The Best You Can Do Is To Fake It
Title: The Best You Can Do Is To Fake It
Author: only_becuase3
Main Characters/Pairings: Quinn/Santana (mentions of Quinn/Rachel, Santana/Brittany)
Rating: T?
Summary: Based on the prompt: Santana/Quinn "We can stop pretending now, Quinn. We both know that you're wishing I was Rachel and I'm wishing you were Brittany."
Author's Note: Blagh. I saw this prompt over on the glee_angst_meme and got all excited but I'm not sure I like how this turned out. I worte it in like, ten minutes so I apologize if this is horrible! Title from U2's 'Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own'. OH! Also, this is the first time I'm writing femslash. Like, techinically I've written it before but this is the first time there are no boys in the mix...
--
It’s easy when they’re having sex. Quinn can pretend that the tan skin intertwining with hers belongs to Rachel. She can pretend that the dark locks she threads her fingers through, pushing the other girl closer to her, belong to Rachel. And if she moans loud enough, she can block out the sounds Santana makes and she can keep on believing it’s Rachel that is still in her bed and not her friend since the sixth grade.
It’s a little bit easier for Santana. Quinn’s pale skin is the same as Brittany’s, her blonde hair not quite as blond but close enough. Quinn wears the same chapstick that Brittany does and so when they kiss, she tastes what she remembers Brittany tasting like (a mixture of strawberry and apple). Plus Quinn does this thing with her tongue that Brittany used to do (she’s not as good though).
So when they’re rolling around in bed, it’s easy. When it’s all over though, they lay there awkwardly next to one another, hair mused and chests heaving. Usually with Rachel, Quinn would cuddle. With Brittany, Santana would link their pinkies.
Quinn and Santana don’t touch each other. They lay on the edges of the bed until one of them suggests, “Burgers?” It surprises Santana more than it should when Quinn always beats her to the punch.
--
She really shouldn’t hold it against Quinn for trying. When they’re out in public, she links arms with the Latina (one time she tried to link pinkies because she knew that’s what she did with Brittany but Santana had pushed her away). She leaves kisses on her cheeks and Santana would be lying if she said it didn’t make her smile just a little bit (because Quinn always smiles when Santana does and it just reminds her so damn much of Brittany).
But then there are times when Santana just can’t help but get mad at the blonde. They’re too much a like, too bitchy for their own good, and Quinn talks so damn much (she’s starting to think that that’s the only thing from Berry that rubbed off on her). Brittany was always quiet and a little air headed where as Quinn’s on the honor roll and that means she talks with a purpose, something Santana can not handle on a day to day basis.
(Really, it’s the same way for Quinn. Santana doesn’t talk nearly as much as Quinn’s become accustomed to, she’s too tall, doesn’t smile enough, and there is no random bursting into song [which she misses more than she’d like to admit].)
This pretending though? It’s getting kind of exhausting.
They stare at one another from across the booth, Quinn just staring at her food while Santana half heartedly eats half her burger. “Do you want to watch a movie later? My treat.” Santana looks up and shrugs. “C’mon S. It’s Saturday night. I want to do something.”
“We live in Lima. The only thing to do on a Saturday night is drink, go to a movie, or get pregnant. You’ve already gotten pregnant; I don’t want to watch a movie, so I guess the only thing left to do is drink.”
Quinn glares from across the table. “You’re such a bitch.”
“What? It’s the truth. Just because Rachel would coddle you doesn’t mean I will.”
“You act like you didn’t do that for Brittany.” Santana arches an eyebrow. “Brittany was never as smart as us and you did everything within your power to make sure nobody called her on her shit. You always put things into the simplest terms instead of actually teaching her.”
“You don’t know Brittany like I do,” Santana growls and Quinn crosses her arms over her chest.
“Did. Like you did. I mean let’s face it. It’s been almost six months since you’ve talked to Brittany. You don’t really know her anymore.”
Santana clenches her fists. “Now I know why Rachel left you. It’s because you’re such a colossal bitch who needs to be put in her place.”
“Put into my place? I’m not someone you can overpower Santana. I’m not Brittany! And you don’t know anything about me and Rachel so leave her the fuck out of this!”
Santana opens her mouth, ready to yell that while she always saw Brittany as hers that didn’t mean she completely dominated her (if anything, it was Brittany who had Santana wrapped around her finger) and reach across the table to slap that look off of Quinn’s face. But then she follows Quinn’s gaze out the window and she shuts her mouth.
They watch silently as Rachel and Brittany walk side by side down the street, laughing (really laughing, not the fake laughs that come out of their mouths now). Santana sits back down in her seat as Quinn looks down at her hands in her lap. "We can stop pretending now, Quinn.” The blonde looks up and looks at her friend, confused. “We both know that you're wishing I was Rachel and I'm wishing you were Brittany."
She nods sadly and looks back out the window to see the girls disappearing as they turn the corner. “You’re right…” They stare at their half eaten food and Quinn sighs. “It worked for a little while though.” She half smiles and Santana can’t find it in herself not to return it.
“Yeah… for a little while.”
Author: only_becuase3
Main Characters/Pairings: Quinn/Santana (mentions of Quinn/Rachel, Santana/Brittany)
Rating: T?
Summary: Based on the prompt: Santana/Quinn "We can stop pretending now, Quinn. We both know that you're wishing I was Rachel and I'm wishing you were Brittany."
Author's Note: Blagh. I saw this prompt over on the glee_angst_meme and got all excited but I'm not sure I like how this turned out. I worte it in like, ten minutes so I apologize if this is horrible! Title from U2's 'Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own'. OH! Also, this is the first time I'm writing femslash. Like, techinically I've written it before but this is the first time there are no boys in the mix...
--
It’s easy when they’re having sex. Quinn can pretend that the tan skin intertwining with hers belongs to Rachel. She can pretend that the dark locks she threads her fingers through, pushing the other girl closer to her, belong to Rachel. And if she moans loud enough, she can block out the sounds Santana makes and she can keep on believing it’s Rachel that is still in her bed and not her friend since the sixth grade.
It’s a little bit easier for Santana. Quinn’s pale skin is the same as Brittany’s, her blonde hair not quite as blond but close enough. Quinn wears the same chapstick that Brittany does and so when they kiss, she tastes what she remembers Brittany tasting like (a mixture of strawberry and apple). Plus Quinn does this thing with her tongue that Brittany used to do (she’s not as good though).
So when they’re rolling around in bed, it’s easy. When it’s all over though, they lay there awkwardly next to one another, hair mused and chests heaving. Usually with Rachel, Quinn would cuddle. With Brittany, Santana would link their pinkies.
Quinn and Santana don’t touch each other. They lay on the edges of the bed until one of them suggests, “Burgers?” It surprises Santana more than it should when Quinn always beats her to the punch.
--
She really shouldn’t hold it against Quinn for trying. When they’re out in public, she links arms with the Latina (one time she tried to link pinkies because she knew that’s what she did with Brittany but Santana had pushed her away). She leaves kisses on her cheeks and Santana would be lying if she said it didn’t make her smile just a little bit (because Quinn always smiles when Santana does and it just reminds her so damn much of Brittany).
But then there are times when Santana just can’t help but get mad at the blonde. They’re too much a like, too bitchy for their own good, and Quinn talks so damn much (she’s starting to think that that’s the only thing from Berry that rubbed off on her). Brittany was always quiet and a little air headed where as Quinn’s on the honor roll and that means she talks with a purpose, something Santana can not handle on a day to day basis.
(Really, it’s the same way for Quinn. Santana doesn’t talk nearly as much as Quinn’s become accustomed to, she’s too tall, doesn’t smile enough, and there is no random bursting into song [which she misses more than she’d like to admit].)
This pretending though? It’s getting kind of exhausting.
They stare at one another from across the booth, Quinn just staring at her food while Santana half heartedly eats half her burger. “Do you want to watch a movie later? My treat.” Santana looks up and shrugs. “C’mon S. It’s Saturday night. I want to do something.”
“We live in Lima. The only thing to do on a Saturday night is drink, go to a movie, or get pregnant. You’ve already gotten pregnant; I don’t want to watch a movie, so I guess the only thing left to do is drink.”
Quinn glares from across the table. “You’re such a bitch.”
“What? It’s the truth. Just because Rachel would coddle you doesn’t mean I will.”
“You act like you didn’t do that for Brittany.” Santana arches an eyebrow. “Brittany was never as smart as us and you did everything within your power to make sure nobody called her on her shit. You always put things into the simplest terms instead of actually teaching her.”
“You don’t know Brittany like I do,” Santana growls and Quinn crosses her arms over her chest.
“Did. Like you did. I mean let’s face it. It’s been almost six months since you’ve talked to Brittany. You don’t really know her anymore.”
Santana clenches her fists. “Now I know why Rachel left you. It’s because you’re such a colossal bitch who needs to be put in her place.”
“Put into my place? I’m not someone you can overpower Santana. I’m not Brittany! And you don’t know anything about me and Rachel so leave her the fuck out of this!”
Santana opens her mouth, ready to yell that while she always saw Brittany as hers that didn’t mean she completely dominated her (if anything, it was Brittany who had Santana wrapped around her finger) and reach across the table to slap that look off of Quinn’s face. But then she follows Quinn’s gaze out the window and she shuts her mouth.
They watch silently as Rachel and Brittany walk side by side down the street, laughing (really laughing, not the fake laughs that come out of their mouths now). Santana sits back down in her seat as Quinn looks down at her hands in her lap. "We can stop pretending now, Quinn.” The blonde looks up and looks at her friend, confused. “We both know that you're wishing I was Rachel and I'm wishing you were Brittany."
She nods sadly and looks back out the window to see the girls disappearing as they turn the corner. “You’re right…” They stare at their half eaten food and Quinn sighs. “It worked for a little while though.” She half smiles and Santana can’t find it in herself not to return it.
“Yeah… for a little while.”