"Well it looks like we'll be spending a lot more time together," Santana said, leaning back on the couch. "It doesn't mean I have to talk to you or anything, does it?" She pulled the bag of chips closer to her and started popping them in her mouth.
"Can you… can you tell people we had sex?" Dave said.
"Sure." She shrugged and swiped the remote from him. "I mean, they already think I did right?" she snickered. "Though, honestly, the thought of your hairy body touching mine…" She scrunched up her nose. "Let's just say… it really solidifies my sexuality."
"Are we gonna talk about that at all, or…." Dave looked at his hands.
"Talk about what." She said, her eyes shooting daggers. "The fact that you wish that you were in my shoes, sleeping around with every guy in the school? Or what, the fact that you don't seem to have any food in this house that won't shorten my lifespan."
"Look." He said, clenching his jaw. "You're blackmailing me into hanging out with you. I don't want to turn it around, but I've got something on you that you don't want anyone else to know." Santana shifted awkwardly on the couch. "So don't go pretending like this is a one way street. You have people that you can talk to, you just choose to be mad at them. I… I have no one."
"Exactly." Santana said. "That's why I've got the upper hand. Because you have no one else."
Dave frowned, looking at her exasperatedly. "Do you know just how much torture that is? I mean—the one guy I turn to for help up and ditches me—"
"Wait, you asked Kurt for help?" Santana raised an eyebrow and leaned towards him. "And he didn't help you?" Dave rolled his eyes and leaned against the couch, a flush raising to his face.
"Well…" Dave clenched his jaw and bit his lip. "No, I didn't really… use my words."
"So if you didn't use your mouth, what part of the body did you use?" Santana said sarcastically.
"I didn't say I didn't use my mouth…" Dave murmured. Santana's confused frown turned into a wide-eyed chuckle of glee.
"You kissed him. You kissed Hummel, and you expected him to be all forgiving and crap—"
"Well what was I supposed to do?" Dave said defensively.
"Uh, I don't know, use the English Language?" She cackled. "Did he leave the day after or did it take hours?"
"Weeks." He murmured. "I was really scared that he was going to tell someone. I mean, he told his boyfriend about it, and he was really pissed at me, I don't know I just…" Dave bit his lip and flopped down on the couch. Everything was silent for a very long time. Santana watched as Dave's eyes grew glassy as he became hypnotized by the television. He didn't care what was on it, just that it existed.
"Wouldn't it be easier just to kill myself?" He whispered after a while. It didn't even sound like he meant for Santana to hear it. "Less people would hate me. Less people would stop using me."
"Hey, I'm not—" Santana muttered.
"You are." Dave turned to her. "You don't give two shits about what's going on with me. I have no friends. My parents will hate me. I'm fucking up everything and all you want is your goddamn prom queen title." Dave said, tossing the remote. "No one cares about me! No one cares about me, and you think that I'm going to be willing to keep both of our secrets just so you can get the girl and ride off into the sunset? What happens after that? I can't change, I'll go back to shoving people, and I can't accept myself."
"I'm doing it for you too." Santana said, pursing her lips. "I mean… I wasn't up until a few minutes ago when you started talking about suicide, but this can easily be turned around to be an advantage for you."
"Oh, and how is that?"
"You've got me." Santana said. "You can now approach Kurt at your leisure. You want to talk to him in private, go ahead. You want to actually apologize to him for doing what you did, then go ahead."
"You are so dumb." Dave scoffed. "That's never going to work."
"You can join the glee club." Santana said softly. "You can join glee."
"I'm not going to join your stupid club—"
"Really?" Santana stood up. "Because that stupid club of mine are the only friends that I have. They are the only friends that will actually be there if I decide to come out and be public with who I am. They could be the same with you, if you just let them."
"Really? Because everyone seemed to gag at the sight of me. NO ONE LIKES ME." He boomed, standing up. "The only people who seem to like me are the jocks who hate everyone else."
"They will only accept you if you tell them the truth. They'd even keep the secret if you asked them to. If you really just put faith in this club… you could find a world of experiences that you'd never have if you didn't join them." Santana shrugged. "You may even be dead, or even worse, married with children and a pool boy." Dave licked his lips. "I can't. I really can't."
"Not yet, you can't." Santana said, smiling softly. "I'm sorry I used you. I'm sorry that I'm going to continue using you until you either come out to yourself or I win Prom Queen."
Dave looked down at his hands. "I guess."