A/N: I don't own Glee nor the characters within. So. This is my entry for the second Pezberry Week's theme of Living Together. It is a sequel to the first Pezberry Week's theme of First Kiss (which is chapter two in my collection, Pezberry Week '12), so I recommend reading that, or else you might be a bit confused. (By the way, for the first day, I collaborated on a gifset, which is why I have no story posted for it. Also, I'm not sure how many of these I'll get done or how long they'll be [as I am collaborating on some of the other themes with other authors], considering, you know, I'm still working on the first Pezberry Week...)
She left the hallway light on. Sitting up in bed, a book forgotten on her lap as she clutched her phone in her hands, Rachel's ears strained for the sound of Santana's keys turning in the lock.
It had been hours.
It had been hours, but Rachel could still feel Santana's lips on hers.
When had Santana developed feelings for her? It didn't make sense. Sure, they had become friends and pretty good roommates, but… Santana felt more?
It didn't make sense. But it was true.
"You can cheat with me." That's what she'd said, wasn't it? "I tell you to cheat because if you can cheat with someone else, you can cheat with me." Those words echoed continuously in Rachel's ears.
Her stomach twisting, Rachel looked at the engagement ring sparkling in the weak light of her bedside table. She loved Finn. She wanted to be with him.
…
Santana wanted to be with her.
Was it just sex? An itch to scratch? Loneliness after the breakup with Brittany and the agreed slow down after the drug scare? Did Santana expect sex from her? Payment for providing the apartment?
Rachel's head hurt. It had been hurting since Santana had walked out. Letting out a large, stuttering breath, she leaned back against the headboard, swallowing as tears once again pricked her eyes.
Santana had been so fierce. So tender. Her hands had curled around Rachel's face like she couldn't let go, couldn't let Rachel react. All her actions were desperate and wounded, but the kiss… The kiss…
A simple meeting of lips that wasn't simple at all.
She'd called Finn earlier. Twenty minutes after Santana had left, twenty minutes to prove that Santana wasn't immediately coming back. Barely talking, having to prevent herself from bursting into tears the second Finn's comfortable voice came onto the phone, Rachel hadn't told him why she'd called. Instead, she'd curled up on the couch, staring at Santana's abandoned food as she let Finn talk about his day and his week and how he was thinking about coming up the next weekend.
"That's great," Rachel had tried, knowing that no matter how much she wanted to see him, to let him wrap his arms around her and make everything make sense again, it would be for the best if he and Santana weren't anywhere near each other. So, "That's great," she bit her lip, stifling her sniffles and hoping he couldn't hear the tears in her voice, "But I don't think next weekend would work."
"Oh. Then when would be best for you?" Sounding disappointed but still hopeful, Finn had barely put up a fuss when Rachel told him that she would let him know and pretended like one of her fathers had called in. "I love you," he'd said as his normal goodbye, and, "I love you," she'd said back, hanging up before all the words she'd held back tumbled out.
And now, hours later, she didn't know why she hadn't called him back.
Swinging her legs out of the blankets, Rachel barely hesitated before standing up, immediately pulling her hair in front of her shoulder. Heading for the bathroom, she was reaching for her hairbrush when she heard the front door unlock. Her fingers curling around the handle, Rachel stared at herself in the shadow of the mirror.
Santana's footsteps were soft as the door swung shut, pausing before walking down the hall.
She would have to pass the bathroom door to get to her room. "Sa…" Rachel whispered, barely more than air.
But the footsteps veered off. Rachel's ears strained.
The kitchen. Forcing her feet to move and her brain to ignore what could happen as a result, Rachel didn't stop until she was looking at Santana's back in the bright of the kitchen light as she leaned into the refrigerator.
Instant relief at the visual confirmation that Santana was still alive made some of the pressure ease in her head, and Rachel stepped forward. "You… Didn't eat?" Her voice was loud in the kitchen, her fingers taloned in the bottom of her pajama top.
Santana's back stiffened before becoming forcibly relaxed. "I had food here, didn't I?" Sounding flat and uninterested, Santana straightened with her containers of Chinese food Rachel had obviously thought to store earlier. Barely meeting Rachel's eyes, she spun on her foot, heading towards the cupboard across the kitchen from Rachel.
Santana. In that split second Rachel could see her roommate's face, she felt the tears instantly rise in her own eyes. "You were gone for so long, I just thought…" she tried again, taking another step into the small kitchen.
"What?" Scraping her food into a microwavable bowl, Santana sounded disinterested and unconcerned, "Worried I had gone for liquid relief instead?"
"No." Not liking feeling helpless with nothing to do, Rachel walked forward, stopping herself next to Santana's elbow. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she pulled down her own bowl. "Alright," she turned to Santana, "Give me."
Santana stared at her. Her hands tightening around the fork and carton of chow mein, her eyes were dark and bruised, the skin around them still tight with lingering red. And then, in a split second, she blinked, a hard mask on her face instead of what had been there before. "Excuse me?" she asked, looking down, going back to scooping the chow mein into her bowl, her jaw clenching.
"Give me." Plucking the box from Santana's hands, Rachel tried to ignore the stiffening of her arm against Rachel's, "I want some."
It was barely noticeable, but Santana's body trembled.
Rachel didn't look at her, dumping out the rest of the chow mein into her own bowl.
"It has meat in it."
"No it doesn't." Shaking her head, Rachel tucked her hair behind her ear. Smiling briefly down at the empty carton, she looked up to meet Santana's gaze, dropping for a second before successfully returning Santana's gaze. "I've been aware for a while now you've been getting the vegetarian kind."
Santana's lips twisted. "But how do you know if it's vegan or not?"
Rachel faltered for a second before pushing her smile back on her face. "It's probably not, but I've already decided I want some." Opening the microwave, she slid her bowl into it, reaching back for Santana's as well. Covering them with some wax paper, she quickly input the heat and duration. "Shouldn't be long now," she offered pointlessly.
Having already grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, popping the top off with a bottle opener, Santana grunted. "You know," she took a swig, pointing at Rachel as she pulled the bottle down, "What if I didn't want to have to deal with you right now?"
"Then I'd just apologize sincerely before I just as sincerely tell you you had no choice in the matter." Walking over to the refrigerator, Rachel fished out her own bottle of beer. As a rule, she never drank on school nights, but, aware of Santana's heavy gaze on her, she figured tonight would be the kind of night to break that rule.
…Except Santana was suddenly pulling the beer out of her hand. "Hey! What are you doing?"
Santana glared at her. "You don't need this. You have school tomorrow."
One part of Rachel's heart warmed that Santana remembered that rule. But the other parts didn't care. "Give it back." She held out her hand, raising her chin.
"No." Santana shook her head, stalking past Rachel to slam the bottle back into the refrigerator. Pausing, her back to Rachel, she drew in a deep breath and turned around. When she spoke, her voice was husky, stressed, the ever-present mask on her face gone to show dark, sad eyes. "That's not… That's not you, Rachel."
Anger sparked up in Rachel's chest. "Me? Me?" Pushing past Santana, Rachel retrieved the beer, "I'm sorry, but I was under the impression that I knew who I was. Not you."
"Yeah, well, that's worked so well for you, hasn't it?"
What? Whirling around, the bottle opener making a loud sound as it glanced off the counter top when she spun around with it still in her hand, Rachel saw the face of the girl she thought they'd left behind in high school. After what had happened earlier that day, it hurt worse in the pit of her stomach. "Think carefully, Santana, before you say anything more," she warned lowly.
Why were they back here? This wasn't the mature and calm discussion Rachel had hoped to have.
Santana scoffed. "Look at yourself," she spat, "Not even eighteen and already saddled with a giant who's going nowhere. Hell, I'm sure you even know it but are too stu – "
For the second time that day, Rachel slapped her hand down, the smack of her skin against the countertop ringing through the kitchen. "This is not about Finn," she snapped, "And this is not about me, no matter how much you may think it is or want it to be. This is about you, Santana. You." Shoving the opened beer into Santana's hand as she strode past, Rachel forced out one last, "Go ahead and have all of it," when the microwave beeped, "I have class in the morning and I'm not hungry anymore."
Five minutes later, Santana was at her door. "Rachel," she rapped harshly, knuckles sharp and staccato, the butt of her palm loud when Rachel didn't answer right away.
"I'm trying to sleep," Rachel answered flatly.
"Then wake up."
Closing her eyes, Rachel took in a deep breath through her nose. "Santana," she sounded out purposefully, stressing the annoyance in her voice, "I think it would be better if we didn't try to interact anymore tonight."
"Not gonna happen." Rattling the doorknob, the door was practically slammed open, Santana obviously not having been expecting it to be unlocked. From the light spilling in through the doorway, Rachel could see a flash of naked emotion on Santana's face before she drew herself up. "You're right," she stared directly at Rachel, voice gravelly and so, so dead Rachel could feel the anxiety rise in her chest before she understood the words Santana was speaking to her, "This is about me. And this. This living situation. It isn't working."
Struggling up, palms pressing into the mattress, arms starting to tremble as she rested her weight on them, Rachel opened her mouth, "Santana – "
But Santana continued talking like Rachel hadn't said anything. "And I don't know if it will again. I can't be around you, Rachel. And I'm not sure that's going to change anytime soon."
"But you haven't given us a chance," Rachel finally managed, violently throwing the covers off of her as she jumped up.
Santana snorted. "Bad choice of words, there."
"Whatever!" Throwing her hands up, Rachel stalked up to Santana. Slapping her hand around her wrist, she reached past her to slam her bedroom door closed. And then, barely thinking any more, she dragged Santana over to her bed. "Sit," she ordered, pushing the unresisting girl down .Turning on the bedside lamp, she crossed her arms. "Now." Sucking in a deep breath, Rachel started pacing in front of her, shaking her head back and forth, "We are going to talk about this. You're an adult, right? Then start acting like one. I'm not letting you run away again."
"You're not exactly blameless, either. Are you going to storm out again?" Santana glared at her. Looking behind her, jaw clenching as her lips firmed, she, with a stilted shrug, pulled her legs up off the floor and shifted over, leaving space for Rachel next to her. Well? her piercing gaze seemed to say, eyes dark with a mixture of guilt and want and something Rachel had never seen before: fear, What's going to happen now?
Rachel stared at her. Extremely aware of her engagement ring her finger, she slowly joined Santana on her bed, their shoulders and thighs touching. I don't know, she answered silently, not surprised in the least to be pulling a suddenly sobbing Santana into her arms, But I do know I don't want to live anywhere else, with anyone else. "You're my friend," Rachel whispered, hating the hurt she could feel lancing through Santana's body at the word 'friend', but knowing she couldn't do anything about it, "My best friend. We'll work this out."
Santana didn't apologize that night, nor did she in the following weeks. Instead, it was like she was back to normal. She was curt but not mean to Finn when he came up to visit two weeks later, she went out on dates, and she stopped encouraging Rachel to sleep around.
But Rachel didn't expect an apology. She'd already gotten one in the tears Santana cried into her chest, in the arms Santana wrapped tightly around her body, and the lips Santana pressed into her own.
One kiss. Their second.
A second kiss followed by a whispered, forever memorized, "If you don't cheat with me, please don't cheat with anyone else."
And Rachel had smiled sadly, softly pushing Santana's bangs back from her face. "Okay," she'd whispered, catching the tears that built and overflowed again down Santana's cheeks, "I can promise you that."