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Goodnight From Me, Good Morning To You

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The problem with letting Santana know you were going to kiss her meant you actually had to kiss her.

Of course there was no problem with that, you were looking forward to it, you were eagerly awaiting the exact moment because those lips, and the way she looked at you, told you just how amazing that kiss was going to be.

But getting the right moment, choosing the best moment to actually kiss her, that was a whole other ball game.

What if you caught her off guard? What if she didn't want to kiss you in public? What if you appeared too eager? What if she wanted you to kiss her the second you saw her? What if she felt rejected if you held off for a little bit? What if...what if you screwed this up by over analysing every little detail of it?

Sighing, and flouncing back onto your bed, you knew that you could easily waste several hours thinking the whole situation over, and still not find the right answer. So instead, you needed to be proactive. You needed to get up off the bed, you needed to grab a coat, put some shoes on, and get out of your dorm room. You needed to just go about your regular day like nothing big was going to happen.

And that plan worked, until you opened the door of B02, and saw Santana crouched down by the vinyl stacks there, with headphones in, and lost in her own little world.

She would see you, eventually, and you needed to think of what your next move would be. This felt like a carefully planned chess game, where every move would be scrutinised and analysed, and you didn't want to sacrifice your first move for nothing.

Only, when you thought about kissing Santana, you didn't imagine it with seven other students all within hearing distance and a clear shot of what might happen. And that thought at least allowed you to score off the possibility of kissing her right away when you saw her. Because no. That wasn't going to happen.

B02 might be one of your favourite places on campus, but you didn't want to kiss her while Sam tried to work out if he could do a perfect hip roll, and a few of the others getting ones out of their wallets and purses to throw at him.

So no. Scrap that plan. You'd do it later. Sometime later.

Even though you weren't going to be kissing Santana, you felt it was rude not to say hi to her, at least. You didn't want to give her the impression you were scared, even though you were, because that didn't scream sexy. And why you wanted to be seen as sexy when you were incapable of having sex was beyond you. But whatever. You could obsess over that fact later.

For now, you just wanted to let Santana know you weren't freaked out, you weren't going back on what you said, and that you fully had the intention to kiss her at some point during the day, or maybe this evening, whatever worked best.

Only, that sounded like you were going to arrange a time and location, which no. That wasn't sexy. That was like organised sex. Poor and stale. Or so you'd heard, because obviously your sex record was pretty blank. Thanks Puck.

Anyway, you digressed, you just wanted to let her know that you were still keen to talk to her, and that it wasn't all about her lips, and what they would feel like against yours.

And the best way to do was that, to overcome all that, was to approach her, see how she was doing, what she was doing, and maybe ease into a conversation about the weather or something equally boring. Just to let her know you were still interested. That you weren't scared. That you weren't freaking out. Because, please, did it look like you were freaking out?

You were the Queen of cool, you.

Dumping your bag by the couches, and ignoring Sam earning a good bit of money from his perfectly mastered hip rolls, you headed over to where Santana was seated in front of the stereo.

She saw you approach, and with a smile, she patted the spot next to her. You took a seat, looking at the records in front of you, and then to her tired look.

"What are you up to?" you asked, wondering if something was wrong.

"Trying to work out if this song is appropriate for my set." She indicated to one of the records, but you weren't sure which one it was. Though, that wasn't the point, because your mind was stuck on what she'd said. When did Santana bother with what was appropriate?

She always struck you as someone who was willing to push the boat out, to test the boundaries and limitations set, so to see her questioning herself over this, it stumped you.

"Appropriate?" you frowned at the word, and Santana passed you the headphones.

"I don't want any religious nuts thinking I'm calling out to them." That had you frowning deeper, but you accepted the headphones, putting them on, and awaited Santana dropping the needle on the track so you could hear just what she was worried about.

You didn't recognise the intro, so pointed for the vinyl cover to find out what you were about to listen to. It sounded like a typical 60s folk song, and reading the cover, you saw that the song was "Turn! Turn! Turn! (to Everything There Is a Season)" by The Byrds, which was an accurate description of it.

To everything, turn, turn, turn.

There is a season, turn, turn, turn.

And a time to every purpose under heaven.

A time to be born, a time to die.

A time to plant, a time to reap.

A time to kill, a time to heal.

A time to laugh, a time to weep.

To everything, turn, turn, turn.

There is a season, turn, turn, turn.

And a time to every purpose under heaven.

A time to build up, a time to break down.

A time to dance, a time to mourn.

A time to cast away stones.

A time to gather stones together.

Which each new line, you recognised the words more, but struggled to place them exactly. They certainly sounded familiar, although in a different order, but you didn't have chapter and verse available on the top of your head. Your father would be so disappointed.

However, the words themselves felt rather poignant, and as you listened the dong out, you wondered if this was Santana's way of letting you know there was no rush. You were probably reading too much into it, but the song was telling you exactly what you needed to hear.

There was a time for everything, and you just needed to wait, because rushing it, forcing the kiss, would be a waste.

Taking off the headphones, as the song played out, you handed them back, and examined the vinyl cover some more.

"Sounds familiar, the lyrics, I mean, but I don't know where from."

"Book of Ecclesiastes, but its in the King James Bible. The words are in a different order, but it still carries that religious aura to it. I don't want to get into that kind of debate."

"Yet you're happy to get into the political ones?" Santana raised her eyebrows in question, and you made to expand on your point. "A lot of your songs are written about the Cold War, of from the Cold War era, which is telling in the song itself. So, if that political situation didn't stop you, why let religion stop you?"

"Please, I'm very careful with what I play. The only reason Enola Gay by Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark hasn't played on air is because of that exact reason."

"But why not? It reminds people, it sparks the conversation, the research, for some, into what that means. It's not just a catchy dance song. I don't see why you would hold back."

"You don't think there are just some topics to be avoided?"

"Not if my music era was the 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s, and 90s," you teased, shaking your head at her, and earning an eyeroll in return "You're covering the music of Vietnam, Bay of Pigs, the moon landing, the Cold War, Thatcher, Bloody Sunday, Brixton Riots, and a huge number of other life changing moments. There are so many amazing songs about so many horrible things, and yeah, a lot of them turned out to be catchy dance songs, but it filled the nightclubs, or the house parties, and everyone knew about what was going on. So why not keep it up?" you asked, although it was rhetorical. Santana gave it a moments thought before pushing on your shoulder, with a smile playing on her lips.

"You're a pain in my ass, you know that?" You grinned, and watched her.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm going to have to change my set list for tonight," she grumbled, and you laughed, feeling victorious.

"If you need any more help, let me know," you teased, and she rolled her eyes.

"You've done enough damage, but thanks." Glancing up at the clock, Santana folded up her scribbled notes, and then began putting the records back in their slots. "I've got class in fifteen. So I'll finish this tonight at the station." You stood up with her, and nodded, knowing that you might have an opportunity to see later, if she didn't mind you being there. "You'll cove come over tonight, right? I mean, you'll be at the station?" Santana asked, before trying to make an exit, and you nodded.

"Yeah, of course." That was good, that was a step in the right direction, that was just want you needed to hear. She smiled and then began walking away, only to turn back around and shoot you a bemused look.

"Oh, and am I expecting a kiss today, or was that just lip service?" she teased, and you found yourself rolling your eyes at her, much to her amusement.

"I'll kiss you, but I'm doing it on my time."

"Your time? I didn't know you had your own time. You'll need to show it to me someday." God, she was infuriating.

"Get lost," you barked, and she laughed.

"Going." And with that, Santana left you, with heat on your cheeks, and a smile on your lips.


For the rest of the day, you went about things like nothing exciting was happening. However, from the way your heart raced at the thought, and the somersaults your stomach was doing, it was obvious that you were a little amped up about what was ahead.

When you finally did make it to the radio station, a little after eleven o'clock that night, you felt like you'd had six espresso shots and a case of energy drinks. God knows why you were geared up so much, especially when you were so damn good at freaking out over the simplest things, and this had 'meltdown' written all over it.

Except, all that changed when you saw Santana standing amongst the music, enjoying the song that was playing over the speakers, and suddenly all the nerves were gone.

You felt confident, with the nerves and excitement dying away, and leaving you calm, composed, and god, you needed to kiss her.

Walking down the aisle to where she was standing, Santana caught sight of you and smirked. It had you smiling at her as you neared closer, until you were within a few feet.

"Rumour has it you're going to kiss me today," she said, eyes full of amusement.

"Do you always believe the rumours?" you shot back, and Santana's smirk calmed a little.

"Not always, but I had it on good authority that you'd be kissing me. Am I wrong?"

"No, you're right." And the smirk was back. "I am going to kiss you." This statement was followed up by you moving to stand only a few inches away from her, leaning on the stack of records, mimicking her pose.

"Are you actually going to do it, or are you just going to keep saying you'll kiss me?" she teased, practically laughing at you, making you grin.

"Shut up, and I'll do it." You would, you were so close, physically as well as mentally prepared. It would only take one step, one moment for you to lean in...

"So you keep saying, yet, I have no proof you'll follow through," she added, looking mock confused, and god, would she just be quiet for a moment?

"Santana!" you moaned at her, and she laughed back at you.

"Quinn!" she called, mocking you further.

"You're impossible."

"You're nervous," she finally said, losing the smirk and replacing it with a soft smile. Her gaze was warm, inviting, and she could obviously see that while you built yourself up to be confident, it did lack in some areas.

"So?" How very eloquent of you.

"It's just me, you know. I already danced burlesque for you, changed my whole set for you, dedicated songs to you, so I'm pretty sure I'm buying whatever it is you're selling." All of that was true.

"Probably not the best idea to use an idiom that implies I'm a prostitute, Santana," you rolled your eyes, just to give her a hard time for the sake of a hard time. But she saw right through it, and waved it off.

"Whatever. Are you going to kiss me? Cause I've been looking forward to this all day. Don't let a girl down." You wouldn't. You wouldn't. You couldn't.

Thinking about it for a moment, you realised, it wasn't this big thing. With her, it wasn't a big deal, it wasn't this monumental occasion that you were building it up to be. It was just a kiss, a carefree, happy, smiling, kiss. Or it was going to be, when you finally kissed her.

It wasn't a moment of dread for what might come, because she wasn't pressuring you. She wasn't desperate to get her hand under your skirt, and get you on your back. She wasn't rushing you. She was letting you lead, and for that, you couldn't be more thankful.

She hadn't shut your nerves up with her own kiss, she hadn't moaned at you for not following through, she was giving you an out, as well as letting you know that she had been looking forward to it, that there were no doubts on her end.

It was exactly what you needed to hear, and to show how serious you were about it all, you found yourself licking your lips, and glancing down at hers. You were smiling, and so was she at the recognition of what was about to happen.

Crossing the threshold, the last few centimetres between you both, you felt your lips ghosting over hers, breathing in the air Santana was breathing out, her eyes piercing yours, her gaze darker, still as inviting, but promising so much more.

And then finally, your lips pecked Santana's softly, just experiencing a glimpse of their softness, which was fleeting, so quick you could have imagined it.

But then you were back, your lips on hers, hers kissing you back, catching your bottom lip between hers, moving in to kiss you back again and again. And you were lost. She was soft, and gentle, but the kiss was firm enough to show her desire, to remind you that she wanted you, very much so. And her hands on your waist were a big enough reminder of that, with one then moving to cup your cheek, to run through your hair, to keep you close, and God, you felt like you were drowning in this kiss, but it was a death worth dying.

She had your heart racing, your mind numb, and your body alight. You couldn't get enough. Another kiss, another whimper, another kiss, another caress, another kiss, another stolen breath.

Until no more, until you needed to breath, properly this time, until you broke away, leaning your forehead on hers, and trying to catch your breath. It was still the very one she was breathing out, though, but even then, that was better than the alternative; moving away from her.

You wanted nothing more than to kiss her again, to wrap your arms around her neck and kiss her until your lips were bruised.

"God," Santana moaned, her hands back on your hips and giving them a light squeeze.

"Worth the wait?" you wondered, your voice as husky as hers.

"You have no idea," she groaned, leaning in, kissing you again, making you forget your name, where you were, and everything else that was going on other than her kiss. "Stick around tonight?" Santana asked, pulling back again, and you were powerless to say no.

"Yeah? You sure?" You weren't quite sure if that was a good idea, but like you said, powerless.


"Of course." That earned you a grin, and then Santana was dropping her head onto your shoulder and turning your embrace into a hug. "You okay?" you wondered, hugging her back, loving the feeling of her arms around you.

"I'm great." You believed her, fully, as she grinned at you. "Now, come on, I need your help fixing the set I destroyed earlier." Nodding, you accepted her hand in yours, and followed her around the stacks, searching for certain records, and offering suggestions here and there.

You couldn't keep the smile off your face, and neither could she, which only made you smile wider.

That was the type of kiss you needed, no pressure, no strings attached, no fine print, just a kiss that held potential, and a girl who made your body sing from simple touches. Santana was everything you needed and wanted, without ever realising it.


"Evening all," Santana chimed, "I hope you're all having a good night, or a good morning, depending on how you view it. To kick things off, we're going to start with some OMD - that's Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, for any uneducated folks out there. This is a personal favourite, and while not only catchy, the lyrics are a step above everything else. This was smart writing, educational and timeless. Listen, take it in, and learn."

Enola Gay, you should have stayed at home yesterday

Ah-ha words can't describe the feeling and the way you lied

These games you play they're going to end in more than tears some day

Ah-ha Enola Gay it shouldn't ever have to end this way

It's eight fifteen and that's the time that it's always been

We got your message on the radio

Conditions normal and you're coming home

Enola Gay, is mother proud of Little Boy today

Ah-ha this kiss you give, it's never going to fade away

Enola Gay, it shouldn't ever have to end this way

Ah-ha Enola Gay, it shouldn't fade in our dreams away

It's eight fifteen and that's the time that it's always been

We got your message on the radio

Conditions normal and you're coming home

Enola Gay, is mother proud of Little Boy today

Ah-ha this kiss you give, it's never ever going to fade away

"Too much?" Santana asked, and you shook your head in reply, sitting in the booth with her. "You sure?" she asked again.

"I'm sure." That had her smiling, and she reached across to hold your hand.

"Thanks, know...with the songs," she shrugged, like it was nothing, and you laughed, shaking your head. That side of her was definitely foreign to you, but it was definitely interesting to see it, and you wondered just how comfortable Santana was with you now.

"I didn't do anything, so definitely no reason to thank me," you replied.

"Lies, but whatever. Now, let me work, or I'll kick you out," she teased, and please, like that would ever happen.

Except it did.

"I need you to leave the booth. I can't concentrate with you here," Santana said, twenty minutes later, and you couldn't quite believe what you were hearing.

"You're kidding?" She had to be kidding. There was just no way.

"Quinn, I dropped the needle late. That's my talent, being able to get it perfect. But I've screwed it up. So please, please, just wait out there?" Santana said, pointing through the glass window to the music library.

"You're ridiculous," you uttered, shocked.

"And you have destroyed me with your lips," she said dramatically, causing you to roll your eyes, ruffling her hair as you passed, to leave her to her work.

You weren't going to argue, because the song currently playing was running out of time, and please, you weren't going to be that girl. But still, you really couldn't believe she'd kicked you out of the booth.

And it was absurd that within ten minutes of you being out the booth, Santana seemed to have found her talent back. And when she dropped the needle on the vinyl perfect, she stood up in celebration after and used the time to dance to the song playing through the speakers.

You were annoyed at yourself for finding it endearing, and you internally grumbled at yourself for wanting to go back in the booth and kiss her again, just to see if that would screw up her set again.

Santana would probably have kittens if you did, so best not to. Or, not until she was crazy about you to the point she couldn't get mad at you. Give it time.

As you were no longer allowed in the booth, you headed off to make yourself busy; putting cds back in their rightful place and cleaning up the shelves. It was usually all done by Santana's set, but there was enough for you to pass the time until the most important part of her set.

"My last song of the night is, you've guessed it, a classic," Santana teased, knowing the Facebook page was going to be inundated with comments about that again. "But, it's also special to me right now because I have been dazed these last few hours, and honestly, I don't know how I've made it through this set in one piece. I am reeling, I am lost, because this amazing girl kissed me today, and my mind has vanished on me. Hopefully, tomorrow I'll be back with regular programming, but until then, enjoy the Pretenders' with Don't Get Me Wrong. And with that, it's goodnight from me, and good morning to you," Santana finished, sounding so upbeat, like she was grinning into the mic, and you felt the heat in your cheeks.

The song matched Santana's sign off mood, and you laughed when you got to the end of the aisle, shaking your head at her through the glass window. She had her hand over her heart and was looking at you in a way that had you weak.

You really might just be falling head over heels for this girl; and you had no problem with that. No problem at all.

Don't get me wrong

If I'm looking kind of dazzled

I see neon lights

Whenever you walk by

Don't get me wrong

If you say "hello" and I take a ride

Upon a sea where the mystic moon

Is playing havoc with the tide

Don't get me wrong

Don't get me wrong

If I'm acting so distracted

I'm thinking about the fireworks

That go off when you smile

Don't get me wrong

If I split like light refracted

I'm only off to wander

Across a moonlit mile

Once in awhile

Two people meet

Seemingly for no reason

They just pass on the street

Suddenly thunder, showers everywhere

Who can explain the thunder and rain

But there's something in the air

Don't get me wrong

If I come and go like fashion

I might be great tomorrow

But hopeless yesterday

Don't get me wrong

If I fall in the 'Mode of Passion'

It might be unbelievable

But let's not say "So long"

It might just be fantastic

Don't get me wrong