A/N: DD for an anon, who provided the first sentence. Thanks!


I haven't seen Quinn since our break up five years ago, and there she is sitting in the audience at Mercedes and Sam's wedding while I am standing up here in this dress. I can't believe it. Neither Trouty Mouth or Wheezy (as I insist on still calling them) informed me she'd be here, though I probably should have expected it. How could I have not expected her to be here? Every other member of our glee club is here.

Hands clenching around the bouquet of flowers I hold, forcing a smile to keep on my face as I watch Mercedes' father walk her down the aisle, I study Quinn surreptitiously, eyes darting away each time I worry she's going to be looking back at me. It is cowardly and totally not badass, but it's better than the alternative.

It has to be better. At least.

The ceremony is a blur, the happiness and tears on both Mercedes and Sam's faces totally not making my heart ache. My eyes stray towards Quinn more than is probably healthy, but that's what I get for bringing a date to the wedding that I'd only been seeing for a couple of weeks. I'd been determined not to be seen as pathetic that I'd asked the girl I'd been casually fucking to accompany me, promising her an open bar to get her to come. It didn't help that hands down, Quinn is a million times hotter than Rhonda could ever be.

It isn't fair.

Quinn is supposed to be rundown. Supposed to have reverted back to her Lucy persona. She isn't allowed to be as slim and as sexy as she had been at the height of our relationship, her face just as beautiful and sculpted as my hands had traced.

I can't stop my eyes from studying the people on either side of her, straining as I try to see if she is holding hands with that guy, that woman. Sure, they aren't as hot as I am, but seriously? How many people could match my degree of hotness? Not many. And even if Quinn is stunning, that doesn't mean she had been able to find someone who matched me.

At least, she wasn't supposed to have found someone as hot as me.

The "I dos" are over before I know it, the beaming couple sharing a kiss that would have honestly nauseated me if I hadn't been honestly happy for them. They'd had a rough path, but they fit. So for them to finally be legally shacking up – it doesn't make me seem pathetic to be tearing up myself, right? I'm still still a romantic, okay? So sue me.

As the new happily married couple runs down the aisle, disappearing into their waiting limousine, I lose sight of both Quinn and Rhonda. Too caught up in watching the limousine disappear around the corner, arms wrapped around Brittany as she hugs me back, I'm not prepared for a different tall blonde to bump into me as I turn back to make my way back into the church.

My heart drops.

"Santana," Quinn's eyes widen, falling to stare at the ground before wandering back to my gaze.

"...Hey," I manage, the flowers practically forgotten in my hands.

There is an uncomfortable silence, and then Quinn opens her mouth, jaw moving. "Hey, uhm," she starts, hand coming up to her left hip as she always had when she was nervous, "How are you?"

I dip my head, licking my lips. "I'm fine," I smile, bobbing my head, ignoring Puck who bumps into my shoulder, nodding at Quinn.

"Good." A real smile crosses Quinn's face, and I can't help but stare at her. "You're here with someone?"

"...Kind of," I answer vaguely, not really sure why I'm saying it. I mean – Rhonda.

Quinn tilts her head. "Kind of?"

I swallow. "It's not serious." Okay, why am I making that clear? "You?" I continue. Just... It's been five years. Why? Why do I care? I shouldn't care.

Quinn looks down. "No one," she smiles, meeting my eyes again. "It's been... Difficult."

"I hear you," I offer worldly, nodding, even if I'm completely shitting the truth. It hasn't been hard to find a willing body. But I won't let myself be ashamed. Just because she threw me away doesn't mean I have to stay celibate.

Taking a step back, Quinn studies me. "Really?" she asks, sounding knowledgeable and as if she knows, "That's hard to imagine."

"Why?" I frown, voice deepening, glaring at her. She's hit an area that I obviously don't appreciate. An area that we had contention when we - -

Were still together.

Quinn seems to realize this, as she takes another step back. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, eyes darkening, hands tensing on her hip, "It's not my business."

"You're damn right it isn't," I push, my face instantly going slack. No. I'm not bitter. I'm not. "Now if you excuse me." I turn, my face tight and hot, not wanting to look at her, "I have a shorty to find."

"Shorty," Quinn snorts.

"Yes," I stress, glaring at her, "You liked it when I called you that."

Quinn frowns at me. "No, that was something else entirely."

"Really?" I pause, looking back at her. I'm confused.

"Really." Her voice soft, Quinn smoothes down her dress. "San, do you really not remember?"

No. I remember.

"Sorry," I mutter, not looking at her.

She sighs. "Whatever."

I can hear her walking away. No, my heart pounds, no.

"Q," I gasp, spinning on the pad of my foot, catching her wrist. Taking in her shocked expression, the darkening of her hazel eyes, I give her a lopsided serious expression, "Are you happy?"

She studies my eyes. "Does it matter?" she asks, voice soft. When I can't answer, she shakes my hand from her wrist. "I thought not," she breathes, smiling sadly. "Take care, Santana."

"You too," I mutter, watching her walk away.

She'll... She'll be at the reception, right?

Right?