Fandom. FinnSantana
Disclaimer: Glee © Fox/Ryan Murphy
I'm With You
By sakuracherish814
First of all: yes, she did in fact work at Starbucks, but that's only because her aunt was a branch manager and one could always use the extra money. With school, glee, and Cheerios, she rarely had time, and you would have figured she wouldn't dare work during the holidays.
Yet there she was the afternoon of Christmas Eve, absently wiping the same spot on the countertop with a rag.
The only other company she had aside from her aunt (who wasn't even there since she just stepped out for some cigarettes across the street) was the other barista (a college girl that hadn't stopped yapping into her phone since she picked it up half an hour ago) and an elderly couple that ordered tea and a hot chocolate and committed themselves to a table in the corner.
Why the hell had she even agreed to help her aunt, anyway?
Oh, yeah. She was alone.
She, Brittany, and Quinn had spent every Christmas Eve together since they'd met each other during middle school at a cheerleading summer camp.
When Quinn began dating Finn in eighth grade it just left her and Britt, which wasn't bad at all. Then junior year came along, and Brittany began dating Artie, and Quinn was with Sam, so they were spending this Christmas Eve with their significant other.
With her alone.
Not that she cared, of course, because she didn't.
And she wasn't jealous of them, either. She was happy and all that shit that they were in love.
If it was one thing that Santana Lopez did not do, it was envy others. Others envied her. She didn't even blink an eye at the fact that she was alone.
Whatever.
The front door chimed and she looked up, her eyes falling upon the face she least expected (okay, well, maybe not least, but not the most either) to have seen. "Finn?"
Said boy stopped his stride a few steps from the counter and looked up from the floor, staring at her. He blinked once and kept staring blankly, as if he was just waking up from a daze and wasn't quite there yet. When her eyes narrowed and her hand twitched like she wanted to slap him, he finally said, "Santana," all surprised and whatnot, crossing the small distance to her register. "Hey."
She tried to ignore the way the barista whispered that "a cute-ass guy just walked through the door." She would pay for that later.
"I didn't know you worked here," he said, his eyes falling on her nametag and green apron.
"Not regularly, but my aunt apparently needed my help." Despite her slight intrigue at his being here, she kept her voice at a slight drawl. "Why? Is there a problem with that?"
"No, no, I was just saying," he stammered quickly. (She smirked at the fact that she could still make him squirm so easily.) "But, I mean, you know, it's a job. So you get, like, paid and stuff. That's cool." He gulped a little and cleared his throat nervously.
She chuckled. "What are you doing here?"
"I, um," he looked back down, "had some free time and thought I'd get some coffee."
"Alone on Christmas Eve? Oh, that's right," she tilted her head slightly, "you're no longer being anchored down by the dwarf."
"Santana." His tone was warning.
She rolled her eyes and uncrossed her arms. "Whatever." She exhaled. "So what can I get you?"
"Huh? Oh." He knitted his eyebrows together and looked over her head at the menu. "Aw, damn. I forgot that this was the place with the messed up sizes."
She arched an eyebrow and let out a laugh. What? You couldn't really blame her, with that seriously stumped look on his face.
"Oh, it's not really that hard," College Girl said sweetly.
Santana glared at her. "I got it."
She shot Santana a look before returning to whoever was on the other end of her line. Santana shook her head and looked back at Finn, smiling at his deepening frown.
He laughed nervously again, his mouth twitching into a grin, the same one he'd given her when he was trying (failing) to tie his tie at his mother's wedding. "My mom usually orders whenever we come here," he offered despite the fact she hadn't asked. Somehow, this made her smile a little wider. It all added to his helpless-puppy-ness.
"You can order regularly, you know," she informed. "I'll know what you're asking."
"No, no," he said. "I want to get the hang of it." The determination in his voice sounded so childish. It was quite amusing, if not adorable. (Not that she'd ever admit to it.)
"This ought to be good."
He grinned. "Okay, so, grande is pretty much a large, right?"
She shook her head, tapping the medium-sized stack of cups beside her. "Grande is a medium. Venti is a large."
"Oh." She swore she saw him blush. "Er, sorry. So, can I have a venti muffin?"
She laughed. Like, actually laughed, not in the evil, snarky way like he was used to, but a wholehearted laugh, with her head tipped back and her cheeks flushed and everything. He found it cute.
"The sizes are for the drinks, Frankenteen." She pointed to the pastries behind the glass on the other side of her register. "The food is all the same size."
"Oh," he repeated. He looked contemplative for a moment. "Maybe I should let you choose?"
She smiled and grabbed a venti cup, scribbling on the side out of force of habit before she realized there was no one else. "Peppermint white mocha. Ever tried it?" He shook his head and she smirked. "Of course not. It's good, trust me." She entered the price into the register. "So, Finnocence, that's one venti peppermint white mocha latte, with whip cream, of course."
"And a muffin."
She laughed. Probably harder than necessary. "And a muffin."
He slipped her a $10 and told her to keep the change. (Maybe he wasn't such a dunce after all.)
When she went to make the drink, she saw College Girl shooting her a look. Sure, they may have had nothing in common, and sure, she wanted to strangle her that minute, but girls knew each other's expressions, and the look College Girl was giving her was asking if she had something going on with Finn and, if so, she wanted the details.
She just rolled her eyes.
Once she was done, she grabbed a chocolate muffin with a napkin and walked over to the table he'd chosen.
He didn't even question why she was joining him. In fact, when he saw her walking his way, his face lit up like a freaking city at night and she tried to ignore how it made her feel good.
"Lose the grin, Hudson. I'm just here so I can steal some of your drink and because I'm bored."
He smiled wider.
They sat at that table for two and a half hours, just talking nonstop.
The only time they are interrupted is when her aunt returned and forced her to introduce him ("It's not that big of a deal, it's just Finn, now can you go?"), but otherwise, they forget that they're part of an outside world. They talk about random stuff: songs they want to sing in glee, some fond memories, inside jokes, petty school rumors, practices, his love (obsession) of video games.
She tore another piece of the muffin and popped it into her mouth, brushing the crumbs from her fingers. "It's not an obsession," he protested.
"Finn, you don't know how to stop."
"I do, too," he retorted childishly, "I just choose not to. It's fun. You should come over and try it sometime."
She smirked.
"I—" He gulped. "Just to play games," he rushed. She smirked a little wider. "Maybe not tonight, it being Christmas Eve and all."
She put her chin in her hand and crossed one leg over her other. "But you're alone aren't you? I mean, your mom's with Burt, Kurt is probably out, and you—" She didn't finish. He was glad she didn't.
He cleared his throat and shrugged one shoulder. "I guess. I mean, it isn't so bad. And I'm…" He trailed off.
"You're what?" she questioned. He hesitated. "Spit it out, Finn."
"I'm with you."
He smiled at her triumphantly, childishly, and she scoffed and shoved another piece of muffin in her mouth to hide her smile. He laughed a little. She wondered if maybe he was onto her, which would be impossible, it was Finn here, but still. But he just brought the drink up to his lips and said nothing.
As he set the drink back down, she laughed. Some whip cream still lingered on the corner of his lips. But of course he didn't notice this. He just stared at her and her growing smile with his blank expression. She just shook her head and shifted in her seat, leaning over the table to wipe the offending cream away with her thumb. He blinked, his jaw parting absently, and stared at her.
She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling herself closer and licking his lips lightly.
"Are you saying that you like spending Christmas Eve with me?"
He groaned. "Yeah."
He crashed his lips to hers in a heady kiss, one hand on her neck and the other through her hair, pulling her closer.
She pushed the table aside slightly and straddled his waist with her legs as best she could with the chair in the way, not really caring that her aunt, College Girl, and the elderly couple were also witnessing this.
Because it didn't mean anything.
She pulled apart, panting, and pressed her forehead to his. In her peripheral vision, she caught sight of the elderly couple smiling at them, laughing, their hands laced on the table between them. When they had first walked in, she questioned why anyone would want to be out in some coffeehouse on Christmas Eve, even an old pair like them.
But it wasn't so much where you were.
It was who you were with.
"Finn," she whispered, and he looked at her in surprise, because she never liked to talk during. "It meant something to me."
And she didn't even have to explain herself because he already understood. "Yeah," he murmured in agreement, sweeping her hair over her shoulder. "It meant something to me, even more now."
She laughed and recaptured his lips.
(She kind of liked spending Christmas Eve with him, too.)
A/n. Probably too fluffy for this particular pairing, but it's the holidays and I couldn't really help myself!
(I am literally about to fall asleep as I am writing this, so please excuse any errors until I can properly edit this when I am more awake later.)
So you read it. Love it? Hate it? Please review it!