fic: You Find Refuge in the Most Unlikely Places (1/1)
Title: You Find Refuge in the Most Unlikely Places
Author: meetmyheartbeat
Rating: T (possible M for mention of suicidal thoughts)
Length: 2,642 words
Spoilers: Season three thus far, I guess.
Summary: Santana feels alone, but she’s always had Quinn. Quinn feels lost, until she notices Santana.
A/N: o____o I lost my train of thought somewhere along the way and it got really messy at the end and I’m too lazy to fix it… so… ;) For my lovely Katie. <3
The first night after the day Schuester had kicked her out of Glee club hadn't been easy on her mind. As much as she hated to admit it, it was hard to take in the fact that she had nothing left now. Sure, outside of Glee, she had minor acquaintances, but two years of being with the social delinquents had left her in the heart of music and loving friends. Now that she had been cut off from the group, all she had was herself and some passing "hellos" in the hallways.
Laying in her cold bed, she'd realized that they'd be too busy with Glee assignments to hang out with her -- Glee assignments that she wouldn't be a part of because she was apparently unfaithful to the group.
She honestly wanted to kick the crap out of their instructor, but the weight of a heavy heart and those stupid tears kept her from jumping the man in front of her friends. But she steels her heart like Santana Lopez often does. She steels herself and closes her eyes as she lets herself drift off into a dreamless sleep, away from the crap that life has handed her.
The second night isn't much different. Her heart gives a dull ache as she gets ready for bed and she refuses to think about her group of friends who'd called her idiotically and asked her if she was going to show up for their weekly assignment brainstorm meeting. Puck's voice had fallen quiet right after he realized 'right, you're not in Glee anymore.' She wanted to smack him so hard that his stupid mohawk would fly off his head.
She'd slammed the phone and thrown herself onto the bed, forcing herself to go to sleep despite the fact that it was only five.
When she woke up at eleven, she considered calling Quinn to see if they could keep each other company in both of their loneliness. On the ninth ring, she chickened out and hung up.
Her days and nights continue on like so for a week until one night. She's flipping through her brand new copy of "The Last Battle" -- reading to take her mind off of that stupid club -- when she hears a tiny tap at her barely-open window. With furrowed eyebrows, she decides to simply ignore it. It's a bit past three in the morning on a Sunday and most everyone is too busy passed out from partying too hard or drinking themselves into oblivion to be throwing rocks at her window anyways.
As she flips the page, she hears another tap at the window, followed by another, and another. Then followed by a whisper-yell of "Lopez! Santana! Fucking open your window!"
Santana can't help but blink, concentrating hard on the voice before making four quick strides to the window, opening it, and sticking her head out, only to be met with a rock--… no, a skittle in the eye.
"Took ya long enough!" The source of the voice angrily whispers, glaring up at her.
The Latina stares down at her best friend with a confused and somewhat annoyed stare. Quinn Fabray, in all her pink-haired newly adapted punk 'I don't give a fuck about anything' wardrobe staring up at her with a shit eating grin and a large bag of skittles in her hand.
Santana can't decide if she's annoyed or happy to see the girl, because even though it's not a nice thing to admit -- ah, who the fuck is she kidding, she couldn't be nice if someone held her at gun point and demanded it -- Quinn was a hell of a lot worse than her. Whatnot with losing her baby, losing her reputation, and then losing herself all together.
"What do you want, Fabray. I gots to get my beauty sleep, I've got a performance in Glee club tomorrow!" She whisper-yells down that the pink-headed girl. She's not quite sure why she lied-- maybe it was to feel better, maybe it was to make Quinn feel jealous. Either way, the lie had already floated past her lips and it was too late to take it back.
Even from her place on the second floor of the Lopez house, Santana can see Quinn pull off her signature cocked eyebrow and scrutinizing smirk. It's a look she's more or less gotten slightly irked at. It always meant Quinn knew something. The thought drove panic through Santana for some reason. She usually wouldn't give a second thought as to other people's opinions on her, but this was Quinn Fabray. And Quinn Fabray's thoughts were like morning star maces, ready to clobber people in the genitals when needed.
She was met with another skittle in the eye followed by an amused sounding laugh, "Don't lie to me, Lopez. I know you were booted."
It hits her like a dull hammer to her heart, but she covers it up with a roll of the eyes and a huff, "What are you doing here?"
Quinn gives her an illusive mysterious smirk that Santana has never seen before -- she decides a moment later that it's a part of her new bad-girl image -- and throws another skittle up at her, "Put on a jacket and come down."
Santana gives a huff before grabbing her Mckinley High hoodie and swinging her legs out the window and scaling down wall. She'd snuck out of her house enough time by now to know exactly where to place her feet. As her feet landed softly on the ground, she felt another skittle fly and rebound off the back of her head.
"Will you stop that?!"
"Let's go to Cleveland."
She spins around and looks at Quinn with wide eyes, "Have you been smoking too much weed? Quinn, it's a Sunday night and Cleveland is three fucking hours away! You're crazy. I'm going to bed."
Right as she's about to reach for the nearest ledge in the wall, she feels a hand grab her by the back of her hoodie and pull her into a hug. A heavy stench of alcohol and stale cigarettes wafts into her nose and she understands that this isn't about Quinn being a crazy bitch. This is about Quinn giving in to her need for a friend for once.
"Fuck. Fine. I'm driving, though."
She barely hears the "Thanks, S." make it past Quinn's lips before she grabs the keys to the stupid bright red Volkswagen Jetta parked haphazardly on her lawn and making her way to the car.
It's at about two hours into their drive when Santana hears a soft snore from her right. She smirks and spares a small glance at Quinn Fabray, who had her old Cheerios jacket draped over her shoulders and just a smidgen of drool on the corner of her lips.
Santana couldn't help but smirk and tap her fingers along to the beat of "Kingdom Of Welcome Addiction" as she took a left and made a drop off at the closest drugstore to pick up some ibuprofen and two bottles of water. She may be a bitch but she didn't want to deal with a hungover Quinn Fabray.
As she slid back into the car with the bag of painkillers and water, the song genre changed dramatically and she watched as Quinn stirred slightly. She made a mental note to tease the troll-haired girl about it later.
The clock signals it's six as Santana pulls up onto the coastline of Lake Erie, the sky is showing early signs of oncoming sunrise. It's cliché, she thinks, that's she's currently sitting with a half passed out Quinn Fabray on the coastline of one of the Great Lakes awaiting the sunset. A year ago, they would've been at each other throats, probably betting one another that they could swim across the lake faster than the other. Now, here there were, sitting eastward-faced, nothing but the quiet sound of Florence and The Machine keeping them from eerie silence.
Santana wonders briefly if Quinn had any intentions of opening up to her, she kind of hopes the slightly taller girl won't. She's never been that good at confrontation. Maybe they can both be silent in their comfort, Santana hopes. Maybe she won't have to admit not being a part of something special makes her feel as worthless as a plastic bag drifting in the wind.
She huffs a small breath and turns on one of the overhead lights before pulling out her copy of "The Last Battle" again. She's content in the silence here in the comfort of the small car. Quinn's presence makes her feel less alone, and their silence makes her feel less pressured.
She just about reaches having read two chapters before she hears Quinn's raspy voice, "They all die in the end, except Susan."
Quinn's smile is tired and wavers as soon as she tries to sit up slightly. Santana rolls her eyes and tosses the bottle of generic painkillers to the other girl before returning to her book, ignoring Quinn's small spoiler comment. She keeps reading as Quinn takes her ibuprofen and shoves more skittles into her mouth.
“That’s disgusting.” Santana comment offhandedly, flipping a page and taking a sip of her water.
“I’ve learned it’s the only thing that gets my taste buds working again after a night of drinking and smoking.”
“That’s disgusting.” The Latina repeats, eyes not leaving the page of words, though she wasn’t taking in a single letter at this point.
Quinn gives a small chuckle before turning to stare at the sun that’s peaking over the small hills in front of them, “Look.”
Averting her eyes off the book and to the view in front of her, she couldn’t help but smile a bit. It was a rather amazing sight, the sky was turning a bright hue of orange, lighting Quinn’s hair a blaze as well. “Pretty.” was the only word she let slip pass her lips before sliding her book closed and leaning back in her seat to admire the view.
“It’s okay not be okay, you know.”
Quinn quirked an eyebrow and suppressed a small laugh, “are you quoting Jessie J at me?”
Santana huffed with a blush she would never admit she had on her cheeks, “At least I’m not the one who listens to Roy Orbison!”
“Hey! Shut your ho mouth. He’s a classic.” Quinn poked back, wincing slightly
Things felt quiet as Santana enjoyed the comfortable banter. She felt strangely at home with Quinn. Maybe it was their shared amounts of heartbreak, though she was sure Quinn needed far more fixing did.
“….just be true to who you are.” Quinn sing-songed softly, a teasing smirk on her lips. She was met by an angry arm belonging to Santana Lopez, smacking her right in arm. She couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.
The brunette took a deep breath and nodded, “I’m serious, Q. You’re awesome. I mean, maybe not as awesome as I am, but we’re two of a kind, you know? I… God, I suck at this.” Santana laughed at herself, staring out at the rising sun. She was never one for sharing emotions, they were messy and uncontrollable. But it was all that Quinn needed to be okay, a simple sign of emotion from someone who cared about her. Compromise was always one of the things Santana was good at, and if it meant she would feel less lonely and Quinn would feel better, then she was willing to try to use her emotions like Brittany taught her to.
Quinn looked slightly amused, her stupid nose ring shimmering in the new day sunlight like some kind of stupid symbol of a new time. Santana wanted to tear it out of her nose and demand that they both crawl back to the Glee club on their knees. But they were both too proud to ever actually do it.
As Santana struggled to find a way to express herself, Quinn took in every detail of the moment, not unlike she’d been doing since she’d decided she wouldn’t be returning to the Glee club. Santana looked far to focused and pretty in a simple hoodie and jeans. It made her jealous, really. It made her jealous that Santana was smart and pretty whereas she was just… there. Which is why at eleven PM a week ago, she had stood on the roof of one of the tallest buildings in Lima, ready to throw herself off.
Until she heard her phone ring. The face on her screen made her step back from the ledge and leave the half empty bottle of Jack dripping on the roof floor as she ran down the flights of stairs and back home, eyes brimming with tears as the full idea of what she was about to do impacted her fully. Santana would have brought her back to life only to kill her again if she’d taken her own life.
At this point, Santana had noticed Quinn was spaced out, sitting sideways with her body facing her as she stared blankly into space.
“Earth to Fabray, yo. I did not drive your ass all the way out here to give you a small heart to heart and have you space out on me. Fuck your ass. You so owe me breadstix after this, ho.”
Quinn snapped out of her reverie at the sound of Santana’s voice and couldn’t help but laugh.
“Thanks, S.”
“For what?”
With a heavy breath, Quinn blinked up and stared at Santana through tired eyes, “You called me last week. When you did, I was standing on the edge of a building, ready to jump. I knew there was a part of me that didn’t want to, but I don’t know where that part went. I didn’t feel scared at all. Then your stupid face showed up on my caller ID and I felt like I’d been punched away from the ledge. It took me a week to decide that I needed to be here. I needed to take you and I far away from that godforsaken town for a while. Just to breathe.”
The Latina’s eyes had never been so wide, so shocked and scared as she stared at her longtime friend, “Oh my God, Q. You can’t be serious. That shit isn’t okay. You, Quinn Fabray, are one gorgeous bitch and it would be a waste if your pretty face ended up as a human pancake on the streets of Lima. But you know what? You’re devious too. You’re smart and sly and you can hold your own in a drinking contest with Puck. There’s no reason you should be holding yourself over a grody building thinking about ending your life. And if you ever need someone to talk to and keep you company, you gots me. Gots me?”
Quinn couldn’t contain her smile, “Santana?”
Santana offered her friend an inquiring glance before her eyes nearly jumped out of her eye sockets as Quinn leaned forward and pressed a small chaste kiss to her lips. And at the moment, the CD in the car decided to play RENT’s “I’ll cover you” to which Santana responded by slamming her hand onto the on/off button.
“There is no way in hell I’m going to let that be our song. Berry wouldn’t let us live it down.”
Quinn smirked and leaned further into her friend as their kiss deepened.
It was around seven at night by the time they got back, checking her phone, she’d missed two calls from Mr. Schue and three from Puck.
But they’d just have to wait to ache her heart later, because for the first time in a week, she was content with her heart’s state as she fell into bed with Quinn Fabray.