Quinn woke when Santana started moving in her arms, feeling as if she needed a couple more hours of sleep. She checked the time. 5:00. She felt Santana's lips press against her skin, before movement told her that Santana had removed herself from the bed. It was way too early. Why was Santana getting up when she didn't have to be at work until 7:00? Why was she leaving so soon?

After Santana left the bed just felt so cold without her in it, and Quinn had no hope of falling back to sleep, so she got up, because otherwise she'd spend a few hours going over the events of the night before. Why was it that it always seemed that Quinn's mistakes came back at her in big ways? Drunk sex outside of marriage? Baby. Texting while driving? Wheelchair. Not having the courage to tell Santana that she loved her? Almost losing her. A dumb, dumb night in a bar? She didn't know the outcome of that, not yet.

She went into the kitchen to find breakfast kind of made for her and waiting on the counter. Kind of because there was dry oatmeal in a bowl, with the water measured out for it, and half a pat of butter resting on top of the dry oats. There was a banana curled around the bowl, and a note in the cup that said, "There'd be milk, too, if we had it." Quinn smiled. If Santana was joking in paper form it meant that she wasn't too mad, right? Or maybe she wasn't joking.

Quinn added the water to her oatmeal, and stuck it in the microwave. The apartment was far too quiet. She switched on the radio, and went seeking out one of Santana's entertainment magazines. She flipped past the article about Justin Bieber and Miley welcoming their second child, despite the fact that they were still separated and reportedly sleeping with other people, as well as the one on the latest blockbusters scheduled to be produced. She and Santana were supposed to go out on a date on Saturday. She wondered if Santana remembered. Were they still going to go out?

Quinn hated this whole being in limbo thing. If she had her way the both of them would have taken a sick day and spent the whole day talking. In her head anyway. If real Quinn actually had her way, the two of them wouldn't ever talk about this. They would pretend that nothing had happened, go on their date on Saturday, and continue planning the reception which was three and three quarter's weeks away. She had discovered that Santana actually had her own flower, the Santana hibiscus, and she had ordered them as a surprise for her wife.

Quinn almost started to dial Maribel's number, but she figured that calling her this early in the morning would be a sure trigger that there was something wrong. Mom was like her daughter in that regards; she missed nothing. It really wasn't fair that Santana got to know everything about her, and she remained a mystery to Quinn. Part of that was both of their faults. After that one argument close to graduation they had stopped talking about pretty much anything, really, except each other's anatomy's, so Quinn missed out on the past five years of Santana's life, not that Santana had offered up too much information when the two of them were in college, either.

She texted Mercedes to call her when she woke up, and lucked out because her phone was ringing a few minutes later. Quinn almost tripped over her feet in her haste to pick up the phone that she sat on the counter.

"Why do you sound out of breath? You and Santana weren't just…?"

"What? No! Santana left for work at some ungodly hour this morning. But you know that saying that angry sex is the best sex?"

"Yeah."

"Not exactly true. It felt like we went to war last night, and I'm completely covered in battle scars right now."

"Didn't need that visual, but thanks for sharing. Who did what now? Why were you guys having angry sex?"

Quinn looked guilty even though there was no one around to see it. "Because when Santana and I got into an argument about my dad coming to the wedding, I kind of walked out on her and almost danced my way into someone else's bed. Last night we ended up running into one of the women I almost went home with when Santana and I were out."

"I'm not really sure which part to address first. You make almost cheating sound so poetic, did you really say one as in there were more than one, and I think it's about time that you found another coping method for feeling down on yourself. I honestly don't think that your argument about your father had anything to do with a fight between you and Santana; I just think it's a convenient scapegoat because you're scared that Santana's going to disappear on you, and you think that if you walk out on her you don't have to worry about her walking out on you."

"Do you know Brittany kissed her?" Quinn questioned. "That day on the set. Like I have a picture of it on my phone. She kissed her, and she sent it to me, and you know how Santana feels about her!"

"I know how Santana felt about her, and I know how she feels about you. Quinn if you can't see that she is over the moon about you, then you really need to go back to wearing glasses, or up your prescription on your contacts. Santana only wants you. I'd might even go so far as to say that she's always only wanted you. And in case you forgot, Santana's the one who ended things with Brittany, not the other way around."

"Yeah, but what can I give her that could possibly make her stay?"

Mercedes huffed. "Okay, white girl, you know how much I hate having to build up your ego because it's clear that you're the shit, but you're my best best, so I will. Sometimes you can be funny, usually when you don't try, you're talented, you're smart, and you're gorgeous. Why wouldn't she want you?"

It was subtle, the order that Mercedes had listed her attributes, and Quinn was appreciative. She didn't like it when the first thing that people thought of her as was beautiful.

"Yeah, but she's flawlessly gorgeous, and I have to work at it"

"And my hair ain't naturally straight. And Julia Roberts dyes her hair that red color. And Lupita…okay who are we kidding, she's just perfect, and can you believe that she and Liam Hemsworth have been married for 4 years? Oh, sorry…what were we talking about? You and Santana. You guys are so perfect for each other that I'd be willing to bet that God made you for each other, so you got to get over these insecurities or you're going to mess up things between you. How'd Santana take it when you guys ran into the home wrecker?"

Quinn paused just remembering. "She like broke a bottle, with her bare hands, and went all 'I'll cut a bitch' at this girl, and I think she really would have done it, 'Cedes, if this red-headed chick hadn't flown out of nowhere and said something to Santana in some other language. Do you think she would have?"

Mercedes took a moment to think about it. "Nah, Santana's all bark and no bite. Well, nibble. She's all bark and a nibble. She's a softie…well she did kind of scare me over Xavier."

"What'd she do?"

"She got someone to…I'm not sure what they did, but when he woke up like 12 hours later, he was in Kalamazoo. And she gave him a bunch of tickets and towed his car, but Kalamazoo, Quinn. How the hell do you drag someone off to Kalamazoo and tattoo them without them knowing?"

"There was a tattoo involved, too?"

"Crazy, right! That its permanent."

"Gave him a roofie, maybe?"

"Maybe."

"You don't think she's honestly like, a spy do you? I seriously think that she might be, but real people aren't spies. That's like, for-,"

"Non-real people? Aren't spies like real people?"

"I mean, doctor's daughter's don't become spies. Spies are people who have no money, and no families, are at the end of their rope, and have nothing to lose."

"Girl, you watch too much TV!" Mercedes considered it though. "Well…she did seem to go missing a lot back in freshman and sophomore year, and neither she, nor Brittany, could offer any satisfactory explanation for where they were."

Quinn pursed her lips in thought. Mercedes seemed to be doing some thinking too. "Didn't you guys open joint accounts together? Why don't you just look?"

"It's not likely to say that Santana is a spy on a pay stub."

"No, but if you see B6-13 on the pay line, then you'll know she works for a secret, shadowy organization, which would be awesome because Keri Washington is my girl! I hate that that show went off of the air."

"It lasted six seasons. Eventually Fitz had to get out of the White House. Oh, Santana just texted me so I'll talk to you later?"

"Say sorry!" Mercedes said jokingly, right before she hung up. Quinn eagerly clicked over to her text, but was disappointed when all Santana's text said was 'Good Morning'. Her answering text was much longer only to be given a one word answering text in response. It did nothing to dispel her belief that her wife was pissed and not talking to her. She thought about calling, but she also didn't think she could handle it if Santana ignored the call. She actually teared up a little thinking about it, but then she mentally slapped herself because she was Quinn fucking Fabray (Lopez).

Quinn couldn't stop over thinking things, and she was grumpy from waking up so early, so when she got to her office at 9, she was in a semi-foul mood. She parked herself in front of her work station with a bit of a huff.

Connie peeked her head over the divider. "You look horrible."

Quinn grimaced. "Thanks, Connie."

"Bad day yesterday?"

"No yester day was fantastic; yester night was terrible."

"Want to talk about it?"

Quinn turned to her computer, opening her file. "I don't want to even acknowledge that it happened," Quinn informed her. She had expense reports waiting for her. Quinn pulled up dual screens on her computer, grinding her teeth. She'd rather do this the old fashioned way with a ruler and a pen so she could clearly see each item that she had to sift through, but management had had the brilliant idea that they could save hundreds of thousands of dollars a year, countrywide, by reducing printing, so this was the method they came up with. Technology was awesome. "You're not married, are you Connie?"

"Not since 2015."

This was news mostly because she knew little to nothing about Connie, her life, or even her last name. "What happened?"

"He was a dog," Connie said simply.

"Did he cheat?"

"God, when didn't he?"

Quinn's pen moved anxiously between her fingers. "If he had like, say, almost went home with someone, but didn't go home with someone, would you have still ended things between you?"

"How do you 'almost' go home with someone?"

"Like the other party backs out in the end."

"Isn't that the same as cheating? It's not like he didn't cheat, it's just that the opportunity disappeared."

"Yea, but should he be punished for possibly doing it? We don't send criminals to jail for crimes they almost committed."

"Depends on the crime and the criminal. There's attempted rape; attempted murder."

"But no such thing as attempted adultery."

Connie shrugged. "You know what I would think? If they made the attempt once, what's to stop them from making the attempt again? You keep throwing rocks at a barn, eventually you're going to hit it."

Quinn decided that Connie was full of it. She buried her head in her reports, and didn't say another word to the woman for the rest of the morning. Unfortunately, it meant that she was alone with her thoughts (and her wonderful, non-judgmental numbers) all morning. She had to stop herself from texting Santana more than a dozen times. She didn't want to be that girl. When her phone did go off, and it was Santana, she almost yelled from excitement, but caught herself before she did. "Hello," she questioned eagerly.

"Hey, Q." Quinn could already feel the bad news coming. "I'm going to be late coming home, tonight."

"How late?"

"Late, late. Maybe 10. I know you wanted to talk, and I'm sorry. We can still when I get home, but you don't have to wait up for me."

"Why're you going to be so late?"

"A friend of mine who's kind of homebound is going stir crazy, and I told her I'd come over to keep her company."

Quinn wanted to protest. She wanted to throw a wife fit. If last night hadn't happened, she might have, but it did.

"Do you want to meet me for lunch?" she questioned. She shuttered at the unmasked desperation in her voice.

"I'd love to, but I don't have time. I'll make dinner before I go over to her place, so you don't have to worry about bringing something home. I'll see you when I get home."

"Yeah, okay," Quinn finally said.

She hung up with Santana feeling absolutely terrible. Santana was upset with her. Not just upset, she was actively trying not to be around her. Santana had never come home that late before, and it felt even later because she had been anticipating, no matter how nervously, them talking when she got home from work. And now they weren't. She didn't want to be so in her head, she didn't want to worry because Santana had gone out of her way to make Quinn feel as if she didn't have anything to worry about with them, but still she did.

Quinn: Please tell me that you're free tonight, 'cause I could use a friend.

Mercedes: You don't even have to ask. Already there.

She texted Mercedes Santana's address, and briefly wondered why she was going over to Santana's if Santana wasn't even going to be there, but it was already a habit.

Although she had said that she'd make something, Quinn was still surprised when she let herself in and found that there was a plate waiting for her. She had also left a flower, a calla lily. Didn't Brittany once get Santana a shit ton of lilies?

She was reading the note when Mercedes knocked. "Is it always that easy to get in your building?" she questioned as she walked across the threshold. "I just told the guy I'd forgotten my key, and he let me through. No questions."

Quinn nodded. "Yep."

Mercedes eyes fell almost instantly to the space in between the TV screen and the bookshelf, where a purple dildo was suctioned to the wall. "Please tell me that that's an expression of modern art, and I am completely mistaken in thinking what it really is."

In her head she could clearly hear Santana say, Gianna's afraid of the dark, Quinn. How would you like to be in a dusty drawer all the time?

"Her name's Gianna," Quinn said dismissively.

"You seriously named it?"

Quinn wasn't well versed in dildo protocol. Was that a bad thing? Mercedes' eyes finally moved from the dildo to Quinn. "What's that?" Mercedes questioned, nodding at the sheet of paper in her hand. "Santana left it for me with dinner."

"She feedeth among the lilies," Mercedes said nonsensically.

"What?" Quinn wondered.

Mercedes shook her head. "It's a bible verse. What'd she cook? Can Santana cook? She doesn't really strike me as having impressive culinary skills."

Quinn laughed. "Most of her dishes that are really good are vegan, which makes me think that they're all Rachel's recipes, but she tries. I've got to give her credit for that. You want me to fix you a plate?"

"What is it?"

"Brussel sprouts and a carrot broccoli casserole."

"Where's the meat?"

Quinn laughed at the fact that she wasn't the only one that felt that way. "I'll cook some Salmon to go with it."

Mercedes joined Quinn in the kitchen while she cooked. She admired the lily. "Do you really think she's mad at you; I mean she got you a flower so she can't be to mad?"

"She's not here."

Mercedes picked the floor up, sniffed it, and then sat it back down in the vase. "After my parents used to argue, my dad would always bring my mom a single flower. One day I asked him why he did it, and he told me that even when he's angry at my mom, he always brings her a flower to let her know that he still loves her."

"What kind of flower?"

Mercedes shrugged. "A rose, I think. My mom used to cook dad's favorite meal when she was maddest at him," she added. "I think for the same reason. Where is she right now?"

"She said she was visiting some girl friend, somewhere."

"Are you okay with that?"

"Not really, but what can I say about that?"

"When's she say she's coming back?"

She slid the casserole and sprouts into the oven to warm.

"10. Maybe later. Is that weird that she'd going to be out that late with another girl?"

Mercedes scrunched up her face. "Don't know, but if you know she's going to be gone for a few hours you know what we should do? We should snoop!"

It sounded like bad advice the second Mercedes said it, but it was oh so appealing. Santana had nothing but secrets; it wasn't right that she was married to Santana and barely knew her. Well the new her. She knew high school Santana really well. "I can't spy on my wife."

"Sure you can," Mercedes stated. "It's your right."

It was just at that moment that she got a text message alert from Cambridge Savings letting her know that there had been a $1,000 withdrawal from their account earlier. It was like God was trying to tell her something. Still, she made another attempt to resist, "She'd notice. I'm telling you she's like a superhero. She can like seriously tell if someone's cheating just by looking at them."

Mercedes gave an abrupt chuckle. "You really fell for that one?"

"I'm serious, 'Cedes. Like she predicted a guy getting hit by a bicycle; she's like psychic."

Mercedes thought about it. "Just tell her you were looking for something, and don't try to put things back exactly the way you found them so it seems plausible. It's not like Santana hasn't looked through everyone's stuff at some point in our lives anyway."

It was a fair point. "You know she has a gun? She says it's hidden under the bed."

It was all that was needed for the two of them to go search for it. If Santana could presumably get to it and assemble it in 15 seconds, Quinn figured that it couldn't be that hidden, but apparently she was wrong. There was absolutely nothing underneath the bed, and in the end she actually had to take the mattress off the frame, to see how a hollow had been carved into it, underneath where Santana's head would rest. Santana had even stitched a cover back over the hole where the box was kept to keep it from being immediately obvious.

Mercedes stared at the spot where the gun was hidden. "Okay, maybe she is a spy."

The box had a complex slide lock on it, and although she didn't really want anything to do with the gun, she vaguely wondered if Santana would give her the code to the box if she asked her for it.

The timer on the stove went off. Quinn put the gun back where it belonged, fixed the cover, and quickly remade the bed, before messing it up, since it hadn't been remade after the last time they slept in it.

"Why doesn't Santana have a table?" Mercedes questioned when they were seated on the floor in front of the TV.

"Because she's Santana," Quinn said, which was answer enough.

Maybe five minutes of silence passed before Mercedes questioned, "Are you two going to ever, I don't know, move in together, instead of this apartment jumping that you keep doing?"

"We don't jump. Santana gets off of work early's Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday, so we sleep at her place, Wednesdays and Fridays were at mine, and we alternate on the weekends."

"I've heard of custody agreements that are simpler."

"I don't mind, and Santana's never brought up moving in together."

"Well, why don't you?"

Quinn shrugged. Something had caught Mercedes eye, so she missed the gesture. "Oh, no way!" she said excitedly. She crossed the room, over to the bookshelf in the alcove. "I can't believe Santana has Flossie and the Fox! Man, my nana used to read this to me when I was a kid! I didn't even know other people knew about this! This is like one of my favorite books!"

Mercedes fingered through some of the titles. Every now and then she would squeal when she touched on one that apparently had some significance to her. "Santana has a lot of Children's books," she noted. Quinn walked over to her side, reading over her shoulder. "Like a lot. Why do you think she has so many?"

Quinn shrugged. "I can't guess. Santana's the only child so she doesn't have any nieces or nephews, and I don't think she's close enough to any of her cousins to bring the kids over. Well, she's close to them, but none of them live close by." She joined Mercedes in flipping through the titles. Why on Earth did she have so many?

"Maybe she has a kid," Mercedes joked. The two of them laughed loudly. "Could you imagine Santana with a kid?"

Quinn smiled to herself. "I don't know, I think Santana'd make a good mom. She's really caring, and loving, and passionate."

Mercedes rested her head on her hand. "Aww…"

"Shut up," Quinn mumbled, still smiling. "But I mean it takes all of our energy not to kill each other, how could we have a kid?"

The talk made Quinn think about her own daughter. She got updates from Puck, but she otherwise hadn't seen the girl in years. Every year on Beth's birthday and at Christmas, she sent her a card. She would spend weeks thinking of what she wanted to write in the cards, but every time, without fail, all she would actually do is sign the card Love, Lucy Q. Last year she'd gotten a card back from Beth on her birthday. Yea, she really wasn't ready to have kids.

She and Mercedes cleaned up, and sat back in front of the TV. Mercedes streamed Brown Sugar. When they got to the part to the night before Taye Diggs wedding, where he's talking about getting married to his fiancé instead of Sanaa, Quinn actually starts shouting at the screen about Dre being Syd's true love and them being stupid for not seeing that, which Mercedes found hilarious. "Have you heard from Martin recently?"

Quinn hugged her pillow to her chest because it was just so obvious that Dre and Syd were made for each other, and they were too caught up in their friendship to realize it. "He's married, has a little girl, and I think one on the way."

"You know Dre and Sidney are kind of like you and Santana. Been friends forever so you ignored the feelings you had developing for each other, and then Martin comes swooping in, to try to win you away from her."

"Eight months," Quinn whispered. "We didn't talk for eight months."

Mercedes gave Quinn a kind look. "I know, I was there for it, and I think that you two should have both been slapped. If you had actually said yes to his proposal, I would have slapped you."

Quinn turned back to watching watched Dre stupidly get married to Reese. She wonders if Santana would have just stood by if she'd gotten married to Puck. To Martin. She could see herself almost literally pissing on whatever girl Santana would have married if she had ever taken that plunge. Their friendship definitely wouldn't have survived that because it would have ended up with a huge fight between the two of them, and them probably not talking ever again.

By the end of the movie, Mercedes was crying because she couldn't seem to find someone, and Quinn was crying because she couldn't seem to keep them. When the movie was off, Mercedes helped her clean up, and put things back, semi-neatly, and she left because Santana should be returning soon. Quinn thought it'd be a waste to stopper the bottle of wine she and Mercedes had been drinking from, so she decided to finish it while she sat on the couch waiting for Santana to come home. She kept rewinding to the part where Taye Diggs had Sanaa up against the bookshelf because she couldn't get enough of the kiss. We kissed like that.


It was close to 11 when Santana opened the door to their apartment to find Quinn sitting on the couch, television on, book in her lap, glass of wine in her hand, and her eyes red-rimmed as if she had spent the last several hours crying. Quinn jumped when Santana walked through the door, as if she'd been drifting off to sleep and the sound of the door opening woke her. They stared at each other for a few seconds, before recognition showed in Santana's eyes, and she covered the distance to move to Quinn's side. "Quinn," she said, her voice a gentle caress, "babe, I told you not to wait up."

Quinn sat up fully. "I didn't think you were coming home."

Santana took the remote and wine from her hands. She turned the TV off, and kneeled down in front of Quinn. She gently touched her cheek. "I'll always come home. Please tell me you haven't spent all afternoon crying."

Quinn sniffled. "No!" she wiped her eyes, in case there was any residual evidence.

"What's wrong?"

"You're my air," she said, semi-coherently. "I can't breathe without you, but you spent all day ignoring me! I'm sorry about that girl. You couldn't imagine how sorry. I don't want you to hate me,"

"Ssh," Santana hummed when she saw fresh tears roll down Quinn's face. She hugged her to her body. Quinn shook against her. "If I hated you, would I have made you dinner and brought you home a lily?" she questioned rhetorically. "I don't hate you, Quinn. I could never hate you. I'm just hurt, and sad, and embarrassed, and I don't want to project any of those feelings on you. That's all."

"I'm sorry I embarrassed you."

"You didn't," Santana gave a soft sigh. "I embarrassed me. I lost control. I should have just walked away, but I flew off at Jenna instead, and almost got kicked out of the bar like the 17 year old Santana who flew off at Berry when Finn lost us Nationals. I'm," Santana lowered her voice, almost pleading with Quinn to understand. "I'm not that girl anymore."

It was Quinn's turn to touch her cheek. "I don't think of you as that girl still, Santana."

Santana looked away. "You said you did."

"I was angry."

"But you still said it. I'm not proud of who I was then, and I'm not proud that I almost got into a bar fight. I'm not that. I was embarrassed because I didn't know how you would look at me, after."
"Honestly, I thought it was pretty bad ass," Quinn admitted. "I like knowing that you'll stand up for me."

Santana sucked in her breath and nearly pulled away. "I'm going to go to bed."

Quinn picked up immediately that she had somehow said something wrong. She held onto Santana's hand. "What?"

She attempted to pull away, but Quinn wouldn't let go, and Santana wouldn't break her grip to force her. "What'd I say wrong?" she questioned, confused as to the sudden change in Santana's persona.

Tears rolled silently down Santana's face. "I just really want to go to bed now. It's been a long day."

"San, tell me what's wrong. We can't keep walking away from each other! We have to figure out how to talk to each other!" Santana closed her eyes, and shook her head, trying to fight her emotions. She felt too weak, too vulnerable. After a silent minute passed, she opened her eyes, and looked into Quinn's, her brown eyes fathomless. "Why'd you say yes?" She could easily see how surprised Quinn was by the question. "Forget the orgasm induced 'yes' that you gave me, after, the next morning, and when we were at the park. You still said yes. Why?"

Quinn's hazel eyes flickered. She'd never really given it much thought. "What else was there for me to say?" she wondered, aloud. "You made sense. When you said that we were each other's longest relationship, and for the last four or so years, I did only attempt to date when I realized that you were the only one that I was with. I don't appear to be good at this relationship thing; I haven't seriously dated anyone in a really long time, and there has to be a reason for that, right? So, I guess I thought fuck it, why not? At least I know the sex will be good. At least I know that even if things weren't perfect, at least I won't be alone."

"So you settled for this because you didn't think anything better would come along?"

"Who 'settles' for Santana Lopez?" Quinn posed. "Why did you propose?"

Santana's answer was ready made. "Because if I had to think about all of the people in my life that I would want to spend the rest of it with, you're the only name that comes to mind."

"So what did I say that had you wanting to pull away?"

Santana forced herself to say the words. "You liked that I fought for you, and I like protecting you, but like I tried to tell you back in New York, I'm not strong. I need someone to protect me, too, and you didn't. You didn't stand up for me." Quinn flinched, but Santana didn't notice. "I had no defense because you gave me none against her, Jenna, and Jenna-," Santana fought against her swell of emotions. She forced herself to breath evenly.

"Do you remember when Finn found out that Rachel made out with Puck and he flew into a rage because of the history of Puck getting with 'Finn's girls'?"

As Quinn had once been one of 'Finn's girls' who cheated on him with Puck, yes she did remember that. Was Santana trying to remind Quinn that she had always thought of her as a cheater? "Yes."

"Finn would have been hurt if it had been anyone but he was more so because of who it was and their history. I am not exaggerating in the least when I say that I would have rather have found out that you almost slept with anyone else in the entire state. Actually you could sleep with everyone else in the entire state, and it wouldn't hurt me nearly as badly as it would if you slept with Jenna."

"Why?"

Santana shrugged her shoulders because there was only so much she could tell Quinn. "It's complicated. Just leave it at that we've known each other for some time, and she's not a nice person."

"What aren't you telling me?"

"A lot," Santana said openly.

Quinn considered. "What can you tell me that you're not telling me?"

Santana fidgeted uncomfortably. She was uncomfortable both at the answer, and because Quinn was learning how to navigate her. "She hurts people. She hurt me."

Quinn took in the expression on Santana's face, and a sense of foreboding flooded through her. "What do you mean?" Quinn questioned nervously.

Santana winced at the fear in Quinn's voice. "Not like…that."

"Like what? Did you two have sex?"

Santana disappeared for a moment, her eyes dilating as she contemplated that statement. She blinked. "I slept with her wife."

Quinn didn't know why she was surprised to find out that Jenna was married, but she was and Quinn focused on that rather than the fact that Santana had slept with her. She knew that they'd both slept with other people. "She's married?"

Santana bit down on her nail. "Was. In a manner of speaking. Not legally. They had kind of what you and I had going on, only Jenna was the only one who was allowed to date other people. I can only tell you the non-redacted version of the story, because it really is complicated, like really, really complicated." Santana paused, her eyes flickering back and forth, almost like she was reading something in her head. "Remember when I texted you about getting tested? It was because of Jenna's wife. I honest to God, had no idea that they knew each other, much less were dating, and it wasn't a lust thing. It was just one of those moments when you're just really fucking lonely, and it just happened."

"When?"

"After New York." For the two of them New York referred to only one thing: the one and only time the two of them had tried, unsuccessfully, to have a conversation about their relationship. "Jenna found out, so suddenly I'm in her sights. She…," pause, "I had a bad night in a bar, and I went to confront Jenna about it, and she and five other people ended up beat…we got into a fight. I lost. We came to an…understanding; I stay out of her way."

Quinn winced mentally at the thought of Santana getting jumped because that's what it sounded like despite what Santana was actually saying. Despite her bluster, in high school, Santana really wasn't a fighter. Lauren had pretty much been the only one to challenge Santana, and she'd flattened her. But that was high school. The Santana from the bar last night, certainly seemed capable of fighting and fighting well. She could easily take on Jenna, but her and five other people?

"Can't you like do something about her. Mercedes and I were kind of under the impression that you 'knew' people. You made a guy disappear for a day just by making a phone call."

"Mercedes wasn't supposed to tell you about that."

"Well, she did."

"If I could make Jenna disappear by making a call, I would. Unfortunately I can't. I might know people, but she knows bigger people. It would have been very, very bad if I had gotten in that fight with Jenna." She reconsidered. "Unless I actually killed her." Quinn shuddered, because that wasn't a word that had any place in her world.

"Jenna is pretty much the only person in this world that I pretty much hate with a passion, and the idea of her touching you in anyway, but especially that way. And then what she said: you remembered me enough to tell her you were married, but not enough to stop you from going off and almost going home with her, and not enough to come home…it hurt. Because what Jenna said is true: you'd have to be desperate to marry me."

"How can you even think that?"

"I made a mistake."

"I know, but I've never been anyone's first choice, Quinn. Not even Brittany's. I wasn't the girl that anyone wanted to make into a girlfriend, I was just the girl that everyone wanted to fuck; a notch in a belt loop. I know that 'us' came out of left field, and that it's not love or anything, but…just once, I want to be the one that someone chooses."

Quinn's back straightened. "I'm sorry," she responded. "I didn't know."

Santana just kind of set her shoulders. "I know," Santana allowed. "I know that you weren't trying to hurt me. I know you didn't know about Jenna, and I'm not mad, I'm really not. It just hurts, and I need a little space so that I don't hurt you, because I'm hurting."

Santana could see Quinn struggling with emotions. She blinked, before she jumped up, suddenly. "Did you eat? I could fix you a plate."

"I did," Santana assured her. "I ate at Hazel's."

"Hazel?"

"The friend I visited," Santana explained.

"What'd you eat?"

"Macaroni and Cheese, and sausages."

Quinn squinted at the unusual combination. "She must have a kid."

Santana met those words with a small smile. "She does. A really great kid. His name is Phillip. He's four, almost five."

"It doesn't sound very healthy."

"It wasn't," Santana agreed. "But it was late, for him, it's quick to cook, it's something that he knows how to make, and he likes it when I cook with him."

Quinn squinted because the way Santana talked she sounded like the two of them were familiar. "Is this someone that you spend a lot of time with?"

Santana nodded. "Yes, well not so much since we got married, because they live out in Framington so I don't get to go over as often as I'd like, but I'm going to change that. You can meet him if you want to. I told Hazel I'd baby sit this Sunday, and we're going to spend the day together. Me and Phil, obviously, not Hazel. She has to work."

Quinn bit down on her lip at the thought of baby-sitting with Santana, though Hazel gave her a prickly feeling. "Umm…so what relation is he to you?"

"He's my godson," Santana said proudly.

"You have a godson?"

She nodded. "Yep."

"How did I not know that you had a godson?"

Santana actually gave a chuckle. "Well…you and I weren't exactly trading tales of our daily lives, back when we were just screwing around, and we got married two weeks after I proposed. I'm sure there's a lot of things that we've missed out on each other's lives, but I want that to change. I want us, Quinn."

Quinn sat back down, not taking her eyes off of Santana. "I want us, too, San, and I really need you to understand that you were never my first choice, because you were always my only choice. No one else ever came anywhere close."