Chapter Text
Never one to be unprepared, Santana had done her research. As soon as she'd received the email requesting her appearance on a right wing, conservative talk show she looked into the network and, more specifically, the show's host.
Needless to say, she was glad she'd done so.
Quinn Fabray had been hosting the show for less than a year but had apparently made her career disparaging and dehumanizing marginalized communities. Santana didn't have to look hard to know that Quinn was incredibly smart. She was a Yale alumna and had a deep knowledge of journalism judging from her extensive curriculum vitae. She was a young, southern Baptist, white woman who hated "other" and reveled in her privilege without a care in the world. She was offensive and it seemed like not a damn thing she managed to say on her show was founded in truth, but she knew how to argue her point. And there was nothing more dangerous than someone who was confident, even when they were wrong.
Santana knew it was going to be a difficult interview. That said, she was confident in her own intelligence and oratorical ability. The imposter syndrome that she'd struggled so hard to overcome in college was nowhere to be seen. She knew her accolades: Youngest to ever be elected to her state's House of Representatives, Phi Delta Phi in law school, National Debate Tournament champion during her Junior year in college—really, the list went on and on (and she'd be remiss to not include all of the soccer tournaments won during her childhood, because her father often joked that those were what he was most proud of).
Furthermore, she knew her field inside and out. She'd been making a name for herself in criminal law when, fed up with the state of her community and the mistreatment of marginalized groups on the state and federal level, she ran for local office. But it wasn't just her tenacity that had helped her win the hearts of her constituents in District 31. It was her story of devastating loss; of a tragedy that had left her family in pieces. That event was what drove her to dive headfirst into the political arena and she hadn't looked back ever since.
Whenever faced with something daunting, Santana reminded herself that she'd already overcome the darkest moments of her life. Nothing could intimidate her now, not even Quinn Fabray and what was likely to be a trap of an interview. Plus, after careful review of prior interviews with more liberal guests, Santana had familiarized herself Quinn's plan of attack. Her modus operandi was simple: ease into the topic, say something completely left-field and confounding right before commercial break, and not give her guest an appropriate amount of time to respond before moving onto the next topic. Rarely did she use personal attacks, but the discussions did get heated.
Santana had prepared for this night and this interview. It was why, when Quinn opened her show by praising her career she was caught off guard. It was strange hearing the blonde congratulate her for being a female trailblazer in her southern state. When the talk show host highlighted the fact that she'd served on the city council during her time in law school and when she first started working in criminal law (where she was a part of the County Criminal Justice Advisory Committee and the Crime Cabinet), she found herself at a loss of words. She merely offered a smile and a quick "thank you" all the while wondering if she'd actually prepared enough for the interview. However, Quinn didn't allow her to fumble on camera. Her hazel eyes hardened just a little, and that's where the praises ended.
And Santana, she managed to keep her cool while Quinn transitioned from generous talk show host to cruel, calculated right-wing pundit. The politician couldn't believe just how completely racist, xenophobic, and bigoted Quinn managed to be. Well, she could believe it because she'd done her research. In fact, it was one of the many reasons she'd agreed to appear on the show in the first place. She wanted to challenge and correct the blonde on some of her misinformation regarding undocumented immigrants. That said, she'd still felt out of sorts when the cameras were finally off.
That feeling sunk deeper as she removed her mic and she wondered if she'd been too quick to assume she'd have the upper hand in this. She felt like she'd held her own, but there had been moments she'd been absolutely frustrated.
What she was sure of, ultimately, was that it was done and she was anxious to flee from the set, get to her hotel room, and call up a friend to vent to about the irritating interview. At least, those were her immediate plans when Quinn approached her.
The blonde's expression was difficult to read—it was as if she was conveying an openness that was inherently false. Santana had learned very quickly that this sort of expression, regardless of the face wearing it, was only ever formed when someone desired something from another.
"Representative Lopez, thank you so much for appearing on the show," Quinn offered a small smile while her expression grew uncomfortable before it became unreadable again.
Santana could only think that this woman was the type who was constantly putting on an act. In fact, Quinn seemed too put together to be real. Long blond hair, curled just right and make up accenting her hazel eyes more than anything else. There was not a wrinkle on her bright red dress despite having been seated for the past hour.
"Thank you for having me," Santana responded half-heartedly, trying to keep herself from rolling her eyes.
"Now that the cameras are off, how about we have an off the record convo? We could talk over drinks. I happen to know that the hotel the network set you up in has an excellent bar."
And then, Santana was surprised. And confused. Mostly confused. Why on earth was Quinn Fabray asking her to drinks? Had she just imagined the past hour where they spent the majority of the time arguing and disagreeing about everything? No, she hadn't imagined it and she could merely wonder if it were at all possible for anyone to want to spend any voluntary time in the blonde's presence. She tried to take a moment to settle her thoughts, tucking her hair behind her ear before responding.
"Actually Ms. Fabray, I'm a bit tired and I have an early flight," she began to decline but Quinn was not having it.
"Did I scare you that much?" Quinn countered and Santana bristled at the assumption. It was too late when she realized she'd failed at hiding her offense because Quinn's lips split into a grin. "News outlets would love to hear that Representative Lopez rudely declined friendly drinks following an interview."
"That's… That doesn't even make sense. How was my response rude?"
"You refuse to call me Quinn," the blonde countered with a non sequitur. Santana didn't let the failure to answer her question appropriately distract her.
"Ok, Quinn," Santana emphasized the name, "I apologize, but I will not be able to have drinks with you tonight."
Quinn leveled her with a look. She looked genuinely disappointed.
"One drink, Representative Lopez," she tried again and Santana wanted to throw her hands up in disbelief. Why wouldn't this woman take no for an answer?
"Why? Why are you so keen on this drink?"
Quinn seemed to pause for a moment before glancing around the set and leaning just a bit closer to Santana. Her voice dropped in volume and while she was not quite whispering, she clearly did not want what she was going to say to be heard by anyone but Santana.
"You seem like an intelligent woman and I'd like to have an honest conversation with you about the things we just discussed—no cameras, no dramatics. Just…" and she seemed to trail off, but then leaned back again, keeping Santana's gaze, clearly without intent of finishing her sentence.
Perhaps, Santana thought, she wasn't the only imposter in the room. So, against her better judgement she agreed and left to wait for Quinn in the lobby of the building. Santana was surprised by Quinn's brazen behavior, but she figured she could endure another half hour or so with the woman and then simply excuse herself to her room to sleep before her flight the following morning.
What she hadn't planned for was actually enjoying the first half hour at the hotel bar. Outside the studio, Quinn Fabray was every bit infuriating, but most certainly an enigma. She'd clearly been trained in debate, but there was also a socially acquired way in which she shared her opinions. Her intelligence, quick wit, and dry humor had Santana entranced. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd enjoyed talking with a stranger in this way. Santana was drawn to Quinn's energy, and perhaps due to the copious amount of alcohol she'd ingested over the nearly two hours the two had spent talking about anything and everything, she forgot herself and invited the blonde up to her room. Quinn looked surprised, and perhaps a little scandalized.
Santana immediately sobered up, preparing to play off the offer as a joke about needing to go to sleep and not wanting the conversation to end, but then Quinn's expression softens and she agrees without argument.
When Santana woke the following morning, Quinn Fabray, right wing news anchor and talk show host was still fast asleep in her hotel bed, without a single garment of clothing on her body. The brunette quietly gathered her things, zipped her garment bag and suitcase shut as quietly as possible, and silently slipped out of the room. She hardly believed what happened. She contemplated leaving a note with her personal cell number or email address on it, but she figured that might do more harm than good and left to catch her flight back home.