Can't Take My Eyes Off You || Quinntana

Two

It was nearly 1 am when Santana heard the door to Quinn's fancy house creak open. Moments before, she had convinced herself that she was composed. The tears on her cheeks had dried, and she was finally breathing normally. But the second she saw her best friend step through the door, the emotions came flooding back.

She let out a pitiful sob and fell into Quinn, greeted by the sweet scent of vanilla and the tight hold of strong arms attempting to calm her trembling body.

The two of them stood like that for what seemed like forever. Santana, an emotional wreck, holding onto her best friend for dear life, and Quinn, hugging her best friend just as tightly, wanting nothing more than for her to feel whole again. They were a perfect picture.

Santana eventually regained some composure and stood up straight, letting out a shaky breath. It was unlike her to be so openly emotional. But with Quinn, she could let down her walls.

"Let's get you up to bed," Quinn said, studying her friend's puffy face. "And I'll get you a wipe for that mascara."

Santana blushed. She couldn't imagine how terrible she must have looked. She took Quinn's hand, and they walked upstairs to the guest room.

Santana attempted to relax in the perfectly-made bed as Quinn ran to grab makeup wipes from the bathroom. Upon her return, Santana went to clean her face, but her hands wouldn't stop trembling.

Quinn sat beside her on the bed and took the wipe from her shaking hands. Gingerly, she tucked Santana's hair behind her ear and cleaned the streaks of mascara from her friend's face. Santana wanted to protest, but in the moment, it felt right to have someone else taking care of her.

For the first time that day, she relaxed.

She would never admit it, but Santana wished that moment could have lasted longer. But all good things must come to an end, and soon, Quinn was bidding her goodnight, laying out some clothes for her to change into, and leaving her alone.

Santana observed the clothes she'd been given. An oversized Journey t-shirt and gym shorts. Classic Quinn. She always did love old white people music. As Santana pulled the shirt on over her head, she basked in Quinn's familiar scent and thought back to their first time singing Journey together.

It was sophomore year. Quinn had sung the female lead on Don't Stop Believing. Of course, the part was swiftly taken away from her by the devil herself, Rachel Berry, but before the troll stepped in, Quinn had really shone. Santana could still picture the look on her face as she belted out the chorus. It was the first time Santana had seen her friend so happy. No hot boy or prom crown made her glow the way singing did. Glee club was something special to them both.

Once dressed, Santana tried to sleep. She tossed and turned, flipping her pillow over to the cool side and kicking layers of blankets onto the floor. As hard as she tried, she just couldn't shut off her mind. The events of the day replayed in her head, stuck on a loop. The nerves. The look of betrayal on Brittany's face. The race to her car so nobody would see the tears.

An hour or two passed. She couldn't take it. Rising from the bed, she resolved to find somewhere more comfortable to sleep, which was a bit ridiculous, since the bed was ten times nicer than the one in her dorm.

She tiptoed down the hallway and gently opened Quinn's bedroom door. The blonde was out cold, clearly exhausted. Yet even asleep, she emanated beauty, her skin glowing in the moonlight. The bed sheets outlined her soft curves effortlessly. It was like looking at a renaissance painting. Each brush stroke was carefully calculated to evoke an indescribable feeling.

Santana realized she was staring and mentally scolded herself, embarrassed. Everyone knew Quinn was beautiful. Now was not the time to admire her. She needed to sleep.

Her gentle hands lifted the covers on the edge of the bed, and she slipped in. Instantly, a warm wave washed over her body, starting at her head and crashing down to her toes. She was safe.