a/n: okay, so. i decided seeing as i love puck/santana so much i'm going to write them a fic.
i don't know how well i'm going to do and feedback on this first chapter would be nice just so i know whether there's any point in continuing.

this isn't going to just be puck/santana though. it's called everybody loves santana for a reason. i'm going to experiment shipping her with everyone, because, she's my favorite character and face it, i'll ship her with anyone. so that's just a warning for you. it'll primarily be focused around puck/santana's relationship/friendship though.
so, have a read. tell me if you like it. i don't know when it's based either, second season but a load of stuff i haven't bothered incorporating like juvie and stuff. so just go with it.

thanks. :D

CHAPTER OO1.
-
everybody loves santana.

The room was so silent, that to any passersby, it would surely be empty. The wind was picking up and echoed outside the house, whistling through the winter bare trees and banging a next door neighbour's gate that hadn't been properly latched shut. A television showed an old movie downstairs after being ignored the night before and left without being turned off and there was a steady drip from a tap in the en-suite bathroom that still hadn't been fixed. But that room though? It wasn't empty. Or disturbed by the noises beyond its walls. Instead lay two, silently slumbering teenagers who weren't used to sleeping together without the sex anymore. It was never innocent like it used to have been when they were younger. Until now. Here they were, just sleeping. She looked vulnerable, wrapped up in his famously strong arms, breathing softly. But she wasn't. She wasn't even vulnerable to him anymore, like she was in the past. When he was the one she trusted to tell anything. It was almost like she'd somehow forgotten to have feelings. And definitely how to trust him. He looked strong, but he wasn't so sure that was true either. Strong physically, sure, but mentally he felt like he was crumbling. Looks could be deceiving and he had learned that long before now. He wasn't strong. He was weak.

Noah Puckerman's eyes opened slowly and took their time to adjust to the light. He didn't move for fear of waking up the Latina that he was reluctant to release from his arms. Not for any reason but the sheer and simple fact he missed spending time with his friend. His best friend. Not his friend with benefits. Or his girlfriend that he'd carelessly discarded, all to chase after the celibate princess who was marginally more of a challenge. A better and more interesting conquest. But he had been wrong, and it had left him with a baby that he was powerless to love – ending only in disappointment when he had no choice in her being adopted out of his life. Even if it wasn't his choice, he was still a failure of a father. Just like his own had been to him.

Taking in a deep breath through his nose, as if to clear his thoughts away, he involuntarily inhaled her scent and forgot to exhale. Like it was, in a way, letting her go again. She, herself, smelled like Sandalwood from some mystery product that kept her skin so much softer than anyone else's. But her hair smelled like coconut and something sweet that he couldn't put a name to and it was making him hungry. He let a finger trace up her arm, following the veins that were showing clearly through her skin, and he couldn't help wondering whether she needed him like he needed her. While he was off trying to make his peace with Quinn and had totally ignored her like she didn't exist, had she learned she didn't need him after all? That life was just as easy to handle without him?

"Stop it." she groaned, clearly irritated. "That tickles and I'm trying to sleep."

How long had she been awake? Her voice had caught him a little by surprise and his hand had stilled before he'd fully understood what she'd even said to him.

"Sorry." He mumbled in response, letting his much larger hand lay flat on her arm.

She didn't move, or speak again and he wondered whether or not she'd gone back to sleep.

Pouting his famous Noah Puckerman pout, he let his finger trail down the rest of her arm, slowly at first to test her, following the maze of veins on the back of her hand.

"Puck, for fuck sake." She said, louder this time, grabbing his hand and squeezing it in a way which caused his knuckles to grind painfully past each other. He yelped in pain and so she let it go, shuffling away from him and curling back up into her foetal position under the covers.

"Jesus, San." He scowled, flexing his fingers a little. She had a killer grip. He'd almost forgotten.

"You should have stopped when I asked. I'm not patient in the morning."

He bit back questioning whether she was ever patient for fear of losing his hand this time.

"Yeah no shit. You didn't have to break my hand."

Santana yawned and straightened out her body, stretching her arms above her head and pointing out her toes.

"Don't be such a drama queen Puckerman." She strained, before letting her body relax once more, rolling over with a sigh of effort so she could face him. "Your hand is fine."

His hand was fine, he knew that, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt at that particular moment in time. Catching her yawn, he followed suit, letting out a grunt as he got comfortable in a new position which lacked her in his hold.

Santana ran her fingers through her sleep-scruffy but still adorable hair before letting her hands dip down to the button fastening her skinny jeans. The pain of the metal digging into her stomach wasn't negligible like it had been last night when she was practically dying from exhaustion and they needed to be undone. The day had been long, like any Friday was when she just wanted school to be over so she could let her weekend begin. Not that she had anything exciting planned. That was why she had let Puck stay over in the first place. She was hoping maybe they would have some no-strings attached sex and she could make him leave the next morning before her mother got back from the night shift at work, no questions asked. It wouldn't have been the first time and she was under no impression it would be the last. But he'd turned down every attempt she'd mustered up at a flirtatious advance or even the opportune moments she'd given him to kiss her. Was he really still holding a torch for Quinn fucking Fabray? Usually, she played no games and as soon as he was through the door she was partial to tearing his clothes off before they even made it to her bed. But she was tired and she wanted to feel needed for a change. Like he wasn't doing it because she wanted some. But because he did too. She missed having a guy have to put the work in and suddenly regretted giving herself such an easy reputation.

"Do you want something to eat? I feel like making breakfast." He told her, sitting up and stilling for a moment before deciding he did have enough energy to go the full way and hoist himself out of her comfortably large bed.

Santana stared for a moment. Obviously his shirt would have been uncomfortable to sleep in, but she hadn't realized he'd taken it off. It wasn't like she didn't have eyes and they lingered for a moment, dark and exploring his exposed skin that part of her already missed being held against.

"Actually, me, Brittany and some of the other girls are going out shopping in a little bit." She said distractedly, after glancing quickly at her alarm clock to check the time. "For dresses to the dance."

Shopping was one thing Puck didn't care about, and although a breakfast would be nice, especially when she knew he was an exceptional cook, she really did want to shower and get ready to go out alone and this was the exact little jackpot of an excuse she needed to make him lose any interest in her plans.

"Oh." He nodded simply before smirking playfully and pulling on his discarded v-neck. "Fine. Didn't want to cook for you anyway."

Santana rolled her eyes at him and sat up in the bed, resting her back against the headboard, still watching him carefully. Something was missing.

"Hey, what happened to your nipple ring?" she frowned, noticing it had disappeared. Santana had always thought it was totally hot. And it was kind of amusing to her how he thought it made him so completely 'badass'. Puck was always obsessed with being or at least looking badass, and she remembered when he first got his hair cut into his signature Mohawk like it was just yesterday. At first? She'd laughed and told him he looked stupid, but now she couldn't imagine him any other way.

Puck shrugged a little, looking down with disinterest.

"Quinn doesn't like it, so I took it out."

Even the name made her so angry she could kick a puppy. And what, even though she refused to actually be his girlfriend, she still had the power over him to make him remove something that he had been totally proud of beforehand? Santana hated her and didn't even feel bad for it. She didn't miss her 'friend' like she would have thought she might have before this entire ordeal had taken place. She was bitter and didn't even attempt to hide it. The worse thing was, she couldn't even think of some perfectly planned retaliation which would hurt as much as her sleeping with Puck had and it was frustrating.

Deciding not to take a stab at the slut when she knew that it was just make him mad, she lifted her hand up and made an action as if she was whipping something. With a cute little attempt at a sound to match.

"I'm not whipped." He rolled his eyes, running a hand over his Mohawk.

"Oh, sure you're not. You loved that thing."

Puck chuckled and shook his head before slumping down on the end of the bed at an angle where he could still see her clearly for his next question. He had chosen to ignore her before an argument erupted.

"Who are you going to the dance with?"

Picking guys for the dance sucked. No, really, it sucked. Santana would never admit it to anyone, but she only got asked by losers. It made no sense when she was totally hot, had a smokin' body and was like, the second most popular Cheerio on the squad. Everyone wanted Quinn. Always. God she was sick and tired of living in her stupid perfect shadow. When would it be her time to shine again? Would it really take another baby? Anyway. Naturally, the guy had to be of equal popularity – which, when you were Santana Lopez meant the choices were pretty much narrowed down to the top of the jock hierarchy. One of the football players everyone swooned over. But unlike her, most of them had their flimsy little relationships to fall back on and were already promised away to the girlfriends. Or at least the cute ones were. Karofsky had asked her.. again. The totally repulsive jock asked her every year in sick hope of fulfilling his fantasy of taking her home and doing her on the kitchen floor. Resisting the urge to punch him in the face, she curtly turned him down and walked away. Was he deluded in to thinking maybe one day she was going to say yes to him? A handful of other guys had asked her, with a 'may as well try and fail than never know' kind of attitude.. but the only one she could really go with? Frankenteen. Yes, Finn Hudson had asked her to the dance and she wasn't entirely sure why. All she knew was that it was better to go with the ex-quarterback than to go alone, or worse, with Karofsky. So she accepted with feigned enthusiasm.

Whether she wanted to tell Puck this or not, was another story. Half of her was still hoping he would have asked her himself.

"Finn." She nodded simply, glancing at him to test his reaction. Searching for any little speck of regret in those gorgeous eyes that he hadn't asked her himself. After all, he was a single jock and she was a single Cheerio and it just made sense.

"Finn Hudson?" he laughed, clearly amused by the thought. "W-wait."

Santana frowned, it not being the reaction she expected.

"As in Finn Hudson?"

He'd burst into scores of laughter now, and Santana couldn't help but feel a little defensive of Finn.

"Yes Puck, Finn fucking Hudson. You're not retarded, you know who he is. Stop laughing."

He was still laughing and she got to her feet angrily.

What was so bad about Finn? It wasn't like Puck knew the only reason he had asked her was because Rachel had dumped his ass. Although, actually, now she put more thought into it, it might have been obvious. Santana tended to keep away from him as much as possible since she took his big V in the dingy little motel room that night back last year, mostly because the awkward expression he had on his face whenever she attempted to talk to him was almost painful. What strange confidence had washed over him to provoke the idea of asking her to the dance was completely beyond her. And as much as it probably should have, the idea of him using her in pretty much the same way she had when she'd slept with him, didn't even sting.

"Aw come on San, I'm sorry.. I just wouldn't expect you to say yes to that." He said, trying to calm his voice down, but clearly failing miserably as he followed her out of her room and into her bathroom. He was still chuckling and it was really making her mad.

She'd pulled her toothbrush out of the hello kitty cup rested on her basin and had started brushing at her teeth furiously. It also gave her an excuse to stop replying to him, which was good for both their sakes.

Puck watched her in silence for a moment, trying to come up with the best thing to say to her.

"You know I was going to ask you, right?" he added, with a raise of his eyebrows.

Oh, so he decided to tell her this now?

He always asked her, every dance. And regardless of where their relationship was at the time, if they couldn't find anyone better, they would go together. Like a friendly pact which meant they would never have to look like losers. This time though, she was convinced he would decide otherwise. Especially seeing as it wasn't long until the dance now and he usually propositioned her as soon as they both knew about the dance. It took her a little by surprise and she spat a wad of toothpaste in the sink trying to mask it. Santana had assumed that he would be warned off asking her, now that Quinn seemed to think that Puck was some kind of personal possession that she could control without actually committing to. It was sad to see.

"Why didn't you ask Quinn?" she asked him, her voice still muffled by the remaining toothpaste in her mouth which she was struggling not to spit everywhere with each word.

"I did. She said no."

He laughed it off casually with a shrug of his broad shoulders, but Santana could see in his eyes that it meant more to him than that. He by no means looked upset, but she could tell he would have rather had gone with Quinn than her and it was all she needed to start brushing furiously again, turning her attention to her reflection in the mirror.

"Come on, you know that's how it goes. We don't have anyone better to go with, we go with each other. That's how it's always been." He reminded her before sighing softly.

It had been like that until he'd started developing feelings for her ex-best friend, of course.

Spitting another angry wad of toothpaste in the sink she rinsed, wiping at the corner of her mouth to remove any of her white moustache. She knew she had no right to be mad at him, because he was right – it was the way it had always gone. But for a change, she wanted to be selfish. She wanted him to ask her because he wanted to go with her and she wasn't entirely sure why. The best reasoning she could come up with was that she really, really wanted to get under Quinn's skin and it was almost enough for her to pick up her cell phone right there and then and text Finn that she had changed her mind. But she restrained and managed to calm herself a little.

It was silent, but an awkward kind of silent which left Puck rubbing at the back of his neck, confused.

"Finn's sweet. He might be a dumbass, but we look good together. It'll really piss Manhands off, too." She mused, pouting a little and smirking at the thought. Actually, the thought of Rachel's dramatic expression when she saw them walking in together was something that she hadn't actually thought of yet and it might just have been the selling factor.

"Wait so who is Rachel going with?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

It had finally clicked then. Idiot.

"I don't know. I'm kind of hoping Jacob Ben Israel. You know? For the kicks. It'd be funny as hell." She smiled, as if the thought was completely rational. Okay, so it would be funny to see them together. Everyone knew that the Jew-Fro had some kind of sick obsession with her and it wasn't like she was going to get a better offer. The only other guy who seemed to be able to tolerate her had asked Santana to the dance. Score.

"What about Britt?"

Clearly, he was looking for a date now, and was desperate.

"Mike asked her, like always." Santana frowned, clearly confused why he was even asking. Any dance, Mike and Brittany went together and his bow-tie always matched her dress perfectly, without fail. It was kind of heart warming really, especially seeing as he wasn't even dating her – and he was, in fact, dating Tina. Santana briefly wondered how she took it, and then realized that she didn't care.

"Fuck, I'm screwed." Puck groaned, picking aimlessly at his nose, leaving Santana shooting him a disgusted look. The boy could be such a pig.

"Uh yeah, I'd say so. Not long left now, all the good ones will be gone and you'll have to take Rachel."

"She makes me want to light myself on fire." He whined, letting his arms fold over his chest in a childish manner to show his disapproval of the idea.

Even though it was about the fiftieth time he'd told her, it still wasn't any less funny than the first and she couldn't help but snort with laughter as she started to run a comb through her hair.

"You should do it. Because then you and Finn can just swap dates halfway through or something and he'll end up with his moustache sporting manlygirl and I'll have you instead of him driving me mental."

"Are you serious?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Actually, it didn't seem like that bad a plan. Except for the big hole where he had to spend half of the night in the company of what possibly was the most annoying human being on the planet. He whined at the thought before nodding his head. It was better than being alone. Or worse still, spending the whole night with Rachel Berry. The thought made him want to gag.

"Sure, why not? It's not a fucking master plan." She scoffed, knitting her eyebrows together as she tackled a particularly tough knot in her fine wavy hair. "You just have to stop hanging out with her and come over to me. Finn will wander off when he sees she's alone and bam. All is as it should be."

Puck looked impressed but she wasn't sure why.

"Sounds good to me."

"Of course it does. Now will you please leave? I need to change."

"Fine." He sighed, rolling his eyes and walking over to her, wrapping his arm around her in a feeble hug. It was almost as if he was scared to, for fear of her biting his head off. Not completely unwarranted. But she leaned into him, nodding her head for a reason she was quite unsure of. It would be a lie to say she didn't enjoy the feeling of his arm around her though. And although she hated him for it, because no one else could quite give the same effect with the same simple gesture, a part of her would have stood there all day – inhaling his scent, listening to his steady breathing, enjoying the general feeling of comfort she always got from her oldest friend. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before letting her out of his attempt at a grip and turning on his heels, disappearing with a quick 'bye Lopez'.

Her lips pressed together as her eyes followed his exit before she turned her attention to the mirror above her basin. She stared at her reflection for a silent moment. Closing her eyes, she sighed softly to herself and rested the comb back on its shelf.

Why did she say yes to Finnocence? And why did she have a twinge awfully like butterflies in her stomach..?