Another one-shot I wrote to get my writing going again, with a crackship that I invented.

Paigetana ftw~

Paige knew moving was for the best. Hell, she'd been wanting it ever since looking at Emily Fields started lighting her body on fire, a pain that reverberated within her and one she couldn't escape from, whatever she tried. It took a while before she figured out the meaning behind it, but even when she did—no, becauseshe did she wanted it even more. Being a lesbian wasn't an option, and if she got away from Emily, maybe it would get better. She wanted to get far away from Rosewood.

However, she'd felt what it was like to be with Emily. To have this beautiful girl all to herself, cause the smile on her lips and the twinkle in her eyes. She might have ruined their relationship by being too much of a coward, but she could change. Right?

It was too late. They were moving.

—

Lima, Ohio is a ten hour drive from Rosewood, Pennsylvania and the difference was… surprisingly non-existent. Paige had needed two days to find her way around town, on her bike, often ending up in a place she'd already been when she'd tried to discover unexplored streets and round new corners. She'd inventoried the buildings of Lima; high school, mall, coffee shop, gay bar, nursing home. That was all there was in this town, pretty much.

The only thing she thought Rosewood didn't have from that list was the gay bar, but then again, Paige hadn't exactly been looking for one. Coming out was a reality she hoped would never happen. Would never be necessary, too.

It was an early Monday morning when she first saw her. Seeing was already too big of a word though. She caught a glimpse. A glimpse that would define the rest of her life.

—

Her hands are wrapped loosely around the handles of her bike as she sets journey to the bakery she knows is nearby. She wants the distraction, she does as much as she can to help her parents so she has something to focus on until she gets to go to school again. If getting distracted means hopping on her bike at six thirty in the morning to get sandwiches, then Paige'll gladly do so without whining.

The streets are pretty desolate, which she figures isn't that weird for the time of the day. Only for early swim practices she ever got up that early, and off season the earliest she woke up to go to school was seven thirty – a good hour more of sleep than she's gotten today.

But she doesn't mind.

Her thoughts stray from the bakery order she needs to remember. Would there be a swimming team at McKinley High? Would she, if there is one, try out for it? Swimming's the thing that's kept her sane for all those years now and—

It's then that she sees her. Her. A flash of tan skin and dark hair that reminds her of the girl she's left behind in Rosewood more than anything else can. All she sees are toned legs and a sports outfit, and a ponytail that sways from side to side.

Before she can get her to turn around, she's ducked into the forest to follow a jog route.

She tries not to let her mind go to that place. It can't be Emily. But she can't stop herself from thinking, fromhoping that it's Emily. That she meant enough to the girl to make her trek down the ten hours and visit her, beg her to return.

She knows those thoughts are ridiculous so she throws them away as far as she can in a frustrated groan, and tries desperately to remember how many sandwiches her father wanted her to get.

—

Paige was for two weeks in Lima before everything finally got sorted out with her school. William McKinley High School had some pretty nice buildings and the clubs and extra-curriculars seemed nice by the looks of it, but it was led by a doofus of proportions. Paige had only met him once, principal Figgins, but she couldn't say he'd left a particularly good impression.

That's why it took so long. Two weeks.

After all the painting work had been done, new furniture had been both bought and successfully put together and all boxes had been unpacked… there wasn't much stuff left to get her distracted.

And it's not like the public pool offered her much of a way to spend free time either, it was always crowded with people. Even during the day when she thought most people had to be at work or in school. There were always a bunch of mothers with their young children or old, retired people occupying parts of the pool, scattered enough to cover bits of every lane.

It was frustrating.

It had been two weeks without a consistent daily routine and time to practice her strokes and on top of that, she kept catching glances of the person that looked like Emily. At first she'd always shrugged it off, thinking that it had to be a figment of her imagination. But could her mind even create someone as absurdly beautiful as Emily, or in this case her look-a-like? Paige had started believing in God the moment she'd laid eyes on Emily because there had to be some kind of divine intervention in Emily's making.

She'd tried to her very best ability to keep her thoughts away from it all but after the fourth time she couldn't deny any longer that this person was real. And it wasn't Emily, which she made sure of by going to Emily's Facebook. Just to be really sure she'd spent her entire evening going through all her status updates and uploaded pictures… Research matter, of course.

Who was she trying to kid?

Either way, she knew now that this person was real, and that however much she tried to not let it happen, she was curious. Intrigued. And she wanted to find her.

She'd not expected to find her first thing as she entered her new school.

—

Leaving the house that morning, Paige is rather excited for the day to come. She can finally go to school, and she's never been really fond of going to school in and on itself, but now it's an amazing thing. She doesn't know anyone in this town yet, except for maybe Finn Hudson and Noah Puckerman, because they were cool when she came to Sheets 'n Things three times in one day because her parents kept sending her for stuff. It was a little embarrassing, but they told her it was nothing to worry about, and they gladly helped her find what she needed while entertaining her. They aren't exactly her type of crowd, but she'll take knowing them over knowing no one.

She's curious to see what other people this town had to offer though.

Her loyal bike can't miss on her first day and she seems to be the only one. Students seep from the parking lot and out of the school bus and file into the hallways. She's a little taken aback, because for a small town the high school seems to have a rather large student body. Then she shrugs it off, because why should quantity hold her back?

She flings her bag over her shoulder and hops up the stairs. The hallway is welcoming, lockers line the walls and from both her sides there are people watching her. She just grins as she starts walking forward, towards the student secretary.

The next thing she knows is an "OH MY GOD" screeched, and it takes her two seconds to realize it's her own voice, and ice cold liquid is dripping down her temples. Blinking hurts and the smell of raspberry invades her senses.

"Welcome to McKinley, Butch."

Paige is furious. Her thoughts are little 'what the hell' and 'who the fuck' and a string of curses but she's frozen in shock in the spot and her mouth is agape. Whatever 'deflowering' in this school she expected, it wasn't an icey drink tossed into her face.

She wipes the sticky stuff out of her eyes and needs to blink a few times.

It's the girl.

The one she's been thinking about so frequently. Tan, dark eyes, dark hair. Her curves are wrapped in a cheerleading uniform and the smirk on her face only grows when she notices her victim is now close to checking her out. The cup in her hand is carelessly tossed to the side.

"I'll see you around."

The girl and her posey leave, skirts whipping her as they walk around her, and Paige only starts moving when she feels two pairs of gentle hands on her forearms tugging her towards the bathroom.

She learns their names – Kurt Hummel, Rachel Berry – and her name – Santana Lopez – and she hears about the habit of slushy throwing.

But all she can think about is how much the humiliation hurts and how much colder it feels than the drink itself.

—

The next time Santana tried to slushy her Paige was prepared and pushed her into a locker. She would set herself apart from the popular people even more, because even though everyone seemed to dream about punching Santana in the face or strangle her with the hideous extensions she sported, no one actually would try to do so. It was social suicide. Not a sane soul wanted to be associated with Paige McCullers.

Before she'd met Santana she'd wanted nothing more than to get to know her, now she had Paige wished she'd never been fascinated by her in the first place.

It hurt knowing that they were pretty alike. She'd tormented Emily, she'd nearly drowned her. If this was karma, than she sure as hell was a stone cold bitch that deserved a punch in the womb.

—

"She's in your glee club?" Paige asks Rachel one time when they're having lunch together. Some other glee club members are sitting close to them as well, but they're all engaged in a discussion about video games. She would join in, but Rachel would be the only one excluded from the conversation and Paige doesn't want her to feel left out. She knows the feeling all too well.

"She's an amazing singer, actually," Rachel sighs, playing with one of her baby carrots, "but we all know she's only part of the glee club because Sue asked her to. I can't believe Schuester lets them, it's obvious they're there to spie on us. It's despicable."

Paige lets Rachel ramble on, knowing better than to try and come between her. She nods every now and again, doesn't speak up when the conversation shifts to Rachel and her solos, and her eyes find Santana in the crowd in the cafeteria.

Part of her doesn't believe Santana's only in the glee club for Sue, and she hates herself for how her subconscious gets defensive over the girl.

It's because she looks like Emily. That has to be the only reason.

—

Whenever they crossed paths, something happened. They had heated arguments in every class they had together; both of them were head-strong and stubborn and Paige wasn't going to let Santana win when she knew she was right. They had cat fights, nasty ones, that ended in slaps in the face and throwing each other into lockers and visits to the principal's office.

Soon they became arch enemies of sorts. Paige couldn't even recall when exactly it had gotten so out of hand but now just seeing Santana made her hair stand on end and a cold chill run down her spine. She had been pretty hostile back at Rosewood High, but she'd figured she could start over here in Lima.

Santana had made it impossible for Paige to keep her anger issues in check.

—

"Everyone knows she has something on the side with Brittany," Rachel says. She has her arm hooked into one of Paige's, and on the other side Kurt is hooked into her too.

The fabulous boy shakes his head and laughs. "On the side. She has the guys on the side. She cheats on every single one of her boyfriends with her. You don't want to hear the stories I hear during Cheerios practice."

But Rachel does and she keeps on begging until Kurt spits out all the juicy details he's been wanting to tell his best friend, despite Paige being there too. She's not that attentive anyway, her mind processing this news.

Does she have more in common with Santana than she thinks? She doesn't want to consider the possibility, because she loathes the girl, but the thought is already wriggling its way into her mind.

—

Paige didn't realize that her dreams about Emily changed into dreams about Santana until one morning she woke up whimpering Santana's name, her body covered in sweat and her skin tingling where dream!Santana had touched her.

She felt disgusting.

—

Paige lays curled up in bed, her phone on speaker. She didn't want to, she's been pushing this moment since it first crossed her mind that she could, she's been trying to ignore the part of her that craves for her voice and eventually she caves and calls Emily.

"How are you?" she asks once they're past the somewhat awkward greeting and Paige releases a sigh that speaks more words than she'd probably be able to use trying to explain how she feels, because she doesn't know. She doesn't know how she feels, not really. There's too much she's feeling at the same time.

"I'm not too shabby." And it's a lie because she feels miserable and she knows that Emily probably hears it, but for some reason she doesn't push and Paige is grateful. "You?"

"I'm really good. I've been sort of busy lately, but I still-" There's a giggle in the background, one that isn't Emily's and it takes Paige's breath away.

Not in the good way.

"Maya, don't," Emily giggles; Paige hears it even though the mouth piece of Emily's phone is covered, and Paige stops the call because she's getting nauseous.

It's rude to hang up like that but Paige is running for the bathroom and she doesn't want Emily to hear how sick it made her.

As her eyes tear up and she feels bile rise in her throat she questions if she's this sick because Emily moved on or because she tried to cling to her feelings for Emily to ignore the ones that've been growing quickly for her look-a-like.

—

Paige knew only one bar around, so on the birthday of her half year of being in Lima she headed over to Scandals for some much-needed shots of vodka. She'd done a lot of rough things in her life. Living in Lima with an arch nemesis and dorks for friends took the cake of all hard things though. She missed competitive swimming, and Emily, and her friends.

She let the thoughts rush into her mind. The flashbacks. She'd been trying to deny her attraction to Santana for as long as she could remember, but she couldn't anymore. It had become so much more than just a simple attraction and it was wearing her down.

The bartender set another shot in front of her and she threw it back in her throat, shuddering at the burning sensation in her throat. Through teary eyes she looked around and her mind processed the change before her eyes saw it.

Someone sat next to her.

And it was Santana.

She slapped her before she realized she wanted it. But she did. God, she did. It had been a while since they'd last been in a fight. Hell, they were October, two months into their junior year and they had yet to be called into the principal's office for the first time that school year. The tension the thoughts had brought along didn't disappear because of hitting her though.

Santana clenched her jaws but didn't do anything. She didn't seem her usual self. It looked like she'd been crying not too long ago, and she'd been drinking. Her eyes weren't as sharp as usual, and she was swaying a little bit on top of her stool.

Paige wanted to say something, anything, but the sound was swallowed by full lips pressed to her own.

Oh.

Santana kissed her and Paige let her. She tasted like ash, booze and sadness and their tongues moved together to combine their flavors of misery. Paige's hand tangled in Santana's hair, pulling it out of the ponytail it was in.

Their breaths mingled when they pulled apart for just a few inches.

"My place is nearby."

Paige just nodded, getting what Santana meant. She couldn't remember anything, not that she hated Santana, not that she didn't want anyone to know, not that she didn't want to act on her lesbian urges. All she could remember was the kiss a few seconds ago, one that had made her crumble into a pulsing body filled with desire. A strong attraction she'd been trying to keep behind lock and key for months.

They stumbled out of the bar and their hands laced easily together, a gesture much more romantic than appropriate, and Santana pressed her into a wall half a street down to attach her lips to Paige's neck.

Paige's hands moved over the back of Santana's dress and her nails scratched gently over her shoulders, making the girl that leaned into her shiver.

They reached Santana's house, but for the love of God Paige wouldn't be able to tell anyone how they'd gotten there. When the door clicked shut behind them she had Santana backed into a corner and she was ravishing her neck, dragging her tongue down the column of her neck.

Santana pulled her up the stairs and pushed her onto her bed and Paige twitched in anticipation, her body growing even hotter as Santana's body hovered over hers.

But when Santana growled lowly, pulling off Paige's shirt roughly she realized something – she wasn't going to let Santana win this, like she had tried to keep her from winning anything that year.

Paige crashed her mouth against Santana's, biting down on the full bottom lip that tasted heavenly and hell-like at the same time until she drew blood. The metallic taste she lapped up with her tongue satisfied a hunger for justice.

But Santana had other plans. She tore open Paige's blouse, not caring about the buttons that now rolled over her bedroom floor, and bit down in her shoulder. Paige whimpered softly, pushing the other girl off of her.

"For all those times you pushed back," Santana continued, unzipping her dress and shrugging it off her perfect body – because damn, it really was – before crawling over to where Paige lay on the bed, nibbling on her earlobe. "For all those times you should've kept your damn mouth and not made a smart-ass comment."

Paige lost it when Santana's hand snaked in her jeans and pressed into her wet core through her panties. The noises she made couldn't possibly be human.

"You're a bitch," Paige groaned, her hips pushing into her hand as her own hand swiftly unclasped Santana's bra. "I wanted to teach you a damn lesson. I wasn't going to let you just step over me." She groped one of Santana's breasts, squeezing it hard, before moving her hand down and raking her nails over her abs. "Two can play that damn game."

Santana laughed hollow, unbuttoning Paige's pants and pushing her down her thighs, gripping roughly into Paige's pale flesh. "You're annoying."

"You're unbearable."

"God, you're hot."

Their hips clashed in a friction that made them both moan shakily. Paige grinned for just a split second when she realized she was on top before everything else caught up with her, the way their cores grinded together and the pleasure that coursed through her and her skin was crawling and aching and the little hairs all stood up and it was overwhelming.

She clenched her hands around Santana's hips to keep her steady, her fingertips digging hard enough into her skin to leave marks, and Santana scratched over her back to make it go faster.

Their orgasms were explosive, they both shook and screamed and tried to catch their breaths because their lungs churned in need for oxygen but they couldn't. They tensed up completely before waves of pleasure racked them to the core.

Paige climbed off Santana reluctantly, trembling on her legs.

She couldn't stay. She couldn't regret what they'd done, because she'd never felt this good before, but she knew she couldn't. She was too proud to give into her feelings for Santana.

But Santana thought differently. Before Paige could reach the piece of clothing the nearest by Santana had pulled her back on the bed and pinned her into the mattress.

"You're not leaving," she growled, biting along her jaw before moving down her body. She nipped the insides of her thighs and drowned in the musky smell of Paige's arousal and dove in before Paige was ready, making her hips jerk frantically.

Santana ate her out like it was the best thing she'd ever had, with slurping noises and her nails digging in her ass cheeks to make her move more, ride her face. Paige's toes curled and her hands fisted in Santana's hair and she just needed Santana closer than she already was. The heat kept building within her until it felt like she exploded all over again, parts of her attaching to Santana's soul – if she even had one.

"Good girl," Santana said teasingly, and for a moment Paige was taken aback. Santana's mouth and cheeks were glistening. With her juices. It was enough to make her clit throb again. But she wanted to pound the attitude out of the Latina, show her that two orgasms meant nothing. She could do that, too.

"Fuck you," Paige muttered, glaring at Santana before she flipped their positions. Her body was sensitive and a bit jittery but she could show Santana damn well what she was made of. Before she could protest she pushed in two fingers. "So wet," she said, smirking before she set a pace that drove Santana crazy, one that varied between fast and slow and hit all the right places in all the wrong ways until Paige broke her.

The "Paige, please," took her completely off-guard and she stared at Santana in awe as she let her orgasm. She hadn't taken any time to look at her, too busy being rough, but now she did. And Santana was beautiful. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her mouth was open just a little, enough to let out a stream of moans and insults and Spanish words all mixed into one. Her chest heaved and she only now saw what she'd done to her; her eyes took in every scratch and nick and bite mark, lingered on the purple fingerprints on her hips.

Santana was the canvas to an art work of their passion and she knew the same could be said about her own body without looking down at it.

When she was pulled back on the bed this time it was a lot more gentle and as she nestled in the pillows Santana inched closer, setting her head against Paige's collar bone. The silence was heavy with the sex of smell and the tensions that had left their bodies the moment their desires had clashed. Paige didn't know what to say, but she didn't want to say anything to begin with. Breaking the silence would break the moment.

She didn't notice she was falling asleep until a split second before her body gave out on her, when she realized that she didn't want to be in any place more than in the place she was now, with Santana in her arms, more vulnerable and beautiful than she'd ever seen her.

—

It was ultimately the differences with Emily that got Paige hooked on Santana, rather than the similarities. And then to imagine that she'd cried on the way to Lima because she'd thought she was going to die without Emily.

If a few scratches and bites was dying then she'd gladly sign up for hell with Santana.