So, Im kinda fascinated with Santana Lopez. I think there's a lot more to her than meets our screens. I've had this lil ficlet buzzing around my head for a while now. And yes, I realise Valentine's Day was a month ago :)

Hope you enjoy, and nothing belongs to me etc etc

Puck tightened his grip around the basketball in his hands. He liked carrying it around, that way chicks would know he played the game. And being a basketball player is nearly as good as being a football player. And anyway, what chick wouldn't dig a stud with a ball.

He casually glanced around the hallway, ignoring the pink and red hue it was covered in. Until a blur of red fabric and dark skin sprung in front of him.

"Forget something, Puckerman." He didn't even need to check, before knowing who it was. That voice... well, it only brought back good memories. That's all he'd say.

Santana raised an eyebrow when he didn't answer and he paused to think. Nothing came to mind. He even remembered to hand in his English essay that morning. Okay, so maybe he didn't write it. But he remembered to give it in, that's something, right?

"Uh, no?"

She rolled her eyes and readjusted her crossed arms. "The date, maybe?"

"It's the fourteenth."

She nodded, "Of February." As if this was supposed to mean anything to him. All he knew, was it was a helluva long way away from summer break.

"Yeah, so?"

Her eyes widened, before her hands escaped to gesture frantically. "It's Valentine's Day, you jerk."

She was angry, that much he could tell. He wasn't sure why though. It was just a stupid holiday.

"Oh yeah, I was wondering what those loser heart balloons were about?" He laughed.

She didn't. Crossed her arms again, she angled herself slightly away from him. Which kinda just gave him a better view of her butt, but it probably wasn't the best time to bring this up.

"You're my boyfriend. It's called being Romantic." She finally said, her voice bitter.

He stared at her. So yeah, they had been "together" for a while. But he didn't remember her ever using the terms "boyfriend" or "romantic" before. Santana Lopez just wasn't into that stuff.

"Sorry," he deadpanned, "I didn't get the memo we were up to that part."

"Oh come on! We've been having sex for the better part of a year."

This was true, and he tried not to let the smirk in his mind show on his face.

"Yeah, well, why don't you go yell at Brittany then?" He asked and nearly laughed as her head whipped around to see if anyone heard.

Looking back at him, her eyes were considerably less angry, but more hurt and now he was kinda confused. What did she want from him?

Suddenly she opened her book and pulled out a bright pink card, covered in glitter that flew everywhere.

"At least Britt gave me a fucking card!" she said, her voice breaking slightly as she slammed the card against his chest.

She moved to walk past him, but he stopped her. She looked up to meet his eyes and he nearly groaned. Her eyes were wet. Santana never cried. Ever.

"Look," he sighed, "What do you want from me?"

She shook her, trying to shake the tears out. "I want someone to give a damn."

She grabbed the card out of her hand, and stormed off down the hallway. He hadn't even had a chance to read it, but he could imagine what it said; Brittany still dotted her Is with tiny hearts.

He watched her nearly break into a run, trying to get away from him. Her cheerio's skirt moved with her and his thoughts were somewhere between ThankGodthatskirtissoshort and Shit.