Santana run into each other at a party.
Author's Note: Title from Elvis Presley's "Devil in Disguise."
Santana Lopez is so used to being the best looking in any given room that at this point she's pretty much come to accept the propositions that greet her at every party. She's used to everyone - male, female, gay, straight, taken, whatever - wanting her, and if even one person doesn't, then she has a problem. Which is why, in this moment, the blonde bitch in the devil costume across the room is a big problem for her.
Costume parties have always been Santana's thing. She's never once arrived at a costume party and not instantly turned every head in the room, and she considers her current costume her best one yet. (Seriously. Anyone who couldn't appreciate the irony of Santana Lopez in an angel costume was seriously lacking.) So why had only a handful of people migrated her way when she'd walked in?
Because, apparently, of some blonde bitch in a devil costume.
She corners her friend Alex, backing her into a corner with a hissed "who is that bitch?"
Alex shrugs. "I don't know, man. She just showed up with Kate and Sara. Apparently they know her from undergrad or something."
Santana huffs, glancing back over at the girl on the other side of the room, before glancing back at Alex. "I am digging this Rachel Maddow costume by the way. It almost makes me want to go down on you a little bit."
Alex opens her mouth to respond, but Santana has already turned on her heel to make a beeline straight for the girl in the devil costume, coming up right behind her and tapping her on the shoulder. "Excuse me."
Santana has a mouthful of slurs ready to sling at the girl, but she turns around, and Santana feels her mouth go dry. Standing in front of her, wearing a devil costume that's clinging to her in all the right places, hazel eyes sparkling, is Quinn Fucking Fabray.
The smile on Quinn's face instantly fades. "Santana?"
The two haven't spoken - really spoken - in years. Sure, after leaving McKinley they, like the rest of New Directions, had sworn to stay in touch and had for a while, but sometime around junior year contact had pretty much ceased, save for the occasional liking of a Facebook status or witty quip in response to Rachel's annual holiday e-newsletter.
"Quinn..."
Next to them, Kate whispers something in Sara's ear. The two giggle.
Santana recovers faster than Quinn does. "Nice costume. Finally get tired of the whole Sugar and Spice routine?"
"Sooner than you gave up the whole Diablo Cody lingo, apparently."
That seems to break the awkwardness between them, and the two laugh.
"Can I get you a drink, Fabray," Santana jerks her thumb towards the kitchenette, where Kate and Sara are now crowded with Alex around the punch bowl, "or are you still staying away from wine coolers?"
"That depends. Do I need to worry about you knocking me up?"
This Quinn, postgraduate Quinn, is bolder, Santana decides. This Quinn is older, and while this Quinn is certainly grown up, she's, moreover, grown into herself. This Quinn is on par with Santana.
Santana backs off a little bit, shrugging. "You're the devil here, not me."
Quinn laughs. "I was going to say..." She gestures idly at Santana's costume. "It's... Unlike you, to say the least."
"I was going for the ironic look," Santana responds wryly, "you know, "The Gift of the Magi" is no longer in vogue, but irony never goes out of style."
Quinn quirks an eyebrow. "How long did it take you to think of that one?"
"A magician," Santana leans in closer, "never reveals her secrets. Now come on," she pulls away, grabbing Quinn's wrist, "let's get a drink."
Three - very full, thanks to Alex - Solo cups of punch later, Santana is curling into Quinn on the couch. "Please Quinn," she's drawling, "pretty pretty please?"
Quinn, tendril of Santana's hair wrapped around her finger, appears adamant, shaking her head back and forth. "Absolutely not, Santana. Absolutely not."
Santana stares at her for a moment, petulant, before leaping to her feet on the couch and hoisting her cup in the air. Punch sloshes up over the edge of the cup, landing with a splash on the hem of her white dress. "Peons!"
Santana is shouting, and Alex is seriously hoping her neighbors across the hall don't file a noise complaint.
"Peons of my hotness!"
Quinn is still shaking her head.
"You are all aware by this point," she pauses to steady herself, "of my fine, fine friend from high school, one Quinn Fabray-" She pauses, and when there's no response, she gestures to Quinn, repeating herself, a little louder this time. "One Quinn Fabray," here she gets the applause she wants, and continues, "but are you aware she can sing?"
"Santana," Quinn sits up a little straighter now, "stop it."
"That's right, y'all. Quinn Fabray can sing, and she's been treating it like her very own dirty little secret. How do you all feel about that?"
There are shouts from the crowd, and a surge into the living room, where Sara is drunkenly hooking Alex's karaoke machine up to the TV.
Quinn is glaring at Santana, who hops down from the couch, pleased smile on her face.
Feeling the heat of Quinn's eyes, Santana turns to her, feigning innocence. "What? I'm the angel here, after all." Quinn's eyes shift, then, lighting up, and she springs to her feet and into the living room.
Santana's close behind because Santana, downing the rest of her fourth cup of punch, doesn't like that look one bit.
Her suspicions prove correct when, in front of everyone, Quinn puts on an extremely rousing performance of "Devil in Disguise."
Santana would be pissed if she hadn't been so turned on.
Quinn finishes the song, and after some applause and congratulations, the crowd seems to disperse, falling back to what it had been prior to Santana's announcement. Sauntering back to the couch, where Santana is sitting with her legs tightly crossed, Quinn grins. "So was that what you wanted?"
That's not at all what she wants to do now.
"I mean, your voice still has that overly-airy quality, Ellie Goulding, but it was fine."
Quinn leans in, lips brushing against Santana's ear. "What is it that you wanted then?"
Santana Lopez is so used to being the best looking in any given room that at this point she's pretty much come to accept the propositions that greet her at every party. She's had her fair share of bathroom make-outs by this point, too, and she's used to those. She's used to fingernails digging into her back and she's used to sucking an earlobe into her mouth as a pair of legs tighten around her waist, pulling her closer, and she's used to the feel of bath mat underneath her knees as she drops down to kiss up a thigh.
She's not used to doing those things with Quinn Fabray.
But it's not that different, Santana learns, and she's pulling away before she knows it, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and climbing to her feet to kiss Quinn's lips as Quinn gasps slightly against hers, still trying to catch her breath.
"So apparently you have even more dirty little secrets than I thought," Santana muses, watching Quinn slide gingerly off the counter, "anything else I should know about?"
"On Thursdays I grow a penis," Quinn deadpans, and Santana looks horrified for a minute before they both laugh. "But that does remind me," Quinn opens the door and looks both ways before motioning for Santana to follow, "how would you feel about going as a werewolf and a vampire to the next party?"
"Who said there'd be a next time?" But Santana can't contain her grin: she and Quinn both know Santana will be there, so long as she gets to be the werewolf.
Author: obsetress
Written For: thelastpen
Prompt: Quinn/Santana - Angel!Santana Devel!Quinn
Pairing: Quinn/Santana
Rating/Warnings: R
Spoilers: N/A
Summary: Future!fic. Postgrad, Quinn and Santana run into each other at a party.
Author's Note: Title from Elvis Presley's "Devil in Disguise."
Santana Lopez is so used to being the best looking in any given room that at this point she's pretty much come to accept the propositions that greet her at every party. She's used to everyone - male, female, gay, straight, taken, whatever - wanting her, and if even one person doesn't, then she has a problem. Which is why, in this moment, the blonde bitch in the devil costume across the room is a big problem for her.
Costume parties have always been Santana's thing. She's never once arrived at a costume party and not instantly turned every head in the room, and she considers her current costume her best one yet. (Seriously. Anyone who couldn't appreciate the irony of Santana Lopez in an angel costume was seriously lacking.) So why had only a handful of people migrated her way when she'd walked in?
Because, apparently, of some blonde bitch in a devil costume.
She corners her friend Alex, backing her into a corner with a hissed "who is that bitch?"
Alex shrugs. "I don't know, man. She just showed up with Kate and Sara. Apparently they know her from undergrad or something."
Santana huffs, glancing back over at the girl on the other side of the room, before glancing back at Alex. "I am digging this Rachel Maddow costume by the way. It almost makes me want to go down on you a little bit."
Alex opens her mouth to respond, but Santana has already turned on her heel to make a beeline straight for the girl in the devil costume, coming up right behind her and tapping her on the shoulder. "Excuse me."
Santana has a mouthful of slurs ready to sling at the girl, but she turns around, and Santana feels her mouth go dry. Standing in front of her, wearing a devil costume that's clinging to her in all the right places, hazel eyes sparkling, is Quinn Fucking Fabray.
The smile on Quinn's face instantly fades. "Santana?"
The two haven't spoken - really spoken - in years. Sure, after leaving McKinley they, like the rest of New Directions, had sworn to stay in touch and had for a while, but sometime around junior year contact had pretty much ceased, save for the occasional liking of a Facebook status or witty quip in response to Rachel's annual holiday e-newsletter.
"Quinn..."
Next to them, Kate whispers something in Sara's ear. The two giggle.
Santana recovers faster than Quinn does. "Nice costume. Finally get tired of the whole Sugar and Spice routine?"
"Sooner than you gave up the whole Diablo Cody lingo, apparently."
That seems to break the awkwardness between them, and the two laugh.
"Can I get you a drink, Fabray," Santana jerks her thumb towards the kitchenette, where Kate and Sara are now crowded with Alex around the punch bowl, "or are you still staying away from wine coolers?"
"That depends. Do I need to worry about you knocking me up?"
This Quinn, postgraduate Quinn, is bolder, Santana decides. This Quinn is older, and while this Quinn is certainly grown up, she's, moreover, grown into herself. This Quinn is on par with Santana.
Santana backs off a little bit, shrugging. "You're the devil here, not me."
Quinn laughs. "I was going to say..." She gestures idly at Santana's costume. "It's... Unlike you, to say the least."
"I was going for the ironic look," Santana responds wryly, "you know, "The Gift of the Magi" is no longer in vogue, but irony never goes out of style."
Quinn quirks an eyebrow. "How long did it take you to think of that one?"
"A magician," Santana leans in closer, "never reveals her secrets. Now come on," she pulls away, grabbing Quinn's wrist, "let's get a drink."
Three - very full, thanks to Alex - Solo cups of punch later, Santana is curling into Quinn on the couch. "Please Quinn," she's drawling, "pretty pretty please?"
Quinn, tendril of Santana's hair wrapped around her finger, appears adamant, shaking her head back and forth. "Absolutely not, Santana. Absolutely not."
Santana stares at her for a moment, petulant, before leaping to her feet on the couch and hoisting her cup in the air. Punch sloshes up over the edge of the cup, landing with a splash on the hem of her white dress. "Peons!"
Santana is shouting, and Alex is seriously hoping her neighbors across the hall don't file a noise complaint.
"Peons of my hotness!"
Quinn is still shaking her head.
"You are all aware by this point," she pauses to steady herself, "of my fine, fine friend from high school, one Quinn Fabray-" She pauses, and when there's no response, she gestures to Quinn, repeating herself, a little louder this time. "One Quinn Fabray," here she gets the applause she wants, and continues, "but are you aware she can sing?"
"Santana," Quinn sits up a little straighter now, "stop it."
"That's right, y'all. Quinn Fabray can sing, and she's been treating it like her very own dirty little secret. How do you all feel about that?"
There are shouts from the crowd, and a surge into the living room, where Sara is drunkenly hooking Alex's karaoke machine up to the TV.
Quinn is glaring at Santana, who hops down from the couch, pleased smile on her face.
Feeling the heat of Quinn's eyes, Santana turns to her, feigning innocence. "What? I'm the angel here, after all." Quinn's eyes shift, then, lighting up, and she springs to her feet and into the living room.
Santana's close behind because Santana, downing the rest of her fourth cup of punch, doesn't like that look one bit.
Her suspicions prove correct when, in front of everyone, Quinn puts on an extremely rousing performance of "Devil in Disguise."
Santana would be pissed if she hadn't been so turned on.
Quinn finishes the song, and after some applause and congratulations, the crowd seems to disperse, falling back to what it had been prior to Santana's announcement. Sauntering back to the couch, where Santana is sitting with her legs tightly crossed, Quinn grins. "So was that what you wanted?"
That's not at all what she wants to do now.
"I mean, your voice still has that overly-airy quality, Ellie Goulding, but it was fine."
Quinn leans in, lips brushing against Santana's ear. "What is it that you wanted then?"
Santana Lopez is so used to being the best looking in any given room that at this point she's pretty much come to accept the propositions that greet her at every party. She's had her fair share of bathroom make-outs by this point, too, and she's used to those. She's used to fingernails digging into her back and she's used to sucking an earlobe into her mouth as a pair of legs tighten around her waist, pulling her closer, and she's used to the feel of bath mat underneath her knees as she drops down to kiss up a thigh.
She's not used to doing those things with Quinn Fabray.
But it's not that different, Santana learns, and she's pulling away before she knows it, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and climbing to her feet to kiss Quinn's lips as Quinn gasps slightly against hers, still trying to catch her breath.
"So apparently you have even more dirty little secrets than I thought," Santana muses, watching Quinn slide gingerly off the counter, "anything else I should know about?"
"On Thursdays I grow a penis," Quinn deadpans, and Santana looks horrified for a minute before they both laugh. "But that does remind me," Quinn opens the door and looks both ways before motioning for Santana to follow, "how would you feel about going as a werewolf and a vampire to the next party?"
"Who said there'd be a next time?" But Santana can't contain her grin: she and Quinn both know Santana will be there, so long as she gets to be the werewolf.