Glee 1. Chapter 1

**Author's notes:**

**1. I got a prompt and I decided to have fun with it. That's all this is. Two or three more parts to follow.**

**2. If someone thinks I jumped ship and they will attack me for it, I will seriously smack them. Because if someone knows me and reads my stories, they will know I have only one true ship (and this is just fun...). **

**3. All I know about medicine is from Grey's Anatomy, so bear with me please when it comes to medical stuff.**

**Please read and review if you like it! Enjoy! **

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><p><strong>Part 1<strong>

"This might be the slowest morning ever," Quinn says, after taking a sip of her coffee. "And I mean, _ever_."

She is hanging out at the nurse's station in the almost empty emergency department of Lima Memorial Hospital and wishes she was having a coffee in her bed with a book to read. But no, she is in charge of the ER on this fine Saturday morning and she is bored out of her mind. She only had to deal with a few minors today, delegating some poor interns to practice making perfect stitches.

The only entertainment at hand is Lauren, the nurse who seems to be sporting a massive hangover, much to Quinn's amusement.

Lauren huffs behind the counter, gently massaging her temple. "Don't jinx it, Fabray. I'm not prepared to handle a freaking mass accident today."

Quinn smirks at her, gently tapping her fingers on her charts. "A wild night at Joe's you had, Zizes?"

"You have no idea," Lauren groans. "Puckerman convinced me to have a shot, and then..."

"No reason to elaborate," Quinn says with a dry laugh. She vividly remembers how those nights usually ended with Noah Puckerman, when he told her to have just _one_ shot with him at Joe's famous bar. She doesn't do that anymore. And she also stopped having sex with him after she became an attending.

As head of the Orthopedic department, she now has moral standards to keep up with, or whatever. He is just a pig anyway.

She sips from her coffee, and just about to go buy a muffin in the cafeteria, when she hears an ambulance car stopping at the entrance.

"Damn, I want to punch him," Lauren breathes under her nose as Noah jumps out of the ambulance. "Now he managed to ruin my night, _and_ my freaking morning."

"Suck it up, Lauren," Quinn sighs and drops her empty paper cup to the trash. She smooths down the front of her white robes and starts off to check on the new patient Noah and Dave Karofsky are taking out of the car.

When it's a young woman with tiny cuts all over her beautiful smooth skin and several tree leaves in her dark hair, Quinn has a feeling this day will turn a whole lot more interesting.

/

"Hot, ain't she?" Puckerman wiggles his eyebrows, as he rolls the woman inside with Karofsky on his heels.

"Ugh, shut up Puckerman, and take her to ER 3!" Quinn scolds him and turns to Dave. "So what do we know, Dave?"

"We had a false alarm at the Hudson's, you know that freakishly tall guy called us because he burnt his fingers while making grilled cheese for breakfast...anyway, we were driving around when we noticed her lying under the bushes on Baker Street. She refused to be taken care of, and got hysteric when we told her she needs to get taken to the hospital."

"She got hysteric?" Quinn raises her eyebrows and casts her gaze at the girl in the room, who is currently not moving.

"She started yelling in Spanish and tried to kick us away," Dave shrugs his shoulders cluelessly. "She wouldn't stop, so we had to give her sedation."

"What did you give her?"

"Three milligram of Midazolam intramuscularly."

"And when?"

"About half an hour ago."

Quinn nods and takes a mental note that the woman will be waking up soon from sedation, as Puckerman joins them. "So, did she tell you anything about how she got injured?"

"She claimed to have fallen from a tree."

"Hmm, interesting," Quinn says. "All right guys, see you later."

"Good luck with her," Noah calls after her and roars with laughter, as she shuts the door closed.

"Vitals are good," Lauren says as Quinn steps closer to take a look at the woman. She already has an IV infusion connected to her right elbow. The few cuts on her face, arms and legs doesn't seem deep, but she has several bruises.

"Thank you, Lauren," Quinn says. "Page Rachel for me, please and see if the patient has an emergency contact."

Lauren nods, then quickly exits the room, leaving Quinn by herself to follow a range of examinations.

The woman lays motionless with her eyes closed, and Quinn can't help but admire her beauty as her gaze trails down the woman's body. She is wearing an incredibly tight black dress, and Quinn feels embarassed to stare at her chest longer than necessary. It's _so_ inappropriate and not something Quinn Fabray, head of Orthopedic surgery should be doing with a patient. She shakes her head at herself, and identifies the woman's injuries.

Just as she is finished, Lauren comes back and tells her she called the woman's emergency contact and they said they'll come immediately.

Quinn is happy about that. She doesn't like the idea of anyone being at hospital alone, without no one caring enough to visit.

"Her left wrist seems severely fractured, and her right ankle is so swollen, it must be sprained," she says after taking a closer look, as Lauren scribbles notes down on the woman's chart beside the bed. "Get her to X-Ray, then take her up to my department, please!"

"Done, and done," Lauren sighs, pushing the charts to Quinn to grab ahold of the hospital bed, when they hear a groan.

Quinn shoots her eyes to the woman's face. Her eyebrows are squeezed together, and Quinn knows the medicine must be wearing off.

"Please don't let me die..." the woman whispers dramatically, before opening her eyes narrowly. "Am I dead? Are you an angel?"

Quinn blushes slightly, and shoots a glare at Lauren who barely manages to hold back a snort. Quinn clears her throat in embarrassment, before leaning closer to the woman.

"No, you are not dead, uhm..." she looks up at Lauren for help.

"Santana," Lauren nods. "Santana Lopez."

"You are not dead, Santana," Quinn smiles softly at the woman who opens her eyes wider, confusion written on her features. "And I am certainly not an angel- "

"Hold up, Blondie," the woman cuts her off, and groans as she tries to sit up on the bed. "If I'm not dead, then where the hell I am?"

Quinn gently pushes down on Santana's shoulder and gulps nervously, catching Lauren's eyes before she says "You are in hospital, Santana and I am your doctor. My name is Quinn Fabray and I am here to take care of you."

Santana closes her eyes and mutters lowly under her breath in a foreign language which Quinn identifies as Spanish. "I told those fuckers I don't need taking care of."

Quinn controls her urge to roll her eyes. She is lucky not to obtain a short temper, because this woman seems like a hard case already. "Look, Santana, it seems like you've got your wrist broken and your right ankle is sprained. So I think I'm qualified enough to say that you _do_ need taking care of."

"Which hospital?" Santana looks up at her, and the way she bites down on her bottom lip nervously puts a temporary blockage on Quinn's brain. She quickly recovers and stares into the woman's big brown eyes.

"I can assure you, Santana, you are in the best hospital in town," Quinn says with a hint of pride in her voice. "This is Lima Memorial."

"Damn it," Santana groans painfully and drops her head on the pillow. "I can't believe this is happening. From all the hospitals in this shitty town, you had to bring me _here, _God damn it_. _I wanna go home!"

Quinn looks at Lauren, who just shrugs her shoulders. "Thanks for the help," Quinn whispers to her angrily, before letting out a sigh.

"Santana, you have no reason to worry. We will get you checked out and fix you up in no time, okay? Then you can go home."

Santana gives her a devilish stare, her eyes glazed with fury. "You don't get to tell me what I can and can't do, understand Baby Spice? If I wants to go home, I will go home and you can't stop me. Unless you want me to cut you."

The woman is rude and stubborn, and everything Quinn hates in a patient, but she still manages to be incredibly sexy. It doesn't make it easier to say the right words. She gets an idea though, and decides to go with it.

"Look, I promise to let you leave if you can move your right hand without as much as a hiss. Deal?"

Santana nods with determination, but obviously hesitates when it comes to actually moving her hand. Quinn is waiting on edge, knowing that Santana will feel pain if she makes even the tiniest movement and she is about to voice her worry, when Santana moves her fingers and groans in pain.

"Ugh, fucking hell!" She squeezes her eyes shut, and breathes out heavily from the shock of pain. She turns her head away from Quinn, who instantly feels pity for her. She wants nothing but to touch her puffy cheeks, and whisper comfortingly to the beautiful woman. Her stomach flutters from the idea, and she feels like an idiot for it. She has no idea what the hell is happening to her. All she knows is that it needs to stop, if she wants to do her job.

"I think we're ready to go now, aren't we?" Lauren asks Santana, who refuses to look at them or say a word.

"Santana," Quinn says, but the woman closes her off completely. For some reason, she desperately hopes that Santana doesn't hate her now. "Lauren will take you to get an X-Ray, so I can take a better look at your injuries. Then you get to rest until I decide on your treatment. Is that all right with you?"

Santana doesn't answer, just gives her the tiniest nod. "Okay, see you later then," Quinn says with a sigh as Lauren pushes Santana's bed out of the room to catch an elevator.

It leaves Quinn alone with her thoughts dwelling on this mysterious woman who managed to stir her lazy Saturday morning up like a tornado. The only distraction is her resident storming into the room, her hair following her like a wild bush.

"Doctor Fabray, you paged me?" The small brunette asks, clutching her stomach and breathing heavily.

"Where the hell were you, Berry?" Quinn asks her with narrowed eyes, and her mouth turns into a smirk. "I had three trauma patients and I had to get Anderson to help me, because _you_ weren't here. I sent him to scrub in for surgery."

Rachel's eyes pop out dramatically. "Blaine gets to do surgery?" she asks in a hollow voice, and it's tempting to tease her further, but Quinn manages to stop.

"No, Rachel, of course he doesn't," she huffs. Handing out life lessons to these kids every day like it was candy can be super exhausting sometimes. "In fact, I didn't even have three trauma patients, just a woman with fractured wrist and sprained ankle...but that's not the point. I _could_ have, and you wouldn't have been here."

"Excuse me for saying this, Doctor Fabray," Rachel breathes out heavily through her nostrils. "But that was really mean."

"Life's hard, Rachel, get over it," Quinn says, grabbing Santana Lopez's chart and tossing them to Rachel. "Anyway, she is currently getting an X-Ray, then-"

"Wait," Rachel whispers as she stares at the paper in front of her eyes and her mouth opens in shock. "Your patient is Santana Lopez?"

"Yes, she is," Quinn frowns at Rachel's worried expression. "Why, do you know her?"

"She is my best friend."

/

"You must be fucking kidding me..." Quinn whispers, as she closes the door to the dark on-call room. She just really needs a break.

She hops down on the bed in the room and buries her face into the pillow. She exhales slowly, and feels her muscles relaxing. Now she really wishes Noah Puckerman was here, because she needs to destress and get back to her A-game.

(The problem is, having sex with Noah kind of disgusts her right now, and all she can think about is smooth bronze skin, and big brown eyes and luscious lips and breasts squeezed together in that tight black dress..)

_Stop it, Fabray!_

This is so not her.

She is damn professional with her patients, and she's never crossed any boundaries with them. But now here is this woman, and she can't stop thinking about her for all the wrong reasons. If it wasn't bad enough itself that she _might_ be crushing on a patient, said patient turns out to be Rachel Berry's best friend. She feels like the whole universe decided to turn against her.

"Ugh, you need to stop, Fabray," she groans at herself. She is not a freaking Lima loser. "You will go and take care of your _patient_, because that's your job. Focus on the job, for heaven's sake!"

/

"There's no surprise here," she gives the X-Ray scans to Kurt at the nurse's station. "She doesn't need surgery."

"Very well," Kurt nods and updates Santana's chart on the computer, his fingers tapping lightly on the keyboard. "No overnight stay then."

"She will be happy to hear that," Quinn sighs, turning around to take a look at the woman inside the closest room.

Santana has her head turned towards the window, and Quinn doesn't know how to feel about her very limited time with the woman, who somehow managed to grow on her in their short encounter. She is wearing pink hospital robes now and has numerous bandages all over her body for the cuts.

"And are you?" Kurt asks in a flat voice, but it still makes Quinn jump. She turns her head to him in bewilderment.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You seem interested in her...that's all," Kurt says without looking at him and Quinn is incredibly grateful for that, because she is sure her eyes would betray her feelings.

"I'm only interested in her, because she is my patient."

"Whatever you say, Quinn," Kurt looks up at her with a knowing smile. "But I'm not one for judging, you know that."

"You and Blaine? That's different, Kurt," Quinn whispers to him angrily, though she is mostly angry at herself. "She is my _patient_ and you can't have feelings for patients, that's the ultimate rule you can't break."

"Fine, then pull yourself together and stop staring at her like she's a puppy you want to take home."

Quinn glares at him, but she can't really cover up the blush that creeps up on her neck. Her face feels warm and she shakes her head. "I don't know what's wrong with me. She is my patient...and my resident's best friend. Could it be even more complicated?"

Before Kurt can answer her question, a blonde woman and a guy with enormous lips come to a stand at the station.

"Excuse me, Miss," the blonde woman says nervously. "I've got a call from the hospital that uhm, my _friend_ is here."

"What is your friend's name?" Kurt asks with a smile that instantly sets the blonde at ease.

"Her name is Santana Lopez," the woman says with teary blue eyes and Quinn shoots a glance to Santana inside the room. She has a weird feeling about the blonde and wonders why, but she can't put a finger on it.

"Ah, I see," Kurt nods. "She has a broken wrist, and a sprained ankle, nothing major luckily. Doctor Fabray here will fix her up in no time, she is the best."

Quinn shoots a narrowed smile at the woman. "Hi, I'm Doctor Fabray. And you are?"

"I'm Brittany," the woman says with a smile, and steps closer to shake Quinn's hand. "I'm Santana's girlfriend, I mean _ex_-girlfriend, sorry," she says with an embarrassed laugh, shooting a worried look at the guy beside him.

He is red like a paprika.

"Ex-girlfriend, then?" Quinn asks with a tight little smile, while her stomach churns at the thought.

"Yeah," Brittany nods. "Do you know what happened to her, Doctor Fabray?"

"Not really," Quinn replies and feels like it's really time to find out how Santana got injured. "All I know is your friend was picked up by two paramedics from the pavement on Baker Street and she claimed to have fallen from a tree. She tried to refuse care, so she was mildly sedated and brought here, but we had no time yet to discuss the circumstances of her accident."

"Wait, you said Baker street?" The guy with the fish lips asks dumbly.

"Yes, correct."

"That's where I live," Brittany frowns. "I don't understand..."

"Well, I can give you no answers," Quinn says, incredibly curious now as to what happened to Santana. "But you can go see her, if you want."

"Yeah," Brittany says, before she turns to the guy beside her. "Do you mind staying here, while I go see her?"

The question seems to upset the guy, until Brittany takes his hand and squeezes it. It somehow makes Quinn feel grossed out, because they are like twins acting like a couple. She pushes the thought out of her mind, and leads the way to Santana's room with Brittany following her - all the while thinking to herself that this just got a whole lot more complicated.

/

Santana doesn't react in any way when Quinn and Brittany enter the room.

She is laying on her back, head turned towards the window and eyes closed. If Quinn wasn't a doctor, she might think Santana does a very good job at pretending to sleep. But the way her chest rises and falls rapidly indicates that she is very much awake.

"Santana," Brittany says quietly, lingering at the door.

No answer comes from Santana, and it makes Quinn really wonder what's the deal with these two.

"San," Brittany tries again, taking a step closer to Santana's bed. "It's me, Britt."

Still no answer.

Quinn shoots a small smile to Brittany, and walks to the other side of the bed to look at Santana's face. When the woman opens her eyes narrowly, and begs her with a subtle shake of her head, Quinn feels lighter and heavier at the same time.

She clears her throat gently. "Brittany, I think we should leave your friend to rest. You can come back a bit later, okay?"

Brittany's face falls, but she nods and quickly exits the room.

"Thanks," Santana whispers as she opens her eyes properly.

Quinn sighs. "How are you feeling?"

"Crap," Santana groans and Quinn is not sure she means the answer physically.

"What can I do for you?" Quinn asks, and laughs nervously when she realizes how weird that just sounded. "I mean, apart from fixing your injured body parts."

"Don't have to be so smug, Sunshine," Santana teases her. "You can be happy I let you touch this." She points at her own body with her chin and quirks an eyebrow at Quinn.

"Jesus, who says that?" Quinn rolls her eyes, but she blushes anyway. She can't seem to control herself in this woman's presence. "Anyway, care to tell me what happened to _this_, then? I mean, before you were found in the bushes on Baker Street…"

Her question doesn't sit well with Santana, whose face hardens and she catches her eyes away from Quinn. Their moment is over, and Quinn wants to smack herself for ruining it.

"That's none of your business," Santana says, turning away. "You just gotta fix me up, isn't that your job, Doctor?"

She bites with her tone, and it makes Quinn more upset than she is prepared for.

"It is," she says quietly and steps away from Santana. "And I will _just_ do that. Your scans show that there's a fracture in your left forearm, which I have to reset first and then we will put your arm in a splint until the swelling goes down. That usually takes a week before you can come back and get your cast, which you will have to wear for six weeks or longer if necessary. Do you have any questions?"

Santana shakes her head but she seems a bit lost. The urge to comfort her is there again, but Quinn manages to resist it. If Santana wants her to act professional and just be her doctor, then she will be.

"All right," she nods to herself. "Kurt will come get you a bit later, so I can reset your dislocated bones and we will do another X-Ray to see if it's all put back properly in place. I suggest you have some rest until then."

Santana nods, and her face screws up a bit as a tear rolls down her cheek. "Can you go now, please?"

"Yeah," Quinn says sadly. "See you in a bit, Santana."

/

"Kurt?" Quinn comes to a stop at the nurse's station and shoots a deathly smile to Kurt. "You were supposed to get Santana to room 407 fifteen minutes ago. I got tired of waiting, so care to tell me what on Earth could possibly be more important than my patient?"

Kurt just shakes his head, and motions towards Santana's room. Quinn follows his gaze and notices Rachel talking to Santana animatedly.

"Oh, what's going on?" Quinn frowns.

"Have no idea," Kurt shrugs. "Rachel came back from surgery just in time to check on her, before I was to take her away and they are arguing ever since."

"You should've stopped her then."

"Good luck with that!" Kurt says with a quirk of his eyebrow and looks at her expectantly.

"Fine, I will do it myself," Quinn mutters to herself, before starting off towards the war zone.

She comes to a halt at the door and listens. Neither of them seem to notice her, and she is secretly happy for that, because now she has the chance to find out some more about Santana.

"You promised not to do that anymore, Santana," Rachel says to the other woman exasperatedly. "It's been two months for heaven's sake."

"I didn't do anything," Santana rolls her eyes. "I told you already…I just happened to be there, okay?"

"That's a lie," Rachel says in shock. "Don't you dare lie to me again!"

"Fine, Berry," Santana shoots her a wicked smile. "I won't talk to you then."

"There's no point pretending, Santana, it's quite clear what you were up to on Baker Street."

"What were she up to?"

Quinn jumps from the voice behind her back, and turns around to see Brittany's confused face. She turns back to Rachel and Santana, who both look shocked to see Brittany. The woman passes Quinn at the door, speaking directly to Santana now.

"What were you up to, San?"

"You don't get to call me that anymore," Santana bites and her tone makes Quinn's skin cripple, even though her words are not directed at her.

"Brittany," Rachel clears her throat pointedly. "What exactly are you doing here?"

"I was called here," Brittany says in a hurt voice. "I'm her emergency contact."

"She's still your emergency contact?" Rachel stares at Santana disbelievingly.

"Old habits die hard…" Santana shrugs, and shoots her gaze at the floor. She seems even more tired than the last time Quinn saw her.

"What were you doing on Baker street, Santana?" Brittany asks again, this time in a more demanding tone and it obviously makes Santana very uncomfortable.

"That's none of your business what I'm doing or not doing, and where I'm doing it or not doing it, since you broke up with me for Lipsy McChapStick!"

Quinn bursts into giggles unintentionally, and she is heavily embarrassed when everybody stares at her. "Sorry," she mutters with a blush and catches Santana's eyes.

She can't be sure, but she might have noticed a tiny smile gracing Santana's lips as she stared back at Quinn. She swallows hard to collect herself.

"Brittany, I am sorry, but as Santana's doctor, I have to ask you to leave now," she tells Brittany softly. "It is in her best interest."

"Yeah, okay," Brittany replies sadly. "We will leave then."

"We?"

The question hangs in the air, and Brittany seem to realize her mistake.

"I, no, I mean-"

"Of course you brought _him_ here…" Santana mumbles to herself bitterly. "God, how can I be so stupid?"

"Brittany, leave, now!" Rachel says pointedly, and Brittany reluctantly exits the room, holding back her tears.

None of them talk for a minute, and Quinn tries to avoid staring at Santana. The situation gets incredibly awkward after a while, and she is very glad when Kurt appears at her side.

"So, are we ready to put that wrist back in place?"

/

Santana needs a heavy dose of painkillers after Quinn fixes her forearm.

As it turns out Santana has quite a low tolerance level of pain, which Quinn finds amusing. She doesn't dare to say anything about _that _or about anything else really, a few hours later when she finishes the rounds on her other patients and checks on Santana.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, as she enters her room.

Santana sighs, staring at the blue splint she's just got put on her forearm by Rachel. "Better, I guess."

"Painkillers usually help," Quinn smiles at her and Santana nods. "Now it's just a bit of paperwork, then you can go home for now."

Somehow, she feels like she is not the only one who is not too happy to hear that.

She catches Santana's gaze and the look in her deep brown eyes is overwhelming. She gets completely flustered by it.

"I expected a more positive reaction to be honest," she laughs a little, but it dies down quickly under Santana's intense stare.

"So…I'm sorry about before, when I was rude to you," Santana says. "You saved my ass twice today."

"You're welcome," Quinn smiles at her. "Seemed like you have quite a situation going on…and I don't mean your medical situation."

"I guess so," Santana sighs, then slowly her lips turn into a sad smile. "I just feel so stupid, you know. Like, God, I climbed on a fucking tree for her!" she buries her head into her right hand and groans.

"What do you mean, for _her_?"

Santana shakes her head, and drops her hand. "Do you really wanna know?"

"Well, if you care to tell me," Quinn shrugs, trying not to sounds too desperate. "I"m all ears."

"Fine," Santana says, and a blush creeps up on her cheeks. "So, she broke up with me two months ago and I had a suspicion it was because of Mr. Froggylips, but she told me they were just friends. I just couldn't let it go, so I occasionally went by her house, you know…to check on her. God, that sounds so bad. Anyway, I was there this morning, when she got home from a party I guess and she was with him. So I tried to climb on that tree to get a good look at her bedroom, and then I fucking fell 'cause my dress got caught up. So that's it, now you are free to laugh your ass off…"

"That sounds a _teeny_ bit stalkerish…" Quinn laughs softly. "But we go to great lengths, when we feel like we've been betrayed."

"So you don't think I'm stupid?"

"Well, you _are_," Quinn says. "Climbing on that tree in _that_ dress was plain stupid."

"Yeah, I know," Santana sighs heavily. "And it was really not worth it to get my wrist broken for her _too_."

Quinn doesn't know what to say, so she just stands beside Santana's bed awkwardly until the woman talks again.

"So, if I go home now, does it mean you won't be my doctor anymore?"

The question surprises Quinn and she doesn't really know how to answer it. Santana stares at her with a mysterious look, and it makes her feel completely clueless. She doesn't know how this woman can make her feel so many different things in one day.

"Well, technically I am your doctor until you get discharged," Quinn says nervously. "Why do you ask?"

"Just because," Santana smirks at her smugly. "I don't want you to get in trouble when I ask you on a date."

/


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

She's never been happier for a typical Rachel Berry interruption.

It saves her from having to reply to Santana's suggestion. She doesn't really even know how to take her words and that rarely happens to Quinn Fabray. She is a master at figuring people out in a matter of minutes, but she has a very hard time figuring out Santana.

All she knows is that the woman is making her feel things she hasn't felt for a long time. Possibly never…

It's just that her luck that Santana happens to be her patient, and the best friend of her resident. Either one of these should be a no-go, but add these together and Quinn thinks she should just better let it go already and not even really consider the idea of dating Santana Lopez.

/

She does a good job of ignoring the issue completely for a week.

She focuses on her work, taking up extra shifts and diving into her research. By the time she usually gets home early in the morning, she only has strength to kick off her shoes and brush her teeth before passing out on the couch. The whole thing reminds her of her resident years, when she was determined to be the biggest shark in the pool and bite her way up the ladder. She worked day and night, and nothing else mattered in her life.

"You're a mess…"

She stirs awake, muscles hurting from the awkward position she's fallen asleep in and stretches her limbs before opening her eyes.

"Hey," she mumbles sleepily and follows Mercedes moving around the room, recognizing her empty take-out boxes in her hands.

"I would've done that myself," she says lazily and groans as she sits up. She realizes she's still wearing her pants and her button-down shirt, and rolls her eyes at herself. She's gonna ruin all her fancy clothes if this doesn't stop.

She rubs her eyes and clears her throat awkwardly, when Mercedes returns to the room and sits down on the armchair beside the couch. She looks at her expectantly, and Quinn knows she can't ignore the elephant in the room.

"This has got to stop, I'm telling you," Mercedes says finally, shaking her head at her. "What's wrong with you, girl?"

"I'm fine," she blurts out and feel stupid for it. "I'm just really into this research thing right now."

"Oh, yeah?" Mercedes raises an eyebrow and Quinn hates how her roommate can see right through her. "Is that why I've barely seen you for an entire week? I only know you ain't dead because you used up all the take-out food from the fridge."

"Thanks for making me sound so pathetic."

"I'm just worried about you," Mercedes shrugs her shoulders and knows it's the simplest truth.

Quinn reluctantly tells her what's been bugging her for an entire week. She thought that escaping into work would tire her out enough that she'd have no brain capacity left to think about Santana, but she was entirely wrong. Every minute she let herself go this week, her mind ended up drifting towards the memory of last Saturday and the way Santana looked at her.

"I had a feeling this is about a girl, but hell Quinn," Mercedes looks at her emphatically. "This ain't sound like a cakewalk."

"I know," Quinn groans and drops her head on the back of the couch. "And the worst thing is, I'm not even sure she meant it seriously. She seems like a major tease…like a person who'd just say stuff like this for fun."

"Well, maybe you'll see on Monday."

"Yeah," Quinn nods unsurely. "Maybe."

/

She's on edge all day, and it doesn't help that Rachel Berry is constantly on her heels. She is like an itch Quinn can't get rid of, no matter how hard she tries to scratch it away.

It's incredibly hard to not think of Santana in Rachel's presence. The fact that she has no idea how much Santana told Rachel about them is killing her.

What if the midget knows everything? She is Santana's best friend after all.

Sure, Quinn might be overreacting. Nothing really even happened last Saturday. It's not like Santana flat-out asked her on a date, it was just a suggestion, right? Maybe she was not supposed to take it seriously. Maybe Santana just played her.

She knows she's in trouble when she hopes Santana didn't.

/

She's a wreck by the time Kurt tells her Santana arrived for her appointment and she's waiting for Quinn in Room 413.

Kurt tells her Santana looks beautiful and wishes her good luck with a wink.

Quinn rolls her eyes, at him but quickly departs towards the closest bathroom to check her hair. She fusses it up a little at the back and smacks her lips together. She would look hot, if it weren't for the dark circles around her eyes that make her look forty. She gives up trying to appear decent, and sighs heavily.

"Pull yourself together, Fabray!"

/

"I was kinda hoping you'd never show."

It's not exactly the greeting she expected to hear, and she quirks her eyebrows as she closes the door behind herself.

Santana is sitting propped up on the examination bed, wearing a red dress that fits her form just _too_ tightly. It makes Quinn's mouth water and she glances away before she gets caught.

"That's not really a nice thing to say," she answers flatly, crossing the distance between them and touching Santana's splint to gently remove it.

Santana clicks her tongue, and uses their close proximity to lean in until Quinn can smell coffee and a menthol cigarette on her breath. The warmth of Santana's body and the smell of her perfume makes her light-headed and she swallows away the feeling.

"I was hoping you'd never show, so I could get another doctor."

Quinn stops her hands on Santana's injured arm and she frowns. "Why would you get another doctor?"

"You see, Doctor Fabray…" Santana smirks and crosses her legs in a way that her dress runs up high on her thighs. It makes Quinn lick her lips unconsciously, and she knows she got caught this time when Santana softly nudges her chin up. She blushes under the woman's stare, as Santana says "I got the impression last week that you wouldn't consider my offer as long as you are my doctor."

"You got that right," Quinn blurts out without thinking and instantly regrets it when Santana's face hardens and she pulls away.

"Wow, way to ruin the moment," she mutters grumpily.

Quinn just shakes her head, and decides to ignore this conversation and focus on Santana's treatment. That's why she is here after all. Not to flirt with her patient and think about how damn soft the skin of her thighs must be.

She removes Santana's splint and gently examines her wrist. The tension in the room is killing her, and she must put an end to the silence. "The swelling went down nicely, but I'd like to you to get an X-Ray to make sure everything stayed in the right place."

Santana nods, still refusing to look at her. Quinn just can't stand it any longer.

"You're not being fair to me."

Her words must surprise Santana, because she finally looks up at her. "What do you mean?"

"This is wrong on so many levels," Quinn whispers, shaking her head slowly.

Santana narrows her eyes and licks her lips in a way that makes Quinn gulp. She is terrified of what comes next. Santana catches her off-guard by touching her jaw and gently grazing her mouth with her fingertips. She has to hold back a moan and she is pretty sure she has to change her panties right after she gets out of this room.

"Maybe you're right," Santana says eventually, dropping her hand and leaving Quinn's face burning after the touch. "But it doesn't mean we can't be friend."

Quinn's eyes widen and her jaw drops. Now she is utterly confused.

"Friends?"

"What? I have friends," Santana huffs with indignation and shrugs her shoulders. "Well, I have Rachel."

"Yeah, and that is _just _perfect."

There's a short silence, and she has to pocket her hands to keep them from fumbling as she expects Santana to say something.

"Look, I know you like me," Santana says finally and holds up a finger when Quinn wants to cut her off. "No point pretending, since you eye-humped me like the whole time we've been here."

Quinn rolls her eyes and screams at herself internally for being so obvious with her ogling.

"So, you can either wait six more weeks to come on a date with me, _or_…" Santana says pointedly. "You can actually make use of that time and get to know me, so you won't just say yes, 'cause I'm the hottest bitch you've ever seen. Your call, Doctor Fabray. Just let me know when you make up your mind, deal?"

Quinn chuckles in embarrassment. She can't believe Santana's nerve. She stares at her dumbly and hates how Santana's lips turn into a smug smirk, like she knows exactly that Quinn can't deny her.

"Deal."

/

When Santana's X-Rays come back, Quinn is happy to see everything is in place in her forearm.

She sends the woman off with Kurt to get her cast and smiles fondly at the way Santana reluctantly lets Kurt help her walk, still limping a bit from the injured ankle.

They come back an hour later, because Santana insists on saying goodbye and she gives Quinn her phone number with a look that screams confidence.

Quinn pushes the note inside the pocket of her coat before anyone can notice, and tells Santana she will see her in two weeks for a check-up. Santana shoots her an annoyingly knowing smile before she limps away.

/

Quinn is pretty sure this is gonna be the hardest six weeks of her life.

She feels like a teenager again, with all this drama on her plate. She is twenty-nine for God's sake. She probably would've had a husband and two kids already like a good Republican she was raised to be, if it weren't for junior college where she realized she _might_ have a thing for girls that she's never felt for boys and ditched her former life to make her dream come true and become a doctor.

Ever since then, her romantic life is a bit of a mess.

And now here she is, twenty-nine years old, having a dream job and an infatuation with a woman she barely knows that can ruin her life.

She is standing at the nurse's station, gossiping with Lauren when the idea hits her. The ambulance car arrives with Noah Puckerman, and he gives her a wink as he rolls a guy in wheelchair inside.

He might be a pig, but he is still sort of hot. And that's all she needs right now to take her mind off of things.

/

It turns out to be the worst idea ever.

They are making out in the back of his car, after having so many shots at Joe's that she didn't even bother to count in the end. Her body is limp and uncontrolled, as he moves his tongue inside her mouth and works his way up her legs.

Even though she is drunk as fuck, she still can't relax. His hands feel too rough and his smell just makes her appalled. All she can think about is Santana's soft fingertips grazing her lips and the smell of her perfume.

She suddenly feels like barfing, and she pushes Noah away roughly.

He stares at her in bewilderment. "What the hell?"

She shakes her head, tears prickling at her eyes. She hates herself for letting this happen, _making_ this happen, even though she didn't do anything wrong. But then why does it feel so wrong?

"Just, this is wrong," she swallows and drags her dress back in place. "All of this is wrong."

"You didn't complain before."

"I need to get out," Quinn says, panicking when she feels the bile rise up in her throat.

Noah opens the door for her just in time, and she throws up in a nearby garbage can.

Dr. Quinn Fabray, attending surgeon of Lima Memorial Hospital throwing up outside of Joe's bar after almost having sex with Noah Puckerman, even though she is pretty sure she is a hundred percent lesbian.

_So classy, Q._

/

Noah has the decency to call her a cab, and she is sobering up by the time she gets home.

She wishes she wouldn't, and her way leads to the kitchen after she sneaks quietly into the house. She is not about to wake Mercedes up, and listen to a rant about how reckless she is. She opens the counter and finds a half-empty bottle of vodka.

It will do, she decides and grabs it, taking it into her bedroom.

She kicks off her heels and crawls on her bed, undoing the bottle and taking a gulp. The alcohol burns her throat and she feels very smart for taking tomorrow off, because this will not end well for sure.

She takes another gulp and sets the bottle on her nightstand. Her hand brushes a piece of paper and she grabs it, frowning.

It's Santana's number.

She groans and buries her face into the pillows, closing her fist around the note.

/

She feels like she might die any moment, when she wakes up.

She doesn't remember half of the night, but she remembers _why_ she ended up in this situation.

After a shower, two painkillers and bottle of water, she feels ready to confront herself.

She doesn't know why Santana sent her down this spiral, all she knows is that these feelings are entirely new to her. Of course she's dated women before and had relationships, but she's never really wanted to kiss someone so badly after just one encounter. She is not sure if it's just pure lust working in her or more, but Santana's continuous teasing torture sure doesn't help in figuring it out.

She tried to forget about Santana by escaping into work for a week, and a hook-up last night, but both failed spectacularly.

She doesn't know what else there is that could possibly make it go away, so she gives up finding a cure to her Santana disease and decides to give in.

/

She texts Santana if they could meet sometime this week, and the woman replies with a winking emoji, saying she is free all week.

It's not a surprise since she has a broken wrist, and Quinn wonders what the woman actually does for a living. She basically knows nothing about her, but this might change pretty soon and the prospect excites Quinn, even though that's hard to admit.

/

She is sitting in the Lima Bean's parking lot, and counting the seconds until the clock hits 5.

She would hate to appear early and seem too eager. She will just get a coffee with Santana, and it doesn't have to mean anything. It's just two people having coffee and talking, that's it, simple as that. She doesn't break any rules by having coffee and talking.

And nobody has to know about it anyway.

This place couldn't be any further from the hospital, so the possibility of anyone from work seeing them is close to zero. She was careful that way when picking a place to meet.

/

She spots Santana sitting at a table in the corner, staring out of the window, deeply in thoughts.

She seems different somehow, and Quinn can't really put a finger on it. Santana looks stunning again, wearing a form-hugging dress (again…) that matches the color of her cast and a leather jacket. Quinn lingers at the door, enjoying that she can stare at her for a bit without getting caught. She feels like she really sees Santana for the first time, in her natural habitat and her thick walls down.

The moment is gone when Santana spots her and shoots her a familiar smirk.

Quinn makes her way towards her table, and sits down opposite Santana, who says hi.

"Hey," she replies a bit too fast, and blushes. Santana seems to enjoy her affect on her. Quinn averts her eyes, and glances at her wrist. "Um, who brought you here?"

"Rachel."

"What?" The blood drains from her brain and she stares at Santana madly. She can't believe this. "You told her you're meeting me?"

"Hold up, princess," Santana clicks her tongue. "Don't pee your pants. It would be a waste to ruin them, 'cause they look really pretty on you. I didn't tell Rachel a thing, all right?"

"Oh, okay," Quinn says shyly. She couldn't wish for a more awkward start to this conversation. "So…do you come here often?"

It's a genuine question, because this place is not something that really suits Santana at first sight. It's full of plushy cushions and wooden tables, and there're book stacks all over the walls.

"I sense a bit of surprise in your tone, but I will choose to let it slide for now," Santana quirks an eyebrow and Quinn shoots her a small smile. "I'm actually a journalist, and this is a perfect place to write."

"That's amazing," Quinn's eyes light up. "What do you write about?"

"Music," Santana replies. "I write critics for the Ohio Times…and some online magazines."

The waitress comes to take their orders, then Quinn nods for Santana to continue. They talk about music for a long time, and discover that they share quite a lot of favorite artists. Santana tells her about her extensive music library, and offers to make a list of artist for Quinn to check out, judging from her taste. They are in the middle of sharing memories about high school show choir when Santana's phone vibrates on the table.

"Sorry, it's just Rachel asking when she should come pick me up," Santana rolls her eyes at the screen. "I feel like a freaking toddler."

Quinn smiles sadly, feeling sympathy for her. "I guess you don't take it really well, when people try to take care of you?"

Santana shrugs. "I've always been very independent."

"You can continue to do that in six weeks," Quinn says. "Until then, you should rest and let people help you."

"I know, just…" Santana trails off, averting Quinn's eyes. She seems more vulnerable than Quinn's ever seen her before, and that's saying something because she's seen her passed out in an emergency room. "I just don't really have a lot of people, you know, and Rachel is…"

"She is a resident."

Realization dawns on Quinn, and she feels desperate to somehow help Santana. She stares into her eyes sincerely, and it must be too much because Santana drops her gaze on the table and takes a sip from her mocha latte.

"Anyway, I have a question," she says when she looks back up at Quinn again. Quinn knows from her expression that they're on topic again and it makes her insides twist with nerves. "Did you think about what I said?"

Quinn clears her throat, but it remains dry. "I guess…there's no harm in being just friends."

Santana's lips turn into a wide grin. "Just friends, _for now_."

"You're really stubborn," Quinn says disapprovingly, but she can't stop herself from smiling. "It would be cute, if it wasn't so damn annoying."

"Oh, she thinks I'm cute!"

"Way to twist my words."

Quinn feels so red now, she wants to hide under the table where Santana can't see her. But then again, she would be staring at Santana's thighs then and that wouldn't really help the situation.

"You like it, Blondie," Santana shoots her a wink. "Don't deny it!"

"Would you stop calling me these names?" Quinn huffs in annoyance.

"What should I call you then?" Santana quirks an eyebrow. "Doctor Fabray?"

"No," Quinn shrugs. "Just Quinn."

"All right, Quinn," Santana says pointedly with a genuine smile. It slowly turns into a cocky smirk though and that rarely means a good thing. "But I can't promise to stick to that during sex."

Quinn coughs on her coffee and she almost chokes, which seems to really amuse Santana. She hates how easily Santana can play with her. It is annoying as hell. She tries to collect herself, while Santana stares at her unabashedly.

"Look, we gotta be clear about the rules for this to work," Quinn tells her seriously, and Santana leans back in her chair, raising her eyebrows expectantly. "There won't be sex, or anything like that. So you can stop with the innuendos, because it's just not happening. Also, you could maybe try put on actual clothes in the future for a change."

Santana clicks her tongue. "You ain't seen nothing yet, baby."

"Ugh, this is exactly what I mean," Quinn lets out an exasperated groan and runs her fingers through her hair.

"Fine, I will butch it up and put on baggy jeans next time so you won't get a lady-boner."

"Thanks," Quinn says with a glare. "And again, stop with the names please. They make me feel uncomfortable."

"I think they just make you turned on."

Quinn stands up from her seat angrily. She's done. She's had enough. This woman is driving her absolutely crazy and she hates it.

"Maybe it was a bad idea to come here," she tells Santana, her voice wavering from the anger. She dives into her purse to get a ten dollar bill, and puts it on the table. Santana stares at it with an expression Quinn can't decipher. "That must be enough to cover my order. See you in the hospital, Santana."

She turns on her heels, about to run off, when she hears the chair creaking on the floor behind her and then a painful groan coming from Santana. "Fuck," Santana says, squeezing her eyes closed as she supports herself on the table with her uninjured hand.

Quinn's anger instantly evaporates and she steps back to Santana, putting an arm around her waist. She can't help but notice how warm she is. Santana relaxes into her, and it somehow shocks Quinn how close they are all of a sudden. She can't let go of Santana though, and tries to stop her heart from rummaging in her ribcage. She is sure Santana can feel it against her side where they're touching. "I'm sorry, Quinn," Santana whispers, her breath hitting Quinn's lips and it makes her heart flutter as Santana utters her name. "I was a jerk. Please don't go!"

Quinn swallows hard, and nods. She helps Santana ease back into her chair and they settle into silence for long minutes. She watches the emotions playing around Santana's beautiful features.

"Fuck, I'm just gonna say it," she blurts out finally, and licks her lips. "I like you, Quinn."

Quinn's heart skips a beat and she sort of wants to hear that again to be sure she heard it right.

"Really?"

"Yes," Santana admits reluctantly, a blush creeping up on her round cheeks. "And if you'd rather not meet me for six weeks, that's fine. I meant it when I said I don't want you to get into trouble."

Quinn leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. Santana looks up at her behind her lashes and she is like a tiny puppy right now, not a grown-up bulldog that she usually appears to be.

"Six weeks seem like an awfully long time…" Quinn says with a smile and loves the way how she turned the tables on Santana and now the woman is hanging on her words with a desperate expression. "Besides, who can blame me if I sometimes check on my patient in my free time too?"

"I sure won't complain."

"Then we got ourselves a deal."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Review if you like!<strong>


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Glee, Humor, Romance