“Quinn do you think I’m pretty?”
“Tell me you’re joking.”
Santana rolled her eyes at herself, cringing at the obvious question. “I don’t mean like, do you think I’m attractive like I specifically want to know if you think I’m pretty.”
“Like am I personally attracted to you? Yes babe, I think you’re gorgeous. Was that it?”
“No like.” The brunette huffed, struggling to verbalize what was on her mind. “like I need to know if you think I’m like, pretty. Like, like I don’t know like a girl. Like not necessarily beautiful or gorgeous like a woman but like, I don’t know pretty like a girl. Can I be a girl to you. I guess?”
“Are you asking me if I think you’re female? Because I do, you don’t need to ask me to do that.” The blonde's coldness set Santana on edge. She felt a level of anxiety, like she was preparing for a fight with her mom or something.
“No I mean like… I don’t know it was a dumb question I’m sorry.”
There were a few seconds where the conversation fell off. No words between them were exchanged and Santana imagined the air growing denser, although she knew Quinn probably didn’t feel the same.
“Wait.” Quinn put down her pencil and looked up from the notes she was studying from. “Are you feeling okay? I’ve never known you to be someone who apologizes for things, even when you probably should. If there’s something on your mind you can tell me about it.”
“It’s whatever. I’m just like, feeling insecure or something I don’t know.”
Quinn got up from her desk and slid under the covers next to her girlfriend, unnaturally docile and meek as she curled into her girlfriends arms.
“Are you sure? We can try to figure out what you meant by your pretty question earlier.” Quinn stroked the top of the brunette's head while Santana muzzled her elbow.
“basically I was just wondering how you see me. I guess. Like not on a gender level necessarily but like a… humane level? I guess?” Santana turned away from Quinn, letting the taller girl spoon her softly from behind while trying to keep the pain in her heart from growing.
“So you want me to tell you I think of you as more than a sex object?” Quinn's arms were wrapped around Santana’s stomach, her hips pressed flush against Santana’s soft, round, skirt clad ass.
“Not if its just for the sake of saying it. I want to know how you see me, not to be validated for how I want to be seen. I don’t know how I want to be seen. If I’m an emotionless whore to you I’ll be your emotionless whore. But I have complexities and I don’t want to confuse you with them.”
Quinn knit her well manicured eyebrows together, pondering what exactly could’ve brought this on. “I mean… obviously you’re more than an emotionless whore to me Santana. I mean, you’re my friend, I’ve known you since we were fourteen. I’ve told you more about me than I’d tell my diary on my deathbed. I love you in a very… substantial way. I like to think I know how your heart works, and when I don’t I know you’ll tell me because you trust me too.”
“it’s not just that its like. When you see me, or think of me I guess, does it ever register to you that I was younger than when we first met once? Like, you’ve known me since I was 14 but can you imagine what I was like at 8? When I was in elementary school, would you have held my hand if I cried because my dad took too long to pick me up, or would you tell me he’ll come eventually and that crying wouldn’t make him come faster?”
“I care. If that’s what you’re getting at. I do care about your emotions, even irrational ones. If you’re sad, I won’t tell you its not that big a deal. Because if it weren’t that big a deal then you wouldn’t be sad! Which is why I’m hugging you right now by the way. I love you even when your angst is unexplained and hard to console. If your general malaise needs tending to, I’ll tend to it.”
“but my general malaise is just part of the human condition. What if I’m always like this then.”
“then whenever you’re distressed by it I’ll drop what I’m doing to come hold you. You’re important to me, I don’t want you to be sad but I know helping the problem works better than trying to bargain it away. I love you Santana. I love you a lot.”
Quinn pressed her soft pink lips to the side of Santana’s neck, cradling the slightly smaller girl in her arms. Quinn knew they were the same size, same build, but she still felt like there was a fragility in Santana’s frame. Perhaps it was just her read on the emotions in the air, but she always felt like when she held Santana she was softer than when she slapped her. If they were fighting in the locker room Quinn wouldn’t worry about throwing her around a little, but in bed she was worried to breathe on her wrong. Like the wrong look could break her.
“I know. I just want to know if you think I’m pretty" Santana sighed, hands gently coming together, fingers curled over the very top of her sleeves.
“I think you’re the prettiest girl in the world. You’re my pretty little princess. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Santana giggled, letting her back press into Quinn’s chest. “Yeah. I love you too by the way.”
“I know.” Quinn kissed her girlfriend on the cheek and went back to cuddling her. If Santana wanted to feel like a princess, she’d made her feel like one alright.