"So, Dave," Santana starts and stirs her coffee. They're at Starbucks, not The Lima Bean, because Santana doesn't want to run into Kurt and Blaine. Something about not wanting Dave to get in a fight with Blaine. Dave had maybe been a little disappointed that he wouldn't chance running into Kurt. "How long have you been crushing on Kurt?"
Dave tenses immediately and glances around the coffee shop. Luckily, it doesn't look like anyone heard her.
"What? I'm not crushing on Hummel. What gave you that idea?" he asks, still a little shaky and worried.
"Since before you started harassing him?" Santana continues like Dave hadn't said anything. "Or did pushing him into lockers give you surprising boners and fantasies about holding him against the wall and having your wicked way with him?"
"I'm not crushing on Hummel," Dave says firmly.
"Yes, you are," Santana says, just as firmly. "I've seen you staring longingly at him. I told you to be more careful with your leering."
"I haven't – I don't stare at –" Dave cuts himself off when Santana lifts an eyebrow, and looks entirely unconvinced. He sighs in defeat and looks at her pleadingly. "Don't tell anyone, okay?"
"Like I'd ever do that," Santana says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And I hardly need to. With the amount of sad heart eyes you've been sending Kurt's way, I'm surprised no one's called you out on it before."
"Shut up, I have not been sending him heart eyes," Dave grumbles.
"Whatever," Santana rolls her eyes and leans forward with a smirk that makes Dave lean back a little. "So. How long?"
Dave shrugs. He doesn't really want to answer her, but when Santana raises an eyebrow again, he sighs and resigns himself to spilling his guts. Maybe it'll be good for him. Maybe he'll actually feel better and less weighed down if he actually gets some of this stuff off his chest. His dad keeps telling him that if there's something that's bothering him, it might go away if he talks to someone about it. And maybe talking with Santana can make him feel less like a loser, more like a human with actual emotions. After all, she's almost in the same boat as him.
"A while. Since the start of the school year, maybe," he says.
"That long?" Santana us clearly surprised. Dave nods. "So when you where pushing him around and threatening to kill him, it was just your weird, screwed up way of pulling pigtails on the playground?"
Dave winces at the mention of the death threat.
"I guess," he admits. "What does pulling pigtails mean?"
"It means you torment the one you like because you don't know how else to express it," Santana explains.
"Well, then… yeah," Dave says. Santana sighs and leans back in her seat. Dave hopes that her curiosity has been sated enough, and he doesn't have to answer any more questions. He can't really figure out if it's actually made him feel better or not. But then she seems to realize something and frowns.
"Did you ever act on your feelings in any other way?" she asks.
It takes a few seconds, but then Dave can almost feel his blood run cold. He freezes and he knows his face goes completely pale. He'll have to tell her. He'll have to actually admit to someone that he kissed Kurt. He kissed Kurt, not the other way around. It'll be the first time he admits to that. It'll be the first time he even tells anyone.
"Uh, well…" he trails off. It's a hard thing to say.
"That's not a no. That's far from a no," Santana says, very obviously suspicious.
"He just… he pushed me," Dave says defensively.
"What the hell does that mean?" Santana asks sharply. Dave sighs and once again resigns himself to spilling his guts.
"I kind of – I didn't mean to – I don't know what…" he trails off and sighs again. Santana now looks kind of impatient, and he lowers his eyes to the coffee cup in front of him. "I kind of… kissed him."
"You kissed him?!" Santana exclaims. Dave winces. "What the hell? Did he want it?"
"I don't think so," Dave mumbles. "I just sort of… took him by surprise, I guess."
"So you basically forced a kiss on him?" Santana asks, and all Dave can do is nod. Santana mumbles something in angry Spanish and throws her napkin at his face. It doesn't hurt, at all, but he winces at the meaning of the gesture. If she had something more solid, like a book, she probably would have thrown that instead. "When the hell was this?"
"November?" Dave says cautiously. Santana's eyes widen and she lashes out at him. Luckily, he manages to avoid her hand before it can connect with the side of his face. "Calm down, you're making a scene!"
"Oh, I'll show you making a scene!" Santana shouts, and true to her words, several people start glancing in their direction. "Why the hell did you that?"
"I don't know!" Dave says, frustrated. "But quiet down, will you?"
"I'll do whatever the hell I want when I'm sitting in front of the guy who assaulted one of my friends," Santana hisses.
"I did not –"
"It was almost sexual assault!" Santana interrupts him, and Dave flinches. He hates to think of the kiss as that. It's not that he treasures it, or thinks of it with rose-tinted glasses or any shit like that. He's got no romantic notions about the kiss. As such. Mostly he doesn't like to think about what he feels towards the kiss. Or towards Kurt. But it's the only kiss he'll ever have with the guy he's currently in love with. He's not sure he'll ever fully regret doing it.
But at least Santana has stopped shouting.
"Aren't you being a little dramatic right now?" Dave asks sullenly.
"Again, I'll do whatever the hell I want," Santana snaps. "Now answer my damn question. Why did you do it?"
"Don't know," Dave mumbles. Maybe if he's vague enough, she won't prod.
She does.
"Don't give me that. You were practically pouring your heart into my lap five minutes ago. Tell me the truth," Santana demands.
"For the same reason I'm sending him pathetic heart eyes like some lovesick pre-teen girl," Dave mumbles. He can feel his face burning with the blush that's spread further than just his cheeks. He's pretty sure it's creeping down his neck, too. "Because I really, really like him, okay? You already know that."
"And the best way you could express that was by pushing him into lockers and then planting one on him without his consent?" Santana snaps.
"Like you said, pulling pigtails," Dave mumbles and takes a long drink of his coffee.
"God, no wonder he was suddenly so miserable," Santana says. "It's one thing to be shoved around like a piece of meat, it's a whole different think to be assaulted like that." Suddenly, she turns steely eyes on Dave. "Was that why you threatened to kill him?"
"I didn't want anyone to know, they'd start pushing me into lockers," Dave says helplessly.
"So you just did what you didn't want people to do to you, to the guy you were crushing on?" it's not so much a question as it's a judgment from Santana.
"Don't start," Dave groans.
"Don't give me lip," Santana snaps.
"Wait," Dave says, frowning, as something suddenly registers in his head. "When you blackmailed me into being your beard, you said you knew the truth about me and Kurt. Did you lie about that?"
He doesn't know why he's so shocked. It's Santana.
"Oh who cares? I'd already figured out you were gay, and I knew something fishy had happened between you and Kurt, I just didn't know the specifics," Santana replies. "I lied, yeah, but I do that a lot. I don't know why you're so surprised. I was just banking on you not being willing to actually talk about whatever happened while we were in public."
"Well, you'd be right about that," Dave comments. "Look, I know it wasn't the smartest thing to do –"
"What, kissing Kurt? No, it wasn't. Understatement of the century," Santana interrupts, all sass and attitude.
"I know it was stupid," David says. "But it wasn't sexual assault. People kiss others without their consent all the time."
"Yeah, but the difference is that they don't usually torment them for months and scream at them before they do that," Santana says. She leans back in her seat and crosses her arms over her chest with a sigh. "You don't do that again, got it? Not to anyone. Doesn't matter how scared you are, you don't kiss someone who's afraid of you, no matter how brave a face they're putting on it."
"I know that, I'm not an idiot," David snaps, and then shrinks back when Santana gives him a warning look.
"Maybe not a complete idiot, no," she mumbles reluctantly.
They sit in silence for a while, drinking coffee, throwing each other looks. The rest of the coffee shop has stopped looking at them, but Santana continues giving Dave glares and distrustful or contemplating looks. Dave himself can't help but look over at Santana warily every now and then.
"So how long do we have to pretend to be dating?" he eventually asks.
"Until there's no point to it anymore," Santana shrugs.
"And how long is that?" Dave presses. Santana raises one delicate eyebrow, looking unimpressed.
"Why? You got someone waiting in the wings?" she asks. "Is there someone you wanna date for real? Aside Kurt, obviously."
Dave can feel heat in his cheeks at the mention of Kurt, and he glares at Santana.
"Stop it," he growls.
"Make me," Santana says with a smirk.
"There's no one, okay?" Dave sighs. "I just wanna know how long I'll be saddled with you."
"A while," Santana replies.
"All of this just so you can win Prom Queen?" Dave mumbles and drains the last of his coffee.
"No, it's more than that. Didn't Finn tell you it's funny you never have a girlfriend when you're so busy calling everyone gay?" Santana asks. When Dave nods, she continues. "Well, now you have a girlfriend. It's gonna take more than what most of the low-lives at school have between their ears to figure out that we're not a real couple. Gay suspicions will evaporate with our alleged make outs and sex romps."
They're quiet for a while. They just sit and Santana drinks her coffee, and they let the silence settle over them. It's not exactly what Dave would call a comfortable silence, but it's not really uncomfortable either. Dave is starting to think that the rest of their "date" will just be like this when he catches Santana staring weirdly at him.
"What?" he asks, both nervous and annoyed. It's a common mix to feel around Santana.
"It must be hard," she says. "Seeing Kurt and Blaine together. Like at the benefit, or when Blaine serenaded him in the courtyard. It must be killing you."
Dave takes a deep breath to calm himself, because Santana is absolutely right.
Watching Kurt show Blaine around at McKinley the night of the benefit had been like a punch in the stomach. They weren't even really doing anything, they didn't touch each other more than the occasional hand on an elbow or shoulder or back, and they kept a decent enough distance between them that they looked like they could just be friends. But they way they'd looked at each other made it obvious. They both had heart eyes, even with Kurt distracted by seeing all of his friends again, sad at not being able to see them more often. Even with that, his eyes made it obvious exactly how smitten he is when he looked at Blaine.
The courtyard serenade when Kurt returned had been like a stab in the heart. It had been exactly the kind of romantic gesture Dave imagine Kurt would love. It was boisterous and out there, without being too much for a public setting. And the heart eyes had been back full blast for both of them. The hug at the end had been the worst though. The way they held each other tight, the way Kurt said something quiet to Blaine. It had been like dragging the knife out of his heart painfully slow.
Dave shakes his head a little to get rid of the memories, and looks up at Santana again. She looks pleased with herself.
"You'd probably know as well as me, what with Brittany and Artie being all lovey-dovey all the time," he says.
The pleased look slides off Santana's face immediately, and she glared at him hard. But there's an incredibly sad look in her eyes, and it makes the glare a lot less effective. It also makes Dave feel a little proud, and a little guilty for feeling proud.
"She made her choice," Santana mumbles and looks down at her coffee cup. When she looks up again, her eyes have steeled over, and she looks every bit the heartless bitch Dave is used to seeing. "Anyway, it's her loss. I can get over it." She drains the last of her coffee and stands up, gesturing for Dave to do the same. "Now come on. Let's go pretend to make out somewhere, so that people won't get I have the hots for Brittany and you have the hots for Kurt."
It's a little funny how Santana never refers to any of her friends by mean nicknames when she's with Dave. She's especially careful to always call Kurt by his first name.
"Fine with me," Dave lies. He knows Santana sees right through it. He doesn't care. "I'm not much of a coffee drinker, anyway."