Santana was never close with Kurt when they went to the same school. Even when he was a Cheerio she'd gone out of her way to make fun of him more than actually talk to him. Then he'd suddenly transferred and she missed him being there for her to needle at. Even if his reactions this year hadn't been half as feisty or amusing as they had the previous year, no one was quite as prickly as him. With him gone she'd ended up opening up Rachel-gate. Which had seemed like a really good idea before she realised it was going to make Rachel even more annoying than usual. But she figured that the other girl couldn't keep up the sustained level of irritating for a huge amount of time. The new way people looked at her in the halls now that they knew she'd popped the cherry of one Finn Hudson would last much longer.
Santana liked people looking at her like she was something special. She'd gotten it a little of it the previous year, just by being high up in the cheerleader hierarchy, and known to be fairly promiscuous. But the thing was… Quinn always got more. First for being Little-Miss-Blonde-White-Middle-Class-Christian-Head-Cheerleader-Perfect. Then for being the Fallen Princess, wracked with scandal and woe. It made Santana sick to her stomach – especially when all the woe was about her most unfortunate pregnancy. But that was neither here nor there. The point was; this was supposed to be her year. Quinn was going to have to work her way up from the bottom of the heap again while Santana lounged at the top with no real competition. She'd be unequivocally the Head Bitch of the school. Except before she could sneeze Coach Sylvester had put the blonde girl back as Head Cheerleader. But Santana refused to be regulated back to Supporting Bitch.
When Quinn took it upon herself to 'confirm' Santana's 'boob job' it was the final straw. She and Quinn probably never had been actual friends, but all pretence had dissolved. So maybe people parted like the Red Sea when Quinn walked down the halls. She'd take refuge in the fact that she knew Quinn avoided her because Little Miss Perfect knew she wouldn't step aside. And when Quinn and her little blond boyfriend got picked to open their Sectional with the Romantic Duet portion of the evening, Santana was perfectly happy with her solo. And as much as she liked glee club, it was fairly satisfying to see the range of shocked expressions on the faces of New Direction's when Kurt's new club took the stage. Though, well they did have a group of attractive boys in uniform, their dancing left a lot to be desired. And that was coming from someone who had to deal with Finn every week.
Santana had to agree with Lauren when she said "Best. Green Room. Ever." She almost didn't want to leave, but when they moved into the warm-up area, the Warblers were still around. So while Brittany stretched, and Lauren did push-ups, and Rachel resolutely sang angry scales in the corner, Santana followed Mercedes over to where Kurt was standing with the male lead (who Santana had to admit was cute, if short as fuck). Kurt gave her one of his famous Looks when she joined the circle, and part of her rejoiced that – despite how young and stilted he'd looked onstage – he was at least starting to get a little of his fight back. Cute-short-soloist gave Santana a once over with a raised eyebrow when Kurt introduced her, and she wondered what he'd been told already.
Then somehow, in the excitement of the reunion of Kurt and Mercedes (and Cute-short-soloist whose name was Blaine, who had apparently met Mercedes before), she got sidelined, standing next to a black dude who held out his hand an introduced himself as David. She ignored the hand, glancing him up and down. Long legs, alright physique (as far as she could tell through the uniform) and a nice face. She held back a snicker, instead smiling a little at him.
"Santana." She looked back at Kurt, who was busy being the recipient of one of the most love-struck gazes she had ever seen. "So Kurt must be enjoying it in Gay Heaven." The guy withdrew his hand and, to Santana's mild surprise, looked amused.
"You know just because we're an all boys school doesn't mean we're all gay." Santana snorted, and continued to gaze at Kurt's admirer.
"Whatever you say." Kurt – who had looked over at some point when David was speaking, cocked an annoyingly superior eyebrow at her.
"He has a girlfriend, Santana. Just because you think things doesn't mean they're true." Santana looked up at the taller guy, who was studying her, and still had an amused look on his face.
"Does she live in Canada? Because if he's a closet case you probably have your work cut out for you." Blaine was looking at her like she'd been kicking puppies, and Kurt was giving her the scathing glare he reserved for right before his most impassioned tirades, when a stiff looking Asian Warbler called out that they needed to head to the audience if they wanted to be able to see New Direction's perform. So Kurt simply sniffed, and strutted off, closely followed by Blaine, who managed to give her an attempt at a polite smile on the way. Santana studied the Asian kid, who was apparently making sure all the Warblers were gone before he left himself. "He's wound tight." David, who was still standing beside her, chuckled.
"Maybe he's repressed. Nice to meet you, Santana." And with that he walked out. Santana smiled a little at his retreating back. He had a nice ass.
So she sang her little backing vocal 'for the group' parts, and if, during her solo, she looked over at the navy-and-red section of the stands a little too much that was just coincidence. All things considered, the performance went well. Considering that when they were standing waiting for the verdict Santana could still feel the waves of hate that were still coming off Rachel. And that Quinn was still looking annoyingly relieved that a baby hadn't magically popped out of her vagina. And that Mercedes still appeared to be fuming as if not getting a solo was actually going to kill her.
She almost burst out laughing when the tie was called. It was too perfect. Asian Wound-Too-Tightly Warbler looked completely scandalized for a moment, before reining his expression in. Kurt's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. Blaine went to shake hands with Mr. Schue, gentleman that he apparently was. The aborted Rachel/Finn hug was almost too much for Santana to handle. Both the Warblers and New Directions seemed confused about whether or not they should be disappointed or excited. They mingled together as they headed off the stage, milling into the green room for lack of a better place to go. Brittany grabbed Santana's hand and pulled her into a corner, but before she could say anything they were both distracted by David standing on a chair.
"So the Warbler's were planning on celebrating if we won, and it is my opinion" Santana swore his eyes flickered to her, "that we include our fellow winners in our celebration!" He couldn't really gesture to a particular group, since they hadn't yet segregated themselves, but he gestured and a couple of the New Direction's guys cheered. Then there were directions being given, and Kurt and Mercedes attaching themselves to each other just like they had at McKinley, and Mr. Schue looking confused at the lack of carnage. And David, still standing on a chair, looking directly at Santana.
Maybe no one else really thought about the fact that they were private school boys, but Santana seemed to be the only New Directions member not surprised when 'celebrating' was going to a nearby diner and ordering cheese fries and cokes. Both show choirs kind of segregated themselves, New Directions around one end of the table, the Warblers around the other. Except Kurt, who stepped daintily into the middle of his old show choir, and Blaine, who Santana was beginning to think would follow Kurt into a volcano. She chose to sit beside the invisible line of segregation. A navy and red blazer sat himself opposite her, and she looked up see David, who glanced at her with a quick smile, before continuing in his conversation with the Asian guy. Only to be interrupted by the ever charming Puck, who piped up from the seat to Santana's right.
"Dude, when you said celebrate, I assumed there'd be beer or something."
Artie stepped (well… that wasn't exactly the best choice of words) in to distract Puck, who had garnered disapproving looks from several of the Warblers. And, what a shock, Santana was left to make conversation with the opposing choir.
"So are guys all straight edge and superior, then?" Asian guy kind of flared his nostrils at her, before turning to the guy to his right and striking up a conversation. David (who was looking highly amused yet again) spared a glance for his former conversation partner, before turning to face across the table at Santana.
"Not really. But it is a school night, and we do have a curfew." Santana nodded slowly, gazing directly at him.
"Tough break." He leaned towards her, folding his arms on top of the table.
"You think you couldn't deal with it?" She couldn't help mirroring his posture.
"I can deal with anything." He grinned and his teeth were bright white.
"I'm sure you can."
When their soft drink and fries arrived Santana became vaguely aware of the fact that at least half of New Directions, plus Kurt, Blaine, and a few Warblers are staring at them. Not particularly subtly either, which was just offensive. She chose to ignore them, focussing instead on the boy opposite her, who had proven himself to be friendly, and amusing, and certainly worthy of her attention. And if her glee club felt like she was betraying them, well someone who wasn't Puck should have sat next to her. Boy was fine, but his conversation left a lot to be desired most of the time. When Asian Warbler (David had managed to get him to join the conversation enough to introduce him as 'Wes' but Santana refused to acknowledge he had name until he did more than sniff at her and talk to other Warblers) announced that the Dalton students would have to leave if they wanted to make their curfew, all of New Directions began pulling out wallets, only for the chief Warbler to wave them off.
"I'll get the bill." Santana couldn't help her eyebrows shooting up at the casual way he said it.
"Someone's loaded." He continued with his strategy of ignoring everything she said, but David snorted, before adjusting his tie, a superior look on his face.
"We are Private School students." Santana stared at him for a long moment, while he gazed passively back at her, before she turned and began to walk out of the restaurant without a word. He followed her, chuckling, and when both clubs were milling absently in the car park waiting for their respective buses, he made another announcement. "So I thought we might have come across a bit stiff tonight, so for those of you who want to confirm were not just 'straight edge and superior'," he glanced at Santana, and there was a smile hanging off the edge of his lips, "I'd like to personally invite you to my house this weekend. It'll be fun to see some new faces around." Chief Warbler was looking disapproving yet again, but seemed to give it up as a lost cause, and simply walked huffily over to Blaine, who, just like the rest of the evening, was hanging around Kurt's shoulder like he was on a leash. David stepped towards her, lips quirked. "So will I see you there?" He said it as if he was assured of the answer, and she couldn't help raising an eyebrow it him in response.
"Well, I'll have to check my schedule." He smiled wider.
"Oh yeah? If it helps to place it in your priorities, my girlfriend will probably be there, and she'll probably be able to convince you that I'm not a closet case." Santana smiled predatorily.
"You sure you want me in the same room as your girlfriend?" David chuckled, but the New Direction's bus arrived, and Santana was walking off, waving coyly back at him, before he could reply.
It was fairly easy to convince Puck to go to the Dalton party – he tended to be up for anything that had a chance of involving free alcohol or sex. He disappeared as soon as they walked in the door, obviously after a sniff of either beer or skirt. Considering the way people had been acting at the competition, Santana hadn't been sure what she'd been expecting, but the party seemed fairly normal. Santana didn't even see a blazer until she saw Chief Warbler, and even then is was a plain (even somewhat normal if he was anywhere but a party) black one. He was standing beside a couch and, for the first time Santana could remember seeing, he actually looked somewhat relaxed. One could even have called his expression a smile. On the couch he was standing beside sat David, who was staring surprisingly morosely at his plastic cup. She walked over, apparently ruining Chief Warbler's mood by doing so.
"Well this is obviously where the party's jumping." She garnered a more disapproving than usual look from Chief Warbler, but David looked up, looking slightly less morose. "Well don't everyone welcome me at once." David managed a smile at that.
"Sorry, my day has been less than spectacular." He relaxed back into the couch, gazing steadily up at her, but she just folded her arms, and cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting for a better explanation. "My girlfriend broke up with me." She smirked at him.
"The one who lives in Canada?" Chief Warbler gave her a look that very clearly said she should be respecting David's loss, which she found a little ridiculous because, y'know, a break up isn't exactly the end of the world, but David smiled again. "Anyway, regardless of whether or not a girl broke your heart into little bite-sized pieces, this not the way to behave at a party." She held out her hand towards him. Chief Warbler looked like he was about to interrupt, but David reached up, and let her pull him to his feet.
"What exactly should I be doing?" He sounded a little less enthusiastic about life than he had at Sectionals, but he didn't show any signs of resistance as she led him into another room, searching for the kitchen.
"Well, first, you're going to get me a drink." He laughed, and started pulling her in a different direction, obviously knowing where the drinks were more than she did.
"Am I now?" He was perking up a bit, and Santana grinned.
"Yup. And, secondly, we're going to dance. And you're going to have fun." He laughed, and several of the boys they were passing gave the pair odd looks. But it didn't matter because dance was exactly what they did. And quite quickly it seemed like David was having fun. So even if Chief Warbler was hovering in the background the entire time giving Santana disapproving looks and even if David danced a little more like they were at glee club than at a party, spinning her around more than grinding into her (like a few of the other boys at the party were trying to do), she considered the night to be a success. So if, after a few wine coolers and a couple of hours of dancing, when they were sitting on the back porch of his, admittedly huge, house, she leaned forward and kissed him smack on the lips, she thought it was pretty understandable. And at first he kissed back, smooth and warm, and Santana couldn't help a hand that strayed to his knee and started making it's way up his thigh. He caught it in his and lifted it off, though, and gently pulled back.
"I shouldn't have done that. Sorry." Santana drew her hand back, and flicked her hair over her shoulder, and little surprised and stung by the rejection.
"I kissed you, rich boy." She made to get up, but he touched her arm gently, and she stopped.
"That's not what I meant." She gave him a Look, hoping he'd get the point and explain himself, and he grinned, teeth white in the darkness. "But I just got broken up with today. And rebounding is not a good idea. And I don't like moving too fast with girls when I want them to stick around." And damn if that wasn't unexpected enough to keep Santana from walking away. She blinked, and there was long pause as she let his words sink in. Finally she couldn't help grinning back.
"You want me to stick around?"
"Yeah, I do."
"You're sure you don't just want me around on your stick?" David chuckled, but before he could reply they were interrupted by the door opening behind them. Chief Warbler, looking as if the stick up his ass had gained another foot in length, was standing in the doorway with his arms folded.
"Your friend," he packed so much contempt into the word that Santana was surprised he didn't burst a blood vessel, "just ripped his shirt off and threw a chair out a window." The look he gave her implied that this was entirely her fault. He was clearly waiting for a reply so she pulled out her phone.
"I guess I'll call us a taxi." David stood, holding out a hand to pull her up.
"Use the home phone." She smiled, ignoring C.W. still glowering at them. "But, while you have that out," David grinned charmingly at her, "can I have your number?" She snorted.
"That was so smooth there's no way I can't give it to you."
And even if she had to leave the party early because Puckerman couldn't control his urges, she left smiling.
She should've guessed that nothing could last. Rachel cornered her after Spanish class the following Monday, and wouldn't stop ranting and raving, following her like an oddly verbose puppy.
"All I'm saying, Santana, is that we have been through this before! A handsome, talented, charming boy befriends and seduces the young ingénue directly after Sectionals, only to break her heart, securing his victory in the final competition! We can't make the same mistakes we made last year, please just tell me we've learned from our experiences!" Visiting her locker between classes had never before been this exhausting.
"Yeah, whose mistakes were they, Berry?"
"I am deadly serious! It's the exact same strategy that Vocal Adrenaline used to great effect last year; destroy the choir by leaving its star heartbroken. Obviously they've miscalculated gravely, considering you aren't the star, but it is somewhat understandable; your performance at Sectionals, though sorely lacking in training, was show-stopping-"
"Is there any hope of arriving at a point any time soon?"
"I'm just saying, Santana, that your… alterations over the summer point to your being vulnerable to this sort of attack. This 'David' is obviously not what he appears to be, and we need to act before you end up standing in the parking lot drowning in the souls of baby chickens!" Santana slammed her locker shut, making Rachel jump slightly, and turned toward the shorter girl, eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Ok, pipsqueak, here's how it is. Firstly, you know nothing about my summer, or my 'alterations' as you like to call them. Secondly, you know nothing about David, his intentions towards me, or my intentions towards him. Thirdly, not everything in this world is about you. Now, if you could refrain from speaking in my presence ever again, that would be greatly appreciated." She turned and stalked off before the intimidated looking midget could get her incredibly abrasive voice back. Which worked up until Glee, when Rachel was unequivocally backed up by the rest of New Directions.
"Girl, I don't care how cute the boy is; we're not losing Regionals for this again."
"I heard Warblers are a type of bird, you shouldn't date a bird, Santana; you'd get feathers in weird places."
"Those Dalton kids are dweebs. Most parties, people love when pull out my Hulk impression."
"I've been searching my Asian contacts for information about that Wes guy, and I can't find anything. This worries me."
It was actually a relief when Mr. Schue came in and started talking about their assignment for the week – and Santana's pretty sure she's never felt like that about Mr. Schue being anywhere before. Of course, it doesn't actually shut anyone up, but it does give her something to focus on that isn't her choir-mates protestations about her social life. It helps when her phone buzzes, and she opens a message that says 'So I'm pretty sure I took a wrong turn and will end up in Lima this afternoon… Coffee?' and there is nothing she can really say to that but 'Why not? I've got no one better to do.' When his reply came Santana could picture the amused quirk of his lips as read the message, and she couldn't help smiling at her phone as if he could see it. When she looked up at least half the glee club were staring at her angrily. She raised her eyebrows and snapped her phone shut pointedly, before turning to face Mr. Schue, who was speaking eagerly, as if the teenagers were actually listening to him.
She walked out of rehearsal before anyone could stop her, and didn't realise until she reached her locker that she'd left her phone in the choir room. She turned to see Rachel trotting up with an honestly terrifying smile on her face. Santana folded her arms, refusing to give ground. Rachel just kept smiling that suspicious smile, and held out Santana's phone.
"You dropped this." Santana accepted it, feeling quite suspicious.
"Thanks." She flipped it open and searched through it, but couldn't find anything suspicious. She gave Rachel a hard look, before snapping the phone shut, and walked out of the school. Once she reached the parking lot her attention was immediately caught by a very shiny, very sleek, dark blue car sitting in the parking lot, with a familiar figure leaning against it. Who was talking to… Puck. Which was never going to end well. But Puck saw her coming and jogged off to his truck, leaving David staring after him. She strolled up, letting her skirt bounce a little. He glanced at her and smiled, though it was a little dimmer than it usually was.
"Hey. You have weird friends. Just so you know." She stopped a foot away from him, hand on her hip.
"Who said he's my friend?" The smile widened slightly.
"So you're a cheerleader. Very nice." She smirked at him.
"I know. You better be paying, by the way, or I don't know why you bothered coming." The smile reached his eyes.
"What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't pay?"
"Not much of one at all." And suddenly everything was less awkward, and he opened the car door for her, which she was pretty sure no one had ever done for her before. They went out for coffee and it all seemed to be going well until she said one stupid thing.
"So what did Puckerman want?" He faltered, and looked down at his latte like it could tell him what to do.
"He just told me you two used to…" He trailed off, and Santana rolled her eyes at the implications, which, given the circumstance, probably wasn't the best attitude to have.
"Have sex? I didn't think you thought I was a virgin." The corners of his mouth tightened, and he didn't look up.
"… date." She raised her eyebrows.
"Not since last year. Before Glee, actually." He looked up, not looking particularly reassured.
"But you still sleep with him? He said… Why?" She crossed her arms. It felt kind of like an attack on her morals, and she honestly didn't expect that from him.
"First of all, I don't. Last time I had sex with him was a couple of weeks ago, before I even met you, so you can absolve that present tense, thank you very much. Secondly, the continued sex was not a substitute for a relationship. I do not want to date Puck, I have dated Puck and it was a time of my life I'd rather not revisit, so if that's what you're trying to imply you've missed the mark by a long shot. Thirdly, are you seriously this insecure?" He looked kind of shocked by her spiel, and he smiled a little again.
"Not insecure, more… jealous?" She gave him a flat look.
"Jealous?" He glanced down at his latte again, but he was smiling a little this time.
"Yeah. I mean, he got to have you longer than I've been around." He glanced kind of awkwardly up at her over his cup, and she couldn't really keep a straight face.
"I'm sure you'll find some way to level the playing field." He grinned at her, and she hoped the awkward conversation wouldn't come back to bite her.
Despite coffee ending well, and David staying in near constant contact with Santana, things took a turn for the worse the moment she her phone rang the next week when she was on her way to Glee, displaying a number she didn't recognise. She recognised the voice on the other end of the line, though, as soon as it cracked out, sharp as a whip.
"Santana Lopez?"
"This is she. Wes, right?" She can hear the glare over the line.
"Correct. I was wondering if you were free this afternoon. There is something I'd like to discuss with you over coffee." She couldn't help looking for some sort of trap in his words, but she didn't find anything.
"Are you buying?" She heard him sniff over the line.
"Of course. I'll pick you up from the parking lot of your school when your day finishes."
"Awesome."
"I'll see you then."
She snapped her phone shut, feeling dissatisfied and walked into the choir room to find Rachel talking on her own phone.
"Does it really matter who I am? I just thought it was information that you would find both relevant and interesting." She looked up and saw Santana, and kind of jerked in her seat. "I have to go." She ended the call, and folded her hands in her lap, back impeccably straight, as though she hadn't done anything out of the ordinary. Her phone buzzed in her lap, and she glanced at it, before cancelling the call and turning the device off. Santana sneered.
"Who was that?" Rachel flipped her hair, and put on her practiced superior look.
"No one of interest." Santana considered pushing but she was feeling too antsy after the call from Chief Warbler, so she just shook her head and sat down. The rehearsal passed in what seemed like a blink of an eye. Before she realised it was happening she was walking out to the parking lot, and seeing a uniform clad figure leaning against a shiny car. Except this figure didn't seem nearly as appreciative of her cheerleading uniform, and she suddenly felt underdressed and exposed as she walked across the tarmac. Puck wolf-whistled as he headed towards his car.
"You working your way through the private schools now?" She flipped him off, as she would've done any other time, but normally she didn't feel this bad about someone implying she was sexually active. Maybe it was the way Wes' face tightened as if she was something beneath notice when he opened the passenger side door for her. They didn't talk on the drive to the same café that David had taken her too, or while they ordered their drinks. By the time they sat down across from each other at a table Santana felt more judged than ever before.
"I guess you're wondering why I asked you here." He looked stern, and disapproving, and she pursed her lips slightly, before replying.
"It seems like the right thing to be wondering." He leaned back in his chair, expression unchanging.
"I wanted to talk to you about David." She sipped leisurely at her coffee.
"Really?"
"I think you should stop contacting him." Part of her is unsurprised, but most of her is too busy being angry.
"Do you?" He sat up straight, and she got the distinct impression he was looking down at her.
"He likes you. Now. But you need to look to the future." He paused to sip his drink, and Santana forcibly restrained herself from interrupting. He stared her directly in the eyes and she refused to let herself look down. He leaned forward. "David needs to think about his future right now. He's got a huge journey ahead of him." Santana refrained from commenting that he sounded like a motivation poster. "Do you really think you're going to be able to be there for it?" It was like someone had slushied her. She sat up straight in her chair.
"What do you mean?" It came out flat, and she was glad her voice wasn't shaking. He let out this little, humourless laugh.
"Dalton is a prestigious academy, Santana. It opens up a lot of doors. A lot of doors you won't be able to follow him through." He paused to sip his latte again and she wanted to throw it in his face. "I'll be the first to admit that I don't know you well, and I don't particularly want too. But I really can't see you going far from this town. Especially with your" his eyes flickered down to her chest and she fought the urge to fold her arms, "reputation." She breathed in sharply, and he got this weird, triumphant look on his face. "I've asked around, Santana. I haven't heard much good. I honestly can't see you leaving this town and I can't let you hold David back. Do you honestly think you can give him anything he can't get somewhere more… reputable?" He looked her up and down, and she wished her skirt was longer. "I think if you really look at yourself you'll realise that you are, frankly, not good enough for him. You're dirty, used goods. And he deserves so much better." And normally Santana would have found it really easy to ignore someone saying something like that, but all she could think about is David talking about her sleeping with Puck. Normally Santana would have had something to say to wipe the smug look off the bastard's face, but instead she just sat there waiting for him to say something else. He ducked his head slightly, so he could look her in the eyes. "I don't know what kind of future you've been picturing, white picket fence, four kids, whatever. But it's not going to happen." She swallowed. She was trying to find something to say that would wipe the smug, satisfied look off his face, but she was distracted by how empty her stomach felt, and only one thing came out.
"There wouldn't be kids." And before he could say anything else, she stood, and walked all the way back to McKinley to pick up her car.
When he didn't text her for three days she sent him a message asking what he was doing that weekend. The reply she got was a short 'Having some people over to mine' and then, a few minutes later 'Want to come?' and despite the fact that she didn't feel particularly welcomed, she replied in the affirmative. That Saturday she paced in her room for and hour, before she sucked it up and called a taxi. She spent half an hour wandering around the ground floor of the huge house, unable to see anyone she knew, except C.W. who gave her a look that implied she deserved death for showing up at the party. Finally she asked someone, who pointed her up a flight of stairs and told her to go to the third door on the right. She walked slowly, not sure what she was hoping to see. She heard a voice, and as she moved closer she realised it was Kurt.
"… I mean, Santana's great but… You don't exactly know where she's been." Something the size of a fist lodged in her throat. A voice that was clearly David murmured something back, but it was too quiet for her to hear the words. She steeled herself, holding her head up, and thrusting her shoulders back, before striding into the room.
"Glad to hear you think so highly of me, Hummel." She stared straight at David, who was sitting on the foot of his bed staring at his hands. Kurt's eyes widened, and he took a deep breath.
"Ok, I'm just going to leave you two alone." He walked out and Santana folded her arms, resisting the urge to stare at her feet. She refused to back down from this.
"I'm trying to figure out why you're here." His voice was quiet, and Santana hated the way it sounded helpless, like she should be comforting him.
"Why don't you run your theories by me?" He looked to the side and she wished he'd just look at her, because last time he did that she felt normal, and pretty, and right at that moment she felt like a mass of scarred skin, and tension. She swallowed hard while she waited for him to answer. His words came slowly.
"All I want to know is… Look. If you're just here so you can say you fucked a private school boy I can give you a list of guys who would welcome the chance to get up your skirt regardless of the possible consequences." Her arms tightened around her chest. The harsh wording didn't sound right in his voice. "I know you don't have to come to me for sex, I mean you've got that Puck dude, and I know about you and your cheerleader friend." It felt like a huge pressure on her chest was weighing her down, but she fought to remain still, staring straight at him and standing tall. He dropped his head into her hands. "I'm not just here for your amusement." She had to clear her throat before she spoke, cursing the weakness it implied.
"I'm not dirty, you know." He looked up for the first time, and she kept herself from looking away through sheer force of will. "Whatever Kurt said. I'm careful. I carry my own condoms. I've been tested, more than once. I may sleep around but I'm not stupid." She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it didn't quite work. "And I told you the truth about Puck. And I don't know how you found out about Brittany, but I haven't fucked her," he flinches at the word, "since before I last fucked Puck." He looks down again. "I have my reasons for being the way I am. And if you wanted to know all you had to do was ask. But you're right. Neither of us are here for the other one to play with." Then, hating herself for repeating Wes' words, "You deserve better." Then she turned and walked out. She didn't go back downstairs, instead she continued down the hall until she found another empty bedroom, and sat on the bed, and tried to pull herself together before she went downstairs. She leaned forwards and dug the balls of her hands into her eyes. For several long moments she just sat like that and breathed.
"I'm sorry for… implying anything untrue." She looked up to see Kurt hovering awkwardly at the foot of the bed. She sniffed, trying to rein herself in.
"Did you tell him about Brittany?" He folded his arms awkwardly.
"No, he got a phone call about that. He won't say, but I suspect Rachel." She nodded and looked back at the carpet.
"Makes sense." Kurt sighed, looking more awkward by the second.
"What else was I supposed to say, Santana? I wasn't going to lie." She sat up properly, and smoothed her skirt to give her hands something to do.
"No offence, Hummel, but you don't know me that well. I know you were a Cheerio, and we were in Glee together, but I've never really bought into the whole sharing my soul with all of you misfit artists." Kurt snorted, sounding surprisingly undignified.
"Santana you had a boob job. And you're awful to Quinn, you were even horrible to her when she was pregnant." Santana chuckled wetly.
"And it doesn't matter how she acted to me. Or that I might actually be smart enough to not have invasive surgery without a good reason."
"Well, what do you want to excuse first?" He sounded scathing and Santana could feel anger starting to curl in her stomach again.
"They're related, and I don't want to tell you anything." He laughed, harshly and she stood up, words spilling out before she could stop them. "Fine. You want to know the story? Well I can't exactly tell you where it starts, because it's a little hard to track, but it ends with a ninety-two percent chance of tumours before I turn fifty. Only I have a couple of cousins who had them by the time they were twenty, so my Dad convince me that a double mastectomy and full hysterectomy to make sure all my girl hormones stayed in check was the best idea." Kurt was pale and completely still, and Santana was pretty sure she'd never said this many words in his presence ever before, but now that she'd started talking she didn't think she could stop. "So maybe I was awful to Little Miss Perfect last year, but maybe it was awful to spend my year watching her cry over something that will never happen to me. And maybe when they were refilling the tank this summer I convinced them to let me go up a size. But while most girls were getting mani-pedis this summer, I was going through menopause." She swallowed harshly. "I think it was understandable."
They remained like that, Kurt standing at the foot of the bed, and her sitting on the side, staring at each other, for several long moments. Then something inside Santana's stomach snapped, and she pushed herself off the bed, and walked out of the party. She passed David, sitting outside the room he'd been inside, curled up against the wall with his head in his hands, and ignored him. As she stalked down the long driveway she pulled out her phone and called a taxi company. She was talking to them when she reached the end of the drive, and she leaned against the letterbox as the voice on the other end of the line told her a taxi would be there in fifteen minutes. She was breathing heavily and slowly getting her emotions under control when gravel crunched behind her.
"Why didn't you tell me?" She refused to turn around. She didn't particularly want him to see her like this.
"Eavesdropping, huh? Classy." She sniffed, and hoped he didn't hear it. "I haven't exactly known you long, rich boy, whether I've kissed you or not." She heard him step closer, and her shoulders tightened reflexively. "Don't say you wouldn't have done anything different. Your issues were nothing to do with whether or not I had all my parts in place. You're feeling sorry for me right now, but you don't feel any better about who I've had sex with, or when I had sex with them. So just trot on up back to your big, rich boy house, and I'm sure you can find someone more appropriate to spend your time with. Someone without a sordid sexual history, or yards of back-story you need to know before you date them." She swallowed, staring resolutely down the street, to where her taxi would appear. There was a long pause, and then he walked away, slowly. She tried to ignore the part of her that desperately wanted him to have stayed so he could convince her that she was worth it.
She spent the next week trying to pretend nothing had ever happened, but it didn't work out too well for her. It was difficult to ignore Rachel's more-superior-that-usual airs, or Brittany's worried glances, and she couldn't bring herself to respond when Puck made a clumsy, rude pass at her after Glee. She found herself pulling her phone out more often than she usually would, and mentally cursed. She snapped at everyone, even Brittany when she caught the other girl going through her phone with a look of single-minded intensity on her face. Frustrated, she accepted a date with a member of the hockey team. It didn't help. The meal was worse than coffee with C.W. had been. Even little things started to annoy Santana – the kid could barely lift his eyes from her chest, and when they left Breadstix, attempted to paw at her against the side of his car. She ended up holding a spray-can of Mace pointed in his direction as he drove her home.
The Monday of the following week seemed much the same. Except Brittany was more cheerful than she'd been the previous week. Santana just let the day drag on, until she was strolling out into the parking lot, where she saw a very familiar dark blue car, with a familiar figure leaning against it. She almost didn't walk over, but she saw the figure straighten when it spotted her. She walked across the tarmac slowly. David looked uncomfortable, and, to her shock and surprise, he was holding an extravagant looking bunch of flowers. She stopped several feet away, and there was an awkward silence as they stared at each other.
"Well?" He swallowed, and glanced down before looking up at her.
"I- uh. I've prepared a speech." She gave him an incredulous look, and his cheeks darkened a little.
"That might be the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me," she said dryly, and he managed a chuckle.
"I just… I wanted to say that your history is your own, and I shouldn't have held it against you. And I should have spoken to you about it." Santana folded her arms, and didn't break eye contact. "I let Wes convince me to be stupid about this, and think about all the things that he thinks I should want, rather than what I want. I know you said a bunch of stuff about us not being appropriate, but I don't buy it. You're the most beautiful, interesting girl I have ever met, and that's what's important. I want what I want, and I want you." He paused for a second, staring at her. "That's all I have." She nodded slowly.
"Nice. Very nice." Then she turned and started to walk away.
"Santana?" He called after her sounding confused, and she looked back.
"I have to think about it." She smirked at him, feeling a little bit more like the old Santana again. "I'll let you know."
There was a bunch of flowers on her doorstep every day for the rest of the week. Each had a card that relayed sentiments much the same as he'd said in his speech in the parking lot. And each made Santana think more. She didn't know if one arrived the following Monday. She was too busy driving to Westerville. She pulled up outside the gates, stretched out on her bonnet, and idly sent a message off from her phone. He only took a couple of minutes to appear, jogging down the long, expensive looking, tree-lined driveway. He stopped a few feet from her car, looking a little shocked. He didn't say anything. She gave him a dry look.
"I heard there were some nice restaurants in this town." His face broke into a wide smile.
"There are a few good ones, yeah. I'll take you to the best, my shout." She slid down so she was sitting right on the edge of her bonnet.
"Sounds like a nice evening." He walked forward and his hands framed her face as he kissed her, slow, and smooth, before pulling back slowly. She couldn't help smiling up at him.
"That's a bit forward for someone who hasn't even taken me on a proper date yet." He grinned wider.
"We can make up for that," he said before he leaned down to seal his lips over hers again.