One Time Thing

They didn't talk until not talking cease to be an option. Not when it came to this.

Santana had to hand it to Quinn, when she didn't want to be found you wouldn't find her. Not if you were anyone who wasn't Santana Lopez, that's for sure. It was cute when they were kids but now Quinn being one step ahead of her frustrated Santana like nothing else ever had, which in turn only made her look for the blonde harder, Santana searching and searching for weeks nearly non-stop until finally she got lucky.

Honestly she'd walked into the bar for a little stress relief before she left this dump of a town when she saw her. Quinn Fabray, sitting in a bar with a half-finished cocktail which probably wasn't her first. Putting her game face on Santana casually strolled over and sat down next to her long-time friend. Quinn didn't look at her, but she didn't bail either so Santana chose to take it as a positive sign.

It was ironic, and cliché, but Santana had imagined her next meeting with Quinn a thousand times and although she could never quite come up with the right thing to say, anything would be better than what her actual first words to Quinn were in months, Santana inwardly and outwardly cringing even as the words escaped her mouth, "Drunk again Q? Ya better watch out, this is beginning to look like an intervention-worthy problem."

The inebriated blonde didn't respond which was definitely for the best, Santana could tell she was on thin ice just by being here, not that she was even considering giving up, "For what it's worth, I called you first. I... don't know if that means anything."

Still no response.

"I guess... there has always been two people in my life that meant more to me than anything else. Than anyone else. And, in the moment, I thought you'd need me more. But you didn't answer Q. You never answered. I was worried. We were all worried." Santana said softly, slowly extending a hand and trying to place it over Quinn's, but at the last second the blonde pulled hers away.

"Don't touch me!" Quinn snapped, although there wasn't a 10th of the old biting tone that there used to be.

Santana briefly glanced around looking at the other patrons who barely spared them a glance before going back to concentrating on their own beeswax, at which point she whisper yelled, "Look, I fucked up big time, I get that, but we've done way worse things to each other and we always found a way to move past it, and part of that was because we had to see each other pretty much every day, but I hope to God this time is no different because I miss you Quinn. I've missed you so fucking much."

Santana gave Quinn a chance to respond, but the other girl didn't even look at her. Not that Santana blamed her, fiery guilt burning in the brunette's chest. It hurt, but not as much as the next words would.

"But I'm not here about us. I'm... I'm here about Finn." Santana said, struggling to force the words out, "He's dead. No warning, no good reason, no nothing. He's just gone, and it fucking destroyed me in a way I could have never imagined. Not that I ever thought about it, it's just... I was falling apart this time last week, and part of that was because I imagined what you must have been feeling."

"You can't imagine how I feel." Quinn mumbled personally.

"So tell me." Santana offered, "Tell me exactly how you feel about him, and about me. Scream, shout, cry, do or say anything you fucking want, just let it out because I am not leaving you until you're ok."

There was another long pause, then Quinn looked at her, "What if I'm never ok?"

"Then I'll never leave." Santana said firmly, "I don't care if it's the last straw in this friendship or whatever this is between us, I'm going to be right here for you. Even if that means literally being your punching bag. And hey, that sounds like a pretty good idea to me, because trust me Q, there's no better therapy than a little physical violence. So go ahead Fabray, take a swing. Slap me good and hard right here, right now. Or we can go outside. I don't care, I just... I just want to make you feel better. Please... tell me how I can make this better?"

In the middle of her speech, once she got the bright idea to make Quinn slap her again, Santana stood up and started posturing. She even tapped her cheek in the pretty much universal sign of 'right here, hit me right here'. Then Quinn finally got up and positioned herself in front of Santana, leaving the Latina to tense up and get ready for the worst, her words trailing off although she very much meant them.

Then to her incredible surprise Quinn just said, "Grab your things. I have a room nearby."

Although Quinn didn't specifically say follow her Santana felt it was very much implied, which was a good thing. It was less good that despite her nearly constant prompting Quinn wouldn't say another word to her until they were inside perhaps the cheapest, most rundown motel room Santana had ever seen, which was really saying something given all the broke teen boys she had fucked before finding herself. Briefly Santana lingered on the memory of one specific boy, her heart-breaking for Quinn all over again. Then suddenly Quinn was pushing her back against the door and kissing her fiercely, and despite the nearly overwhelming desire to just go with it Santana forced herself to break the lip lock and gently push Quinn away from her while holding her tightly at arms length.

"No." Santana gasped when she broke the kiss.

"Please Santana?" Quinn wept, Santana taken aback by how quickly the girl could go from not crying at all to full on tears running down her cheeks in a matter of seconds, "I need... I need you to... I, I just can't... I can't deal with this. I can't deal with any of this right now, and, and... and I just need you to make me forget about it, just for a second. Please? You wanna help me? Fine, fuck me until I can't think, because I can't think about him, or you, or anything anymore. I just can't. It's too fucking much."

Santana would dearly love to forget their troubles to, the temptation never more enticing, however, "I can't... I won't. Things are too messed up, and I won't make the same mistakes I did last time. If I ever fuck you again it will be when both of us are stone cold sober, and both of us know what we both want."

There was another pause and then Quinn started violently swearing and weakly slapping Santana. Both hurt, but they didn't have the cutting edge/forced to them that Santana was used to, and they quickly dissolved into Quinn collapsing into her arms and crying her eyes out, which was where she stayed for the rest of the evening. The only change was Santana strategically moving them so that her back was lying on the headboard of the bed with Quinn sobbing in her arms, Santana crying too albeit much more silently, the two girls mourning the loss of their friend.

*

When Quinn finally awoke the next morning for a blissful moment she didn't know where she was or why she was here. Then realisation hit her like a freight train and she felt the urge to cry again. She probably would have if she wasn't so dehydrated from all the crying she had done last night, and every night since she got the call about Finn. The difference was this morning she wasn't alone, but in the arms of Santana, her friend giving her a small, forced smile when Quinn looked up to see if she was awake.

Quinn had dreamed of laying in these arms, and never, ever wanted to leave them, but she felt like she had too. So, despite most of her body protesting, Quinn lifted herself up and then collapsed so her back was against the headboard on the opposite side of the bed, the blonde simultaneously wishing the bed was both bigger and smaller so Santana would be further away from her/closer to her.

There was then a long silence, both girls obviously waiting for the other to say something with Quinn being the one to finally cave, "I never loved him. I thought I did at the time, but in retrospect I was only ever in love with the idea of him. He was everything I told myself I wanted. Big, strong and muscular. The quarterback to my head cheerleader. And best of all he wasn't that bright, so I could manipulate him with ease. But I cheated on him, with his best friend, and then after I got pregnant I convinced him the baby was his. But maybe worse than lying and cheating and manipulating was how I stood in his way. He was on this earth for such a short amount of time, and I made him waste so much of it with me even when it became perfectly clear Rachel was his soul-mate. How can I live with that?"

Santana bit her lip for a moment, and then said, "Well, it was hardly all your fault. The whole Rachel and him not always being together, I mean. I took his cherry long before I gave a damn about him, and... it feels wrong to say this now, but Rachel and even he got in the way of their happiness. Not that makes any of the stuff we did ok, but newsflash Q, we're not good people. Just look at everything we've done to each other."

"We're really not." Quinn let out a humourless laugh and then after a few moments of silence added, "You wanna know the worst thing? I wasn't ever in love with him, but I really did care about him as much as I've ever cared about anybody, and after everything we've been through all I can think about now is how his death affects me. What I did to him, how nice he was to me despite everything, how... how maybe now he's gone Rachel will finally notice me."

That last part was whispered so softly that Quinn was actually surprised when Santana turned her head to look directly at her for the first time in this conversation. Surprised, but oddly relieved, Quinn having problems keeping her voice in check as her body somehow found some leftover liquid to allow her to cry some more.

"There, happy? I said it. I want her. Finn is dead, and I keep thinking about how I might have a chance with the straightest girl I know. And how even if I did I wouldn't take it, because I couldn't stand knowing that I was a consolation prize. And a fucking leech. A vulture, hanging around and then swooping in at the end. And then there's you." Quinn sobbed, her words slowly turning bitter as she finally looked at Santana again, "You were only supposed to be a one time thing, and now the man I so desperately wanted to love is dead, and... and I keep thinking about your skanky ass! Who, by the way, everybody knows is just killing time until she gets back together with Brittnay, because in the end no matter what you say and what you do you will always choose Brittnay, just like Rachel will always choose Finn. Would. Would have always chose him, but now he's not an option, and I can't let myself be one. Not for her, or for you, because I won't be anyone's second choice. Not again."

There was another long silence, this one perhaps the longest of the morning, then Santana mumbled, "So... just to be clear, you're..."

"Gay? Oh God yes." Quinn laughed loud, high and humourless, "I am gay. There, you happy now? You were right about everything. I'm gay. I'm a lesbian, and not just a normal flannel wearing dyke, but a perverted slut who actually gets off on the worst things imaginable, because I fucking loved it Santana! I got off on every nasty little thing you said or did to me, and I don't know how to live with that. I don't know how to live with the fact that I'm a perverted, criminally self-centred lesbian who can't stop thinking about you and Rachel when I'm supposed to be morning 'the love of my life'. And honestly, I'm about five seconds away from finding some rich white guy to marry and give me another kid or five because I clearly don't deserve any type of happiness. Not with Rachel, or with you."

It took a long time for Santana to digest all of that, the Latina really making an effort to think through not just what she had heard but what she was about to say before she even opened her mouth, "Well, first off, I guarantee both of us will be thinking about Finn for the rest of our lives, and I think it's normal to think about what you could have done differently and how it all affects you. I know I do. Then again we're not the best of people, and we either need to be cool with that and not just pretend too or we should try and change. As for Rachel, she'd be lucky to have you. I can't tell you that you wouldn't be her second choice, because who knows exactly what goes on in that girl's head, but I'm pretty sure she's only slightly straighter than you are. Finally, don't you dare tell me what I want or what I'm inevitably going to choose because clearly you have no fucking idea."

"Don't I?" Quinn asked bitterly.

"No, clearly you don't." Santana said softly but firmly, "Is there something pulling me back to Brittnay? Yes, but for the first time in my life that feels truly over. And do you want to know why? It's because she is no longer the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about when I go to sleep. It's not her I think and talk about all the time, it's not her name I stare at on my phone debating whether to call her, and it's not her I want to be appearing out of nowhere or calling me up from out of the blue. It's you. You're the one I fucking want, ok?"

There was another pause, then Quinn looked away, "How can I believe you?"

"I don't know." Santana said truthfully, "I don't know how to make you believe me, but wouldn't it be better to take the chance on whatever this is? Try and drag each other out of all this fucking pain? Not that you have to date me for that, because like I said, I'm with you until you're feeling better, but... I rather do it with you as opposed to just... with you, you know?"

There was a long silence, the two long-time friend staring at each other for what felt like an eternity, then Quinn laughed, "Can you actually imagine us trying to be a couple? We wouldn't last a week."

"Maybe. Or maybe our similarities would keep us together instead of tearing us apart." Santana argued, "After all, hasn't that always been the case between us? Haven't we always gone from loving each other to fighting each other and back again with the only variations being how long the fight lasted?"

"Great, so we'd be one of 'those' couples." Quinn scoffed.

"If by one of 'those' couples you mean always passionate about each other then I'm sorry, I just don't get what would suck about that." Santana said, "Honestly Quinn, you challenge me every single time I see you and I love you for it, because it's fun and I know that even when we're literally strangling each other we love each other, and if that's wrong I don't want to be right. And I'm not. We're not. If this whole thing proved anything it's that we're both fucked up crazy bitches who'd rather wreck each other than actually discuss our issues, and it takes a fucking tragedy to actually get us to talk about how we really feel, so hey, maybe we really are perfect for each other!"

There was another long pause, and then Quinn let out a chuckle and then without looking at Santana she softly smiled and mumbled, "Well, I'll admit... at least it would never be boring."

"Right?" Santana laughed softly, Quinn briefly joining the light-hearted laughter before it quickly died down to start again. Then Santana slowly lifted herself up and positioned herself so she was on her hands and knees crouched over the other former cheerleader and staring directly into her eyes before she softly murmured, "Please Quinn, give me a chance. I swear you're the only one I want, and I swear I'll treat you better this time round."

"That's the thing San, I don't want you to treat me better." Quinn admitted bitterly, "I loved being humiliated and treated like a slut. What does that say about me?"

"That you're a bottom with maybe some masochistic tendencies." Santana offered calmly, "There's no shame in it babe, it's who you are."

"But it's not." Quinn argued, "I'm a Bitch Goddess, a proud HBIC, the baddest bitch around. How can I be a bottom?"

"How you act outside the bedroom doesn't make you one thing or another Q. Sometimes we're exactly the opposite of what we appear to be, and that's ok." Santana explained softly, "You just need to find a top who can give you what you need, and if you really want that I'd be more than happy to give it to you."

"So do it." Quinn practically begged, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around Santana, becoming increasingly tearful as she pleaded, "Fuck me! Fuck me like a whore. Please? I've tried drinking the pain away, and it barely makes a dent. But kissing you, being with you... submitting to you, it's the only thing which can make me feel better, if only for a little while. Please Santana, please fuck my pain away. Fuck me like a slut so I can forget about everything I'm going through. Please? Please, I want it, I want you, so bad."

Quinn tried to kiss her friend but Santana pulled back, then Santana made a snap decision based on the disappointed look on Quinn's face, "I will, ok? I'll fuck you. But this time, it's going to be gentle. I'm going to prove to you I can be gentle. Because I kind of think I have too. But don't worry Quinn, you can be a submissive little bottom without being abused. Here, let me show you."

With that Santana cupped Quinn's face in both of her hands and leaned forward while pulling the blonde gently to her, Quinn letting out a little whimper of gratitude as she finally got what she wanted, namely Santana's lips on her own. It was nowhere near as hard as she wanted it, which didn't bode well for this whole gentle thing which Santana seemed to have convinced herself she had to do, but Quinn wasn't about to complain. Not when this was easily good enough for now, and that her mouth was too busy to do anything other than kiss Santana back.

Santana had thought it would be tough not to shove her tongue down Quinn's throat the first chance she got, but under these extremely tragic circumstances that wasn't exactly what she was in the mood for. Back when the blonde had first kissed her in the bar last night she had actually pushed Quinn away, and Santana could have never imagined herself rejecting this girl even back when she was sexually confused. But it had happened, along with other unthinkable things which had brought her to this moment, gently kissing Quinn Fabray in one of the nastiest beds she'd ever been in, which was really saying something.

Regardless of how they got here Santana was oddly happy in that moment, or at least as close to it as she could get right now. Certainly happier than she had been in months as if Santana was honest with herself she had been pretty miserable ever since Quinn stormed out of her apartment/life, and while this didn't make up for it the conversation and the kiss felt like a good start. In fact it seemed to make a very good start, a few of Quinn's words ringing in Santana's ears as her friend, who up until recently had been swearing she was straight, moaned softly into her lips as she used them to caress the pair belonging to her former cheerleader captain.

Eventually Santana did add her tongue into the mix, but despite a few half-hearted efforts from Quinn the kiss remained soft and gentle, even as Santana briefly broke it to pull Quinn's shirt over her head. Quinn helped, and together they removed all the clothing they hadn't had the emotional energy to remove last night. Honestly they should probably shower or something, but Santana didn't mind the smell of sweat and alcohol. Hell, it was practically her fragrance. Besides, she was dead set on 'making love' to Quinn in a bed.

Normally when people started to throw around terms like 'making love' Santana would want to vomit, or at least pretend like she was going too, the Latina mocking the happy couple in question until they either shut up or went away. But the truth was she had fallen head over heels for Quinn Fabray and this was her chance to prove it, Santana slowly massaging Quinn's tongue with her own for several long minutes when they were finally naked before slowly kissing her way down Quinn's body.