Fic for sp0ink
Recipient's LJ Name:sp0ink
Title: Just Christmas
Pairing: Quinn/Santana
Length: approx 2370 words
Warnings: other alcohol and some swearing (Rating PG13), none
Summary: Growing up it was Quinn, Santana, and Christmas. And then it wasn't...
Red.
She could never go wrong with red. Santana gave herself an approving look in the mirror as she pulled up the zipper up. The dress was walking dangerously close to the line with a hem long enough to be work party appropriate and a neckline low enough to work for a night of clubbing. She slipped into a pair of black heels, and fastened a rather simple necklace around her neck. Her fingers fumbled slightly with the small pendant, holding it close before she snapped herself back to reality; pausing on the way out her door only to grab her clutch, coat and invitation.
When she arrived at the party, held in the rented corner of some aged museum, even Santana had to admit that her dress feels a tad exaggerated. But, as she had predicted, every other woman in the place was clinging to their little black dresses. Most of those women glared; some outwardly, some so loudly from the confines of their own brain Santana could hear it behind their fake smiles. It wasn’t because of her dress or her body. No, at the office “Holiday” parties Santana Lopez’s reputation preceded her.
In the last four years the twenty-nine year old had become an expert at taking advantage of the open bar to lure potential clients the company had invited. Sometimes she’d even stolen accounts from her co-workers; anything for the extra edge. She certainly wasn’t there for the rather cheap looking decorations, or to be social, she wasn’t that pathetic. If she had to go these, she’d make the most of it.
Spotting her target on the far side of the hall. He was picking at the hors d’oeuvres bar with his fingers. Santana hid her grimace and began to head that direction.
“Santana.” Her boss intercepted. Damn. “I have someone to introduce you to.”
The Latina gave him a tight smile.
Better be a potential new client. “She’ll be taking the lead in the Events advertising campaign for the new year.”
Reluctantly she forced her smile a little further before following. She was going to be off her game plan for the evening, and she wasn’t the least bit happy about it. As they made their way closer to the middle of crowd she tried to see where he was leading her when her eyes landed on a rather bold blue dress standing next one of the small circular bar tables.
Scanning from the floor up, her stomach began tightening somewhere around the woman’s waist. It had been ten years, but Santana would know that body, and the blond hair anywhere. Quinn.
Cursing the world Santana looked around her trying to find an escape route. Unable to find one she snatched a glass of something festive (and clearly spiked) from the nearest passing waiter. In only a couple of swallows she managed to empty her cup, before she made her way over to the girl who had been all of her firsts.
Pressing her mouth to form a tight smile as she was introduced; her eyes scanned for another nearby waiter. If she was going to make it through the night she was going to need a lot more alcohol
xxxx
To make use of the cliche- She could remember the first time she had met Santana like it was yesterday. Hell, sometimes it felt like yesterday. At five years old Lucy Quinn Fabray had wanted to be like those princess-esque figure skaters she watched on television. So her mother enrolled her in ice skating lessons. During the first lesson, they lined everyone up to make sure their boots were tight enough. The then Lucy had avoided the rather loud brunette at the front of the line. Instead she sat next to a girl with a red sweater that was the exact same style as her own blue one. Santana had wanted to be a hockey player. The dream had quickly died; though Quinn suspected that Santana had always held on to the carry-a-stick-and-occasionally-slam-them-against-a-wall aspect of her former dream. This may have explained the rather aggressive display by the dark haired girl on the class’ first foray on to the ice. The young Fabray girl was reconsidering her friend options when one of the boys tried showing off, a display the nearly sent Quinn tumbling to the ice. Instead she stayed on her feet, a hand in hers bringing her back to balance.
Two months later they shared their first Christmas together. Dr. Lopez was in the middle of his residency, and his wife was working her second job to pay for his med school, as well as her daughter’s ice skating lessons. Once Quinn had found out she had begged her parents (in a very non-lady like fashioned, she had been informed ) to let Santana stay with them. She’d even agreed to share a few of her presents. Her parents had agreed after her older sister pointed out that it would be the Christian things do.
From the that moment on it became tradition. Every year, Santana’s mom would drop her off at the rink (even after they had both ditched their ice dreams for dance classes) two day’s before Christmas and Judy Fabray would bring them home. It was the one constant she could count on throughout her life. After she moved, after she gained all that weight, Santana had still arrived at the rink. After she lost all the weight and had the nose job, after she had moved back; Santana had still hopped in the car with plenty of insults to hurl at the ‘Christmas music twenty four-seven’ radio station. When she had been kicked out, sixteen and pregnant; Santana had shown up with a pillow stuffed under a hideous Christmas sweater and presents to share just to make her laugh (even if there were occasions they both denied it later.)
The was even the year that the two of them spent Christmas dinner giving each other the silent treatment due to an argument a couple weeks prior. Even angry at each other, it was tradition. It was just what they did every year.
It was the would do every year; or so Quinn had naively believed.
Then senior year came along. Judy Fabray found her self working her second job on that particular Christmas Eve, so the girls had free reign of house. The evening had started off with cheesy Christmas movies, then on Santana’s suggestion they started on scary movies. Without realizing Quinn had tucked herself against her best friend. As the credits rolled Quinn used the remote to switch the player off before turning to face Santana. She had realized they were so close as she paused. Fingers brushed her hair away from her face, and they both made to close the gap. It had been a long time coming really, and they quickly began making out to make up for the years of Finn and Puck and waiting. They never left the couch that night, curled into each other; hands and bodies entwined.
That was the image Judy Fabray had walked into when she arrived home in the early hours of the morning. She wasted no time waking the girls up. Quinn barely had time to toss a small red box Santana’s direction as her mother kicked the lifelong visitor out of the house like an intruder.
Later, Quinn would blame it on fear. Fear of getting kicked out a second time. Fear of not being strong enough to face her mother. She had just let it fall out between them, watching from the other side of the choir room as Santana took comfort in Brittany every time she refused to talk to her former Christmas companion.
Later, she would hate herself for being stupid. Stupid, for allowing the best part of her life to become a memory.
xxx
“We went to the same high school.”
Santana raised her eye brows at that explanation but her boss did’t question it further. He just left the two of them to catch up. Santana swiped another glass from another waiter.
There was a sort of happiness that ran through Santana’s body watching Quinn squirm guiltily, like a child who refused to admit they colored on the wall. There were plenty of things she want to say, planned on saying. And Santana has never been at loss for words, but Quinn Fabray came back and she wasn’t fast enough to make the first strike.
“You look good.” The blond offers. “How have you been since high school? How’s Brittany?”
Santana stiffened at the comment; her eyes spotted the ring on Quinn’s finger and its all she could do to stay still. She can’t decided if she’s staying out of curiosity or obligation. Judy Fabray got what she wanted along. She ordered another drink.
“How’s your mom?” Santana did her best to add every ounce of venom possible in her words. She didn’t want Quinn asking questions only she could ask.
Prepared with a scathing come back, the red dressed business woman was cut off by a hand snaking around the skinny waist across from her.
“There you are babe.” The new woman smiled broadly and kissed Quinn.
The alcohol was starting to take effect. Santana had always been an angry drunk and she could feel it burning in her stomach. However, she was not drunk enough to let herself get out of control right in the middle of all their co-workers. She wished Quinn and her spouse a great life before turning on heels. Santana downed one more drink before she made it to the coat check and outside.
Standing in the cold, she realized that there wasn’t much room for her to be angry. It had been ten years. If Quinn had finally figured out who she was, and found someone she loved, well, fucking good for her. Its not like Santana cared, she wasn’t jealous, and that memory of the cold night when Quinn denied everything that had been building between them, and all the possibilities that had never happened certainly did not haunt her.
"Santana" She heard Quinn’s voice following behind her, her heels clicked against the stairs. “Just stop, please. If you just let me explain...”
“Why would you need to do that?”
“Because Liz isn’t my girlfriend.”
“No. She’s your fiance.”
“What? No. San, that’s all fake.” Quinn said.
The raven haired girls stopped, purely out of curiosity, and waited for the other to explain.
Quinn continued, “We’re friends. She’s married to a great guy...who lends her to me for stupid office parties. I was just sick of showing up alone. All the guys would ask me where my husband was. Liz offered to come with me one year, and we’ve been faking an office party relationship for three years now.”
Santana watched as Quinn begins to half-smile. Uncharacteristically, Quinn’s eyes find the cement below her heels, “Sometimes, I pretend that she’s you. Is that ridiculous? It’s been ten years. You probably hate me. Not that I blame you. I just, you know like to think that if that was us...”
Santana interrupted with a scoff, and finally turned to face her past, "If what, Quinn? That could have been us in there? Well, guess what? It wouldn't have been like that for us in there." She took a few steps closer until their faces were inches, apart. She lowered her voice with every other word whispering up the length of Quinn’s exposed neck until she reached her ear, "Because if it were us, I wouldn't let you out of my reach. And that's if we even made to the party in first place. If that could have been us, we would have been to busy with each other to care about the rest of the world.”
She brought her lips within an inch of Quinn’s and she could feel the tension between them. She could almost hear the voices inside the Ad execs head begging her to close the gap. And as much as she wanted to do just that, she lingered just long enough to not break herself before she pulled away.
“I’m over you, Lucy Quinn Fabray. I’m not doing that two times, I’m not stupid. You don’t hold that power over me.”
Before she can turn, she hears the question, “Then why do you still wear the necklace I gave you that last Christmas together?”
Alcohol induced anger brought her hand to her neck. She snapped the necklace with hardly any effort and dropped it to the sidewalk. Turning on heels, she quickly walked away, ignoring the threatening tears, the exposed feeling on her bare neck, and Quinn’s final words to her retreating back.
She made it back to her empty apartment. After she finished off another bottle of wine and laid into an invisible Quinn in both English and Spanish she succumbed to sleep. She awoke to a wrinkled red dress and a knock on the door.
The hallway was empty except for the cup of hot coffee and a note just in front of her doorway. She read it three times, her eyes lingering on the last line.
“Please. You know where to find me.”
xxxx
Quinn is sitting on the hard wooden bench, bent over and lacing up a pair of ugly beige rental boots. Her hot coffee barely steams, it is almost cold. She thinks this could possibly be the stupidest idea in all of her twenty-eight years of life (second only to the decision that led her to this moment in the first place.) There’s no way she could have ever fixed it. The things her mother said, the things
she said that night. Sighing, she starts lacing the second boot when an identical coffee cup is set down besides hers on the bench. Glancing over she freezes as the familiar voice speaks.
“This doesn’t mean I forgive you. This doesn’t mean that we can talk. And it doesn’t mean I still have feeling for you. This. Right now. Its just Christmas.”
“Just Christmas.” She agrees hiding a knowing smile to focus on the laces.
‘Just Christmas’ may be more than just enough.