Sins of My Youth (7/10)
Title: Sins of My Youth (7/10)
Author: only_because3
Rating: I'd say M
Pairing: Santana/Brittany, Quinn/Puck, Quinn/Santana
Word Count: 3984
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: SORRY! Life had taken over for a while and I've actually been seriously working on my novel after I finished my epic fic. This was going to be a bit longer but I think this can stand on its own and, frankly, I owe you all an update! Enjoy!
--
“Sometimes it was just the two of us, like it’d always been and I suddenly remembered how to breathe again… Just me and my baby which was all I’d ever need… All I had.” Santana doesn’t get up from the floor, her finger outlining the curve of Beth’s smile in the picture and Quinn’s hand twitches against her stomach. “I never should have gone over there… It hurts so much more now than it did during those first three days without her.”
Santana puts the picture back in the box, plucking Quinn’s hospital bracelet from the hidden memories. “Why did you go over there?”
“She was mine,” Quinn states and Santana blinks. Once upon a time, she thought she had someone like that. Brittany was hers right? At some point or another, it’d just been them, like all those stolen afternoons at Mitch’s.
She supposes was is the word they both should be paying attention to. Or maybe they shouldn’t have ever thought they had the right to anyone else.
Santana slips her hand into Quinn’s hospital bracelet before she gathers up the rest of the pictures and tucks them back in the box. “It’s not really easy to pretend, is it?” Quinn licks her lips, watching Santana carefully as she stands up. Quinn can still feel how scratchy the bracelet was around her wrist and the way it weighed her to the bed when Beth was taken away. “At the end of the day, we both retreat inside our dark little closets.”
Santana scoops Quinn’s hand in hers, plastic pressing into her skin. A kiss is pressed to Quinn’s lips and just like everything else, it feels achingly familiar. Santana pulls away once they get to the bed and Quinn simply watches as he friend lays out on her side. Quinn’s hospital bracelet is the only thing Santana wears and it seems blindingly white against he tan skin. Quinn doesn’t understand how Santana can move so freely when that bracelet felt like a shackle to her. “Aren’t you going to put that back?”
Santana shrugs, patting the sheets next to her. “I will tomorrow, that way you can’t pretend this didn’t happen.”
Quinn quirks an eyebrow as she sits in her normal spot, fingers picking at the plastic band. “You underestimate my abilities.” Quinn reaches down to the foot of the bed and pulls the sheet over both of them before she lays down.
Santana catches her hand again, this time lacing their fingers together. If there were anymore light, Quinn would be able to call Santana on the look she’s wearing but for now, Quinn decides it’s just shadows tricking her into thinking Santana’s scared. “Tonight never happened,” she asks. “I never made an absolute ass of myself, I don’t know that you were a mother for three months and you-” She stops herself and Quinn watches Santana squeeze her thighs together. “Why the fuck did you even do that?”
Quinn’s fingers slip beneath the flat square where her information is typed, along with the words ‘Baby Girl Fabray’. “You were upset.” Her voice is tinier than she’d like it to be
Santana looks up at the ceiling, shaking her head. “So you decided to explore lesbianism?”
“Are you saying that what you and Brittany did was different?”
Santana pulls her wrist away from Quinn, glaring at the blonde as she tries to put more space between them. “You’re a lot fucking smarter than that.”
“I’m not going to push you on something I know you don’t want to talk about. Isn’t that something friends do?” Santana’s hand rests on her stomach and Quinn swallows hard, carefully taking Santana’s hand in hers. Santana doesn’t pull away but she doesn’t get any closer either, their hands rising and falling with each breath Santana takes. “I was just trying to take your mind off everything and maybe make you feel better. That’s all okay?”
Santana sighs, their hands sinking into her stomach. “Okay.”
Somehow, Quinn thinks that wasn’t the right thing to say.
--
Quinn wakes up this time not because she’s alone in bed, but because everything feels too close. She doesn’t really know how they got like this when for months they were able to share this bed without touching. But Santana is pressed against her back and Quinn can feel the hospital bracelet pressing into her spine. Her head is sinking in to her pillow and the sheet somehow got balled up in front of her. She pushes it away violently as she realizes her arms cradle it the same way they cradled her stomach when she was pregnant, Santana jerking awake behind her.
“Stop,” Santana pleas, clutching her forehead as she rolls on to her back. “Please just… No sudden movements.” Santana groans behind her as Quinn slinks from the bed, dropping into a heap on the floor. She rummages through Santana’s bag, ignoring the fact that the remote is digging into her ass until she finds a bottle of Aleve.
“Is there any water next to you?” Santana just groans again before complaining about Quinn’s useless curtains. Quinn sighs and dry swallows one of the pills before taking out two for Santana. “Here,” she offers, stretching across the bed. Quinn stays sprawled out on the mattress once Santana takes the pills from her, her eyes heavy and her whole body sticky from the heat that’s swallowing Lima whole.
There’s so much she doesn’t want to deal with right now and so Quinn focuses on the only thing she can: breathing. She breathes evenly, deeply, staring at the triangle of moles on Santana’s ribs. She briefly thinks about reaching out to trace them before remembering she touched that spot last night, when it was dark and just the two of them. Now that the sun is flooding the room, everything is clearer and different. She can feel her heart start to beat harder against her chest. “I should get ready for work,” she sighs, pushing herself on to her elbows.
Santana peeks out from behind her arm, the hospital bracelet catching in her thick hair. Quinn can’t make out the look on her friend’s face but her heart pounds a little harder and her breath catch as Santana just continues to look at her. “He doesn’t know, does he,” Santana asks and no, Quinn can’t do this right now. Quinn pushes herself off the bed and when Santana doesn’t say anything or follow her, she feels herself breathe a little easier again.
--
She gives Quinn five minutes purely because she’s hungover and not at all eager to deal with her own shit just yet. (Santana knows Quinn. That bitch’ll definitely bring up Brittany just to deflect.) It still vaguely smells like vomit in the bathroom and damn it, it almost makes Santana reconsider barging in because Quinn had to clean her throw up last night.
Quinn sits, completely curled into herself, as the shower runs over her. “If you want to date him or fuck him or whatever, keeping that from him is shitty.”
“Shut up, Santana.” Quinn’s voice is garbled, her face hidden behind the fog on the shower door, and Santana runs her fingers through her hair.
“Clearly I shouldn’t have been so angry with Puck for making out with you and fucking the whale because this is probably even more fucked up.” She can vaguely see Quinn shaking her head and Santana crosses her arms under her chest. “Has he even seen Beth since you got rid of her?”
Quinn gets to her feet so fast that she slips a little, but she grabs on to the shower door, and slides it open. It rattles against the other and Santana takes a step back in fear of it shattering. “I didn’t get rid of her,” Quinn screams. Santana can finally see how red Quinn’s eyes are and she’d be lying if she said that the way Quinn’s shaking wasn’t scaring her. “You have no fucking idea what it’s like to have the greatest thing ever taken from you.” Santana opens her mouth but Quinn shakes her head, reaching out to grab Santana’s wrist. “You’ve been without Brittany for what? Less than a day?”
“Don’t fucking bring her into this,” Santana starts when Quinn’s fingers dig into her skin.
“I love Puck, and that’s why I don’t want him to feel as shitty as I do.” Quinn looks Santana up her down, shaking her head. “Like we do.”
Santana’s body sags. “Q…” Quinn shakes her head, shoving Santana away from her.
“I’ve already lost my baby… I can’t lose him too.”
She can tell that Quinn is trying the absolute hardest not to cry and Santana wonders if she should get one of Quinn’s pills to calm her down. The blonde is still shaking and she’s starting to gasp for breath. “Are you going to throw up or pass out,” Santana asks and when Quinn doesn’t respond, she steps forward, taking Quinn’s hand off the shower. “Sit down.” Quinn lets out this noise from the back of her throat (god she sounds like a kicked puppy) as Santana takes Quinn’s hands in hers. Santana steps in the tub behind Quinn, hissing when the scalding hot water hits her toes.
“Go away please,” Quinn grits out, letting go of Santana’s hand and curling into herself again as she sits down.
“No.” Quinn looks up at her and Santana frowns, pushing Quinn’s fading blonde hair off her face. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Quinn’s head drops to her knees and Santana sits down behind the blonde. She wraps her arms around Quinn, her thighs on either side of her friend and presses a kiss on the back of Quinn’s neck. “I know all you’re shit and I’m still here. You won’t lose me.”
An ugly, wretched sob tears through Quinn’s throat and Santana has never seen Quinn cry like this before.
She completely understands why Quinn did what she did last night. Quinn is literally breaking in her arms and Santana knows that words will fall short. She’ll say something wrong or not enough and the only other thing that Santana can think to do is hold Quinn, kiss her, make her forget…
Quinn’s hands hold on to Santana’s forearm and bites into her flesh, releasing a scream as she cries. Santana just kisses her neck until the water goes cold and Quinn stops shaking.
--
Santana thinks Quinn is going to have another panic attack when she tells her that she’s not letting Quinn go to work. Instead of telling Quinn that she looks like absolute shit when she complains, Santana just glares and dials Quinn’s boss for her.
Quinn passes out shortly after that and Santana is about to do the same when the front door closes. She grabs one of Quinn’s dresses from the floor when she hears Judy’s laugh, making sure her boobs aren’t completely busting out of the top before heading downstairs.
This time Judy and Russell are in the living room and it’s really kind of gross the way they’re looking at each other. Santana clears her throat and Judy tears her eyes away from her husband. “Oh, hello Santana.” Russell looks back at her too and she’s sure she looks absolutely ridiculous in this dress (it’s like, two sizes too small on the top and this yellow is stupidly cheerful, which is hilarious because it’s Quinn’s) but she doesn’t really give a shit about whether or not she has Russell’s approval. “Did you need something?”
“Quinn’s home.”
Russell coughs and Judy’s eyes widen. “But she’s supposed to be at work.”
“She’s sick,” Santana answers simply. “She’s asleep upstairs right now.”
Russell rolls his eyes before clearing his throat. “We can go to my apartment, Jude,” he says, reaching for her hand but Judy slaps it away.
“Is she alright? She doesn’t have a fever does she?” She knows that Judy isn’t horrible but it’s still weird to see her act so motherly. It’s like seeing a teacher out of school.
“She’s fine. We’ve managed all morning. I’m just letting you guys know.”
“Thank you,” Russell says and Santana rolls her eyes.
“Quinn doesn’t need to deal with this fuckery when she’s sick. I hope she finds out about you two as soon as possible.”
Russell’s face turns red and Santana sees his hands flex. “You’ve been letting this piece of trash stay here?”
“Excuse me,” Santana shouts and Judy jumps up, stepping so she’s slightly in front of Russell.
“Both of you, please just…” Judy shakes her head and, no, this is bullshit.
“I now completely understand why Quinn hates both of you.”
She thinks Judy might look hurt when Santana turns to walk away but she doesn’t give a shit. She can only handle so many Fabray problems in one day.
--
She can’t be laying down for more than 5 minutes when there’s a soft knock on the door. Quinn stirs a little next to her but then, thankfully, starts snoring again.
“Santana? Can I speak with you for a minute?”
Santana manages to find one of her own tank tops and an old pair of Cheerio shorts that really could belong to either of them. She opens the door just enough to see Judy’s face. She notices that Judy took off all of her eye make up but that her lips have a fresh coat of lipstick. “Downstairs, please? I don’t want to wake Quinn.”
Santana slips out the door. “Are you kicking me out,” she asks. “Because I have things I need to grab if you are.”
Judy shakes her head as she starts down the stairs. “You’re always welcome here.”
“If Russell is going to apologize-”
“I sent Russell home.” Judy clears her throat, hands adjusting the waist of her pencil skirt. “He wouldn’t have apologized even if he was here, you know that.” Judy sits where she had been earlier, her posture rigid, and pats the cushion next to her. “I am sorry for what he said to you though. It was completely inappropriate.”
Santana rolls her eyes. “Little late for apologizes, Judy.” Santana drops down on to the couch, her arms crossed under her chest. “Are you going to like… Convince me to keep quiet again?”
“Is Quinn okay? She’s not…” Judy bites her bottom lip and, fuck, it’s kind of crazy how 10 minutes ago she looked like some school girl with eyes she was giving Russell but now she looks worn down and sad. God, what’s even worse she that Judy looks even more like Quinn when she looks like this. “She’s not…” Judy sighs, hand coming up to rub along her brow. “Is she purging again?”
“What? No, of course not.” Judy exhales, her body relaxing into the couch. “Quinn hasn’t done that since she found out about…”
Judy shakes her head so discretely that Santana almost doesn’t catch it but blue eyes start to well up with tears. “I just wanted to make sure. I know that I haven’t exactly been helpful when it comes to that.”
Santana coughs. “She just had a really bad panic attack.”
Judy nods. “So she’s okay?”
“Okay is not a word I’d use to describe Quinn,” Santana scoffs.
Judy runs her hands over her thighs. “I know I’m not a great parent-”
“You’re actually kind of a shitty parent.”
“There’s no manual for this stuff, Santana. It’s hard.” Santana folds her legs Indian style and pulls one of the throw pillows into her lap. She needs to prepare herself for the crap Judy is going to try and feed her. “I’ve been with Russell for nearly 30 years. How am I just supposed to throw that all away?”
“Um, I don’t know, maybe think of all the absolutely horrible shit he did to you and your daughters?” She knows her own mother isn’t perfect and, well, if she ever found out about the lady loving, her mom would kick her out on her ass, but at least her mom doesn’t take any of her father’s bullshit. Santana can remember one of the rare times her parents were both home when she was younger and they’d been fighting. Her dad told her mom to shut up and her mom locked her dad out of the house. “I’m pretty sure my parents only like each other now but they still treat each other better than Russell treats you.”
“It’s not easy to just let someone you love go, no matter what they do to you. You may be too young to understand that now-”
Santana shoves the pillow she’s been holding into Judy’s lap. “He cheated on you! He threw your daughter out of the house! And he’s a drunk! If you want to let him treat you like crap, fine. But it’s disgusting that you’d let him back into your life when Quinn, your daughter, is still in it.”
Judy gets to her feet when Santana does. “I’m trying to figure out what’s right.”
“Yeah, well, you’re doing a shit job.” She turns to go back upstairs but then there’s a hand on her shoulder. Manicured nails and Judy’s wedding ring (Santana can’t remember the last time she saw it on the woman’s hand) fill her vision. Santana locks her jaw and turns, trying not to notice the tears filling Judy’s eyes.
“Don’t speak to me like that.” Judy’s voice is small but her shoulders are rolled back, her posture perfect. Santana knows she shouldn’t speak like this to a parent but, no. Judy isn’t exactly a parent to anyone. Just because Quinn shot out of her, doesn’t mean she deserves any ounce of respect, especially when Santana care more about Quinn than Judy. “How do you expect me to stand up to my husband when I allow you to walk all over me too?”
“Do you still love him?”
Judy’s hand drops to her side. Her nails dig into her thighs through her skirt, her shoulders slipping just a little. “I don’t think you can ever really fall out of love with someone, Santana.”
“Wonderful,” Santana mutters under her breath. She bites her bottom lip for a second before she drops it; she’s been spending too much time with Quinn if she’s starting to do that now. “Look, I’m just trying to be honest with you. I’ll try and be more… Respectful in the future, but as long as I feel like I’m the only one in this house who actually gives a fuck about that girl upstairs, I’m not retracting my claws.”
Sighing, Judy nods, her hand coming up to wipe away the few tears that land on her cheeks. “She’s lucky to have you as a friend.”
Santana rolls her eyes before heading upstairs.
--
She wakes up to the most annoying array of sounds. A phone keeps vibrating endlessly against the bedside table and another, she thinks hers, is chiming every five minutes, not to mention the stupid bird that’s made a nest just outside her window. “San, shut everything up,” Quinn grumbles, folding her pillow around her head. The noises don’t stop, at least not the ones Santana can deal with, and Quinn juts out her leg to wake the brunette up, but her leg just slides easily across the mattress. Rolling on to her stomach, Quinn props herself on to her elbows. She shakes her hair out of her face the best she can, only pushing it back when she realizes that Santana’s just walking into the room. “Where’d you go?”
Santana starts to say something but then the phones start up again and Santana’s face pinches. “Who is blowing up our fucking phones?” Santana grabs one of the phones, Quinn’s, off the floor, and looks at it once before tossing it to Quinn. “S’your boy toy.”
Quinn doesn’t even bother checking the messages (or the two voicemails) before turning her phone off. “I’m guessing yours is Brittany? Or maybe your mom?” Santana glares as she taps at her phone and Quinn drops down on her stomach, wrapping her arms around her pillow. “What’d she say?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Santana breathes out. Dropping on to the bed, Santana turns on the tv, her phone silenced and back on the floor. Santana won’t look at her, just stays staring at the tv, but Quinn doesn’t stop looking at her. Santana pulls repeatedly at the loose thread on her tank top and won’t stop fidgeting, her leg jiggling to the point where Quinn’s getting annoyed.
Quinn pokes her with her foot. “What did she say, Santana?”
“Nothing she hasn’t already told me.” Quinn pokes her again and Santana shrugs, looking at her for a moment before going back to the tv. “Are we okay?” Quinn blinks, her head cocking a little.
“Why wouldn’t we be,” Quinn asks and Santana scoffs, pulling her hair into a bun before she lets it fall around her shoulders again.
“Are you shitting me? Everything’s different now.”
Quinn pushes herself up, pulling just enough of the sheet on her lap to cover her. “No. Nothing has to change.”
“Bullshit.” The hospital bracelet is still around Santana’s wrist and Quinn takes a deep breath. “I’ve fucked friends before and in case you’ve blocked it out, it didn’t end well.”
“Trust me, Santana,” Quinn starts as she stands up, the sheet falling and leaving her nude not for the first time in front of her friend, “I’m not going to end up like Brittany. I’m not going to fall in love with you and you are not going to fall in love with me.”
“Okay, so let’s say we never fuck again. Fine. That doesn’t mean I can block out the rest of your crap anymore. You are such a mess and I’m not going to enable you anymore.”
Quinn steps into the first pair of underwear she pulls from the drawer, the fabric snapping at her hips. “Enable me? I’ve been functioning well enough this summer exactly as we were.”
She crosses her arms underneath her chest and Santana rolls her eyes. “You’ve been functioning. You need to start fucking living, Quinn. We both do. We’ve been through so much shit and ignoring it clearly isn’t fucking working. If anything, we’re both even more screwed than before.”
Santana sounds too much like the therapist the hospital made her speak to after she gave up custody of Beth. Quinn can’t even remember the woman’s name now, only what she said. “What you’ve just gone through is exceptionally hard, Lucy.” The use of her first name caused her to tense and her entire body ached more than she thought it could. “It’s not something any woman, no matter what age, can easily move past. Most women find it beneficial to talk through what they’re feeling. Otherwise, it’ll just eat at you.” Her mom had been right next to her, had taken the list of therapists the woman recommended, thanked the woman for really doing absolutely nothing. They didn’t talk about it until Quinn was back home in her own bed for the first time in months, but Judy didn’t push it when Quinn simply replied that she would be fine.
“Can we please just stop lying to each other,” Santana pleads. She doesn’t sound desperate, doesn’t look it. Santana tucks her thumbs between her fingers and squeezes her hands into fists as she waits, only relaxing when Quinn does. “Brittany fucking told me she was sorry and that she’s going to stop going to the parties on weekends because she doesn’t want to see me. I’m literally not going to see her anymore.”
Quinn swallows hard. She brings her thumb up, chewing at her skin before standing straight. “I can’t stop crying as easy as you,” she admits.
Santana breathes out, nodding carefully as she pats the space next to her.
Author: only_because3
Rating: I'd say M
Pairing: Santana/Brittany, Quinn/Puck, Quinn/Santana
Word Count: 3984
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: SORRY! Life had taken over for a while and I've actually been seriously working on my novel after I finished my epic fic. This was going to be a bit longer but I think this can stand on its own and, frankly, I owe you all an update! Enjoy!
--
“Sometimes it was just the two of us, like it’d always been and I suddenly remembered how to breathe again… Just me and my baby which was all I’d ever need… All I had.” Santana doesn’t get up from the floor, her finger outlining the curve of Beth’s smile in the picture and Quinn’s hand twitches against her stomach. “I never should have gone over there… It hurts so much more now than it did during those first three days without her.”
Santana puts the picture back in the box, plucking Quinn’s hospital bracelet from the hidden memories. “Why did you go over there?”
“She was mine,” Quinn states and Santana blinks. Once upon a time, she thought she had someone like that. Brittany was hers right? At some point or another, it’d just been them, like all those stolen afternoons at Mitch’s.
She supposes was is the word they both should be paying attention to. Or maybe they shouldn’t have ever thought they had the right to anyone else.
Santana slips her hand into Quinn’s hospital bracelet before she gathers up the rest of the pictures and tucks them back in the box. “It’s not really easy to pretend, is it?” Quinn licks her lips, watching Santana carefully as she stands up. Quinn can still feel how scratchy the bracelet was around her wrist and the way it weighed her to the bed when Beth was taken away. “At the end of the day, we both retreat inside our dark little closets.”
Santana scoops Quinn’s hand in hers, plastic pressing into her skin. A kiss is pressed to Quinn’s lips and just like everything else, it feels achingly familiar. Santana pulls away once they get to the bed and Quinn simply watches as he friend lays out on her side. Quinn’s hospital bracelet is the only thing Santana wears and it seems blindingly white against he tan skin. Quinn doesn’t understand how Santana can move so freely when that bracelet felt like a shackle to her. “Aren’t you going to put that back?”
Santana shrugs, patting the sheets next to her. “I will tomorrow, that way you can’t pretend this didn’t happen.”
Quinn quirks an eyebrow as she sits in her normal spot, fingers picking at the plastic band. “You underestimate my abilities.” Quinn reaches down to the foot of the bed and pulls the sheet over both of them before she lays down.
Santana catches her hand again, this time lacing their fingers together. If there were anymore light, Quinn would be able to call Santana on the look she’s wearing but for now, Quinn decides it’s just shadows tricking her into thinking Santana’s scared. “Tonight never happened,” she asks. “I never made an absolute ass of myself, I don’t know that you were a mother for three months and you-” She stops herself and Quinn watches Santana squeeze her thighs together. “Why the fuck did you even do that?”
Quinn’s fingers slip beneath the flat square where her information is typed, along with the words ‘Baby Girl Fabray’. “You were upset.” Her voice is tinier than she’d like it to be
Santana looks up at the ceiling, shaking her head. “So you decided to explore lesbianism?”
“Are you saying that what you and Brittany did was different?”
Santana pulls her wrist away from Quinn, glaring at the blonde as she tries to put more space between them. “You’re a lot fucking smarter than that.”
“I’m not going to push you on something I know you don’t want to talk about. Isn’t that something friends do?” Santana’s hand rests on her stomach and Quinn swallows hard, carefully taking Santana’s hand in hers. Santana doesn’t pull away but she doesn’t get any closer either, their hands rising and falling with each breath Santana takes. “I was just trying to take your mind off everything and maybe make you feel better. That’s all okay?”
Santana sighs, their hands sinking into her stomach. “Okay.”
Somehow, Quinn thinks that wasn’t the right thing to say.
--
Quinn wakes up this time not because she’s alone in bed, but because everything feels too close. She doesn’t really know how they got like this when for months they were able to share this bed without touching. But Santana is pressed against her back and Quinn can feel the hospital bracelet pressing into her spine. Her head is sinking in to her pillow and the sheet somehow got balled up in front of her. She pushes it away violently as she realizes her arms cradle it the same way they cradled her stomach when she was pregnant, Santana jerking awake behind her.
“Stop,” Santana pleas, clutching her forehead as she rolls on to her back. “Please just… No sudden movements.” Santana groans behind her as Quinn slinks from the bed, dropping into a heap on the floor. She rummages through Santana’s bag, ignoring the fact that the remote is digging into her ass until she finds a bottle of Aleve.
“Is there any water next to you?” Santana just groans again before complaining about Quinn’s useless curtains. Quinn sighs and dry swallows one of the pills before taking out two for Santana. “Here,” she offers, stretching across the bed. Quinn stays sprawled out on the mattress once Santana takes the pills from her, her eyes heavy and her whole body sticky from the heat that’s swallowing Lima whole.
There’s so much she doesn’t want to deal with right now and so Quinn focuses on the only thing she can: breathing. She breathes evenly, deeply, staring at the triangle of moles on Santana’s ribs. She briefly thinks about reaching out to trace them before remembering she touched that spot last night, when it was dark and just the two of them. Now that the sun is flooding the room, everything is clearer and different. She can feel her heart start to beat harder against her chest. “I should get ready for work,” she sighs, pushing herself on to her elbows.
Santana peeks out from behind her arm, the hospital bracelet catching in her thick hair. Quinn can’t make out the look on her friend’s face but her heart pounds a little harder and her breath catch as Santana just continues to look at her. “He doesn’t know, does he,” Santana asks and no, Quinn can’t do this right now. Quinn pushes herself off the bed and when Santana doesn’t say anything or follow her, she feels herself breathe a little easier again.
--
She gives Quinn five minutes purely because she’s hungover and not at all eager to deal with her own shit just yet. (Santana knows Quinn. That bitch’ll definitely bring up Brittany just to deflect.) It still vaguely smells like vomit in the bathroom and damn it, it almost makes Santana reconsider barging in because Quinn had to clean her throw up last night.
Quinn sits, completely curled into herself, as the shower runs over her. “If you want to date him or fuck him or whatever, keeping that from him is shitty.”
“Shut up, Santana.” Quinn’s voice is garbled, her face hidden behind the fog on the shower door, and Santana runs her fingers through her hair.
“Clearly I shouldn’t have been so angry with Puck for making out with you and fucking the whale because this is probably even more fucked up.” She can vaguely see Quinn shaking her head and Santana crosses her arms under her chest. “Has he even seen Beth since you got rid of her?”
Quinn gets to her feet so fast that she slips a little, but she grabs on to the shower door, and slides it open. It rattles against the other and Santana takes a step back in fear of it shattering. “I didn’t get rid of her,” Quinn screams. Santana can finally see how red Quinn’s eyes are and she’d be lying if she said that the way Quinn’s shaking wasn’t scaring her. “You have no fucking idea what it’s like to have the greatest thing ever taken from you.” Santana opens her mouth but Quinn shakes her head, reaching out to grab Santana’s wrist. “You’ve been without Brittany for what? Less than a day?”
“Don’t fucking bring her into this,” Santana starts when Quinn’s fingers dig into her skin.
“I love Puck, and that’s why I don’t want him to feel as shitty as I do.” Quinn looks Santana up her down, shaking her head. “Like we do.”
Santana’s body sags. “Q…” Quinn shakes her head, shoving Santana away from her.
“I’ve already lost my baby… I can’t lose him too.”
She can tell that Quinn is trying the absolute hardest not to cry and Santana wonders if she should get one of Quinn’s pills to calm her down. The blonde is still shaking and she’s starting to gasp for breath. “Are you going to throw up or pass out,” Santana asks and when Quinn doesn’t respond, she steps forward, taking Quinn’s hand off the shower. “Sit down.” Quinn lets out this noise from the back of her throat (god she sounds like a kicked puppy) as Santana takes Quinn’s hands in hers. Santana steps in the tub behind Quinn, hissing when the scalding hot water hits her toes.
“Go away please,” Quinn grits out, letting go of Santana’s hand and curling into herself again as she sits down.
“No.” Quinn looks up at her and Santana frowns, pushing Quinn’s fading blonde hair off her face. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Quinn’s head drops to her knees and Santana sits down behind the blonde. She wraps her arms around Quinn, her thighs on either side of her friend and presses a kiss on the back of Quinn’s neck. “I know all you’re shit and I’m still here. You won’t lose me.”
An ugly, wretched sob tears through Quinn’s throat and Santana has never seen Quinn cry like this before.
She completely understands why Quinn did what she did last night. Quinn is literally breaking in her arms and Santana knows that words will fall short. She’ll say something wrong or not enough and the only other thing that Santana can think to do is hold Quinn, kiss her, make her forget…
Quinn’s hands hold on to Santana’s forearm and bites into her flesh, releasing a scream as she cries. Santana just kisses her neck until the water goes cold and Quinn stops shaking.
--
Santana thinks Quinn is going to have another panic attack when she tells her that she’s not letting Quinn go to work. Instead of telling Quinn that she looks like absolute shit when she complains, Santana just glares and dials Quinn’s boss for her.
Quinn passes out shortly after that and Santana is about to do the same when the front door closes. She grabs one of Quinn’s dresses from the floor when she hears Judy’s laugh, making sure her boobs aren’t completely busting out of the top before heading downstairs.
This time Judy and Russell are in the living room and it’s really kind of gross the way they’re looking at each other. Santana clears her throat and Judy tears her eyes away from her husband. “Oh, hello Santana.” Russell looks back at her too and she’s sure she looks absolutely ridiculous in this dress (it’s like, two sizes too small on the top and this yellow is stupidly cheerful, which is hilarious because it’s Quinn’s) but she doesn’t really give a shit about whether or not she has Russell’s approval. “Did you need something?”
“Quinn’s home.”
Russell coughs and Judy’s eyes widen. “But she’s supposed to be at work.”
“She’s sick,” Santana answers simply. “She’s asleep upstairs right now.”
Russell rolls his eyes before clearing his throat. “We can go to my apartment, Jude,” he says, reaching for her hand but Judy slaps it away.
“Is she alright? She doesn’t have a fever does she?” She knows that Judy isn’t horrible but it’s still weird to see her act so motherly. It’s like seeing a teacher out of school.
“She’s fine. We’ve managed all morning. I’m just letting you guys know.”
“Thank you,” Russell says and Santana rolls her eyes.
“Quinn doesn’t need to deal with this fuckery when she’s sick. I hope she finds out about you two as soon as possible.”
Russell’s face turns red and Santana sees his hands flex. “You’ve been letting this piece of trash stay here?”
“Excuse me,” Santana shouts and Judy jumps up, stepping so she’s slightly in front of Russell.
“Both of you, please just…” Judy shakes her head and, no, this is bullshit.
“I now completely understand why Quinn hates both of you.”
She thinks Judy might look hurt when Santana turns to walk away but she doesn’t give a shit. She can only handle so many Fabray problems in one day.
--
She can’t be laying down for more than 5 minutes when there’s a soft knock on the door. Quinn stirs a little next to her but then, thankfully, starts snoring again.
“Santana? Can I speak with you for a minute?”
Santana manages to find one of her own tank tops and an old pair of Cheerio shorts that really could belong to either of them. She opens the door just enough to see Judy’s face. She notices that Judy took off all of her eye make up but that her lips have a fresh coat of lipstick. “Downstairs, please? I don’t want to wake Quinn.”
Santana slips out the door. “Are you kicking me out,” she asks. “Because I have things I need to grab if you are.”
Judy shakes her head as she starts down the stairs. “You’re always welcome here.”
“If Russell is going to apologize-”
“I sent Russell home.” Judy clears her throat, hands adjusting the waist of her pencil skirt. “He wouldn’t have apologized even if he was here, you know that.” Judy sits where she had been earlier, her posture rigid, and pats the cushion next to her. “I am sorry for what he said to you though. It was completely inappropriate.”
Santana rolls her eyes. “Little late for apologizes, Judy.” Santana drops down on to the couch, her arms crossed under her chest. “Are you going to like… Convince me to keep quiet again?”
“Is Quinn okay? She’s not…” Judy bites her bottom lip and, fuck, it’s kind of crazy how 10 minutes ago she looked like some school girl with eyes she was giving Russell but now she looks worn down and sad. God, what’s even worse she that Judy looks even more like Quinn when she looks like this. “She’s not…” Judy sighs, hand coming up to rub along her brow. “Is she purging again?”
“What? No, of course not.” Judy exhales, her body relaxing into the couch. “Quinn hasn’t done that since she found out about…”
Judy shakes her head so discretely that Santana almost doesn’t catch it but blue eyes start to well up with tears. “I just wanted to make sure. I know that I haven’t exactly been helpful when it comes to that.”
Santana coughs. “She just had a really bad panic attack.”
Judy nods. “So she’s okay?”
“Okay is not a word I’d use to describe Quinn,” Santana scoffs.
Judy runs her hands over her thighs. “I know I’m not a great parent-”
“You’re actually kind of a shitty parent.”
“There’s no manual for this stuff, Santana. It’s hard.” Santana folds her legs Indian style and pulls one of the throw pillows into her lap. She needs to prepare herself for the crap Judy is going to try and feed her. “I’ve been with Russell for nearly 30 years. How am I just supposed to throw that all away?”
“Um, I don’t know, maybe think of all the absolutely horrible shit he did to you and your daughters?” She knows her own mother isn’t perfect and, well, if she ever found out about the lady loving, her mom would kick her out on her ass, but at least her mom doesn’t take any of her father’s bullshit. Santana can remember one of the rare times her parents were both home when she was younger and they’d been fighting. Her dad told her mom to shut up and her mom locked her dad out of the house. “I’m pretty sure my parents only like each other now but they still treat each other better than Russell treats you.”
“It’s not easy to just let someone you love go, no matter what they do to you. You may be too young to understand that now-”
Santana shoves the pillow she’s been holding into Judy’s lap. “He cheated on you! He threw your daughter out of the house! And he’s a drunk! If you want to let him treat you like crap, fine. But it’s disgusting that you’d let him back into your life when Quinn, your daughter, is still in it.”
Judy gets to her feet when Santana does. “I’m trying to figure out what’s right.”
“Yeah, well, you’re doing a shit job.” She turns to go back upstairs but then there’s a hand on her shoulder. Manicured nails and Judy’s wedding ring (Santana can’t remember the last time she saw it on the woman’s hand) fill her vision. Santana locks her jaw and turns, trying not to notice the tears filling Judy’s eyes.
“Don’t speak to me like that.” Judy’s voice is small but her shoulders are rolled back, her posture perfect. Santana knows she shouldn’t speak like this to a parent but, no. Judy isn’t exactly a parent to anyone. Just because Quinn shot out of her, doesn’t mean she deserves any ounce of respect, especially when Santana care more about Quinn than Judy. “How do you expect me to stand up to my husband when I allow you to walk all over me too?”
“Do you still love him?”
Judy’s hand drops to her side. Her nails dig into her thighs through her skirt, her shoulders slipping just a little. “I don’t think you can ever really fall out of love with someone, Santana.”
“Wonderful,” Santana mutters under her breath. She bites her bottom lip for a second before she drops it; she’s been spending too much time with Quinn if she’s starting to do that now. “Look, I’m just trying to be honest with you. I’ll try and be more… Respectful in the future, but as long as I feel like I’m the only one in this house who actually gives a fuck about that girl upstairs, I’m not retracting my claws.”
Sighing, Judy nods, her hand coming up to wipe away the few tears that land on her cheeks. “She’s lucky to have you as a friend.”
Santana rolls her eyes before heading upstairs.
--
She wakes up to the most annoying array of sounds. A phone keeps vibrating endlessly against the bedside table and another, she thinks hers, is chiming every five minutes, not to mention the stupid bird that’s made a nest just outside her window. “San, shut everything up,” Quinn grumbles, folding her pillow around her head. The noises don’t stop, at least not the ones Santana can deal with, and Quinn juts out her leg to wake the brunette up, but her leg just slides easily across the mattress. Rolling on to her stomach, Quinn props herself on to her elbows. She shakes her hair out of her face the best she can, only pushing it back when she realizes that Santana’s just walking into the room. “Where’d you go?”
Santana starts to say something but then the phones start up again and Santana’s face pinches. “Who is blowing up our fucking phones?” Santana grabs one of the phones, Quinn’s, off the floor, and looks at it once before tossing it to Quinn. “S’your boy toy.”
Quinn doesn’t even bother checking the messages (or the two voicemails) before turning her phone off. “I’m guessing yours is Brittany? Or maybe your mom?” Santana glares as she taps at her phone and Quinn drops down on her stomach, wrapping her arms around her pillow. “What’d she say?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Santana breathes out. Dropping on to the bed, Santana turns on the tv, her phone silenced and back on the floor. Santana won’t look at her, just stays staring at the tv, but Quinn doesn’t stop looking at her. Santana pulls repeatedly at the loose thread on her tank top and won’t stop fidgeting, her leg jiggling to the point where Quinn’s getting annoyed.
Quinn pokes her with her foot. “What did she say, Santana?”
“Nothing she hasn’t already told me.” Quinn pokes her again and Santana shrugs, looking at her for a moment before going back to the tv. “Are we okay?” Quinn blinks, her head cocking a little.
“Why wouldn’t we be,” Quinn asks and Santana scoffs, pulling her hair into a bun before she lets it fall around her shoulders again.
“Are you shitting me? Everything’s different now.”
Quinn pushes herself up, pulling just enough of the sheet on her lap to cover her. “No. Nothing has to change.”
“Bullshit.” The hospital bracelet is still around Santana’s wrist and Quinn takes a deep breath. “I’ve fucked friends before and in case you’ve blocked it out, it didn’t end well.”
“Trust me, Santana,” Quinn starts as she stands up, the sheet falling and leaving her nude not for the first time in front of her friend, “I’m not going to end up like Brittany. I’m not going to fall in love with you and you are not going to fall in love with me.”
“Okay, so let’s say we never fuck again. Fine. That doesn’t mean I can block out the rest of your crap anymore. You are such a mess and I’m not going to enable you anymore.”
Quinn steps into the first pair of underwear she pulls from the drawer, the fabric snapping at her hips. “Enable me? I’ve been functioning well enough this summer exactly as we were.”
She crosses her arms underneath her chest and Santana rolls her eyes. “You’ve been functioning. You need to start fucking living, Quinn. We both do. We’ve been through so much shit and ignoring it clearly isn’t fucking working. If anything, we’re both even more screwed than before.”
Santana sounds too much like the therapist the hospital made her speak to after she gave up custody of Beth. Quinn can’t even remember the woman’s name now, only what she said. “What you’ve just gone through is exceptionally hard, Lucy.” The use of her first name caused her to tense and her entire body ached more than she thought it could. “It’s not something any woman, no matter what age, can easily move past. Most women find it beneficial to talk through what they’re feeling. Otherwise, it’ll just eat at you.” Her mom had been right next to her, had taken the list of therapists the woman recommended, thanked the woman for really doing absolutely nothing. They didn’t talk about it until Quinn was back home in her own bed for the first time in months, but Judy didn’t push it when Quinn simply replied that she would be fine.
“Can we please just stop lying to each other,” Santana pleads. She doesn’t sound desperate, doesn’t look it. Santana tucks her thumbs between her fingers and squeezes her hands into fists as she waits, only relaxing when Quinn does. “Brittany fucking told me she was sorry and that she’s going to stop going to the parties on weekends because she doesn’t want to see me. I’m literally not going to see her anymore.”
Quinn swallows hard. She brings her thumb up, chewing at her skin before standing straight. “I can’t stop crying as easy as you,” she admits.
Santana breathes out, nodding carefully as she pats the space next to her.